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Anne Page, would I might never stir, and’tis a post- Mrs Page. Why went you not with master doctor, master's boy.
maid? Page. Upon my life then you took the wrong. Fent. You do amaze her: hear the truth of it! Slen. What need you tell me that? I think so, when You would have married her most shamefully, I took a boy for a girl. If I had been married to him, Where there was no proportion held in love. for all he was in woman's apparel, I would not have The truth is, She and I, long since contracted, had him.
Are now so sure, that nothing can dissolve us. Page. Why, this is your own folly. Did not I tell you, The offence is holy, that she hath committed: how you should know my daughter by her garments? And this deceit loses the name of craft,
Slen. I went to her in white, and cry'd mum, and she Of disobedience, or unduteous title; cry'd budget, as Anne and I had appointed ; and yet it Since therein she doth evitate and shun was not Anne, but a postmaster's boy.
A thousand irreligious cursed hours, Eva. Jeshu! Master Slender, cannot you see but Which forced marriage would have brought upon her. marry boys?
Ford. Stand not amazed; here is no remedy; Puge. O, I am vexed at heart : what shallI do? In love, the heavens themselves do guide the state; Mrs Page. Good George, be not angry: I knew of Money buys lands, and wives are sold by fate. your purpose; turned my daughter into green; and, Fal. I am glad, though you have ta'en a special stand indeed, she is now with the doctor at the deanery, and to strike at me, that your arrow hath glanced. there married.
Page. Well, what remedy? Fenton, heaven give thee Enter Caius.
joy! Caius. Vereis mistress Page? By gar, I am cozened; What cannot be eschew'd, must be embrac'd. I ha' married un garçon, a boy; un paisan, by Fal. \Vhen night-dogs run, all sorts of deer are gar, a boy; it is not Anue Page: by gar, I am cozened. chas'd. Mrs Page. Why, did you take her in green? Eva. I will dance and eat plums at your wedding.
Caius. Ay, be gar, and 'tis a boy: be gar, I'll raise Mrs Page. Well, I will muse no further:- Master all Windsor.
And laugh this sport o'er by a country fire;
Sir John and all!
Ford. Let it be so !-Sir John,
Page. Now, mistress ? how chance you went not with For he, to-night, shall lie with mistress Ford. master Slender?
TWELFTH-NIGHT: OR WHAT YOU WILL.
Per s o n % of the Dr a m a. Orsino, duke of Illyria.
Malvolio, steward to Olivia. SEBASTIAN, a young gentleman, brother to Viola.
Clown, ) Antonio, a sea-captain, friend to Sebastian,
servants to Olivia. A Sea-captain, friend to Viola.
Olivia, arich countess. Valentine, } gentlemen attending on the duke.
Viola, in love with the duke. CURIO
Maria, Olivia's woman. Sir Toer Belch, uncle of Olivia.
Lords, Priests, Sailors, Officers, Musicians, and Sir ANDREW AGUE-CHEEK.
other Attendants. SCENE,-a city in Illyria; and the sea-coast near it.
А ст І.
Receiveth as the sea, nought enters there,
Cur. Will you go hunt, my lord ?
Vio. There is a fair behaviour in thee, Captain ; Val. So please my lord, I might not be admitted, And though that nature with a beauteous wall But from her handmaid do return this answer: Doth oft close in pollution, yet of thee The element itself, till seven years heat,
I will believe, thou hast a mind that suits Shall not behold her face at ample view;
With this thy fair and outward character. But, like a cloistress, she will veiled walk,
I pray thee, and I'll pay thee bouuteously,
Conceal me what I am, and be my aid
Thou shalt present me as an eunuch to him,
And speak to him in many sorts of music, How will she love, when the rich golden shaft That will allow me very worth his service. Hath kill'd the flock of all affections else
What else may hap, to time I will commit; That live in her! when liver, brain, and heart, Only shape thou thy silence to my wit. These sovereign thrones, are all supplied, and fillid Cap. Be you his eunuch, and your mute I'll be: (Her sweet perfections) with one self-king! - When my tongue blabs, then let mine eyes not see! Away before me to sweet beds of flowers !
Vio. I thank thee. Lead me on!
[Exeunt. Love-thoughts lie rich, when canopied with bowers.
(Exeunt. SCENE III. – A room in Olivia's house.
Enter Sir Toby Belch, and MARIA.
Sir To. What a plague means my niece, to take the Vio. What country, friends, is this?
death of her brother thus? I am sure, care's an enemy Cap. Illyria, lady.
to life. Vio. And what should I do in Illyria ?
Mar. By my troth, sir Toby, you must come in earMy brother he is in Elysium.
lier o’nights; your cousin, my lady, takes great exPerchance he is not drown'd.-What think you,sailors ?
ceptions to your ill hours. Cap. It is perchance, that you yourself were saved.
Sir To. Why, let her except before excepted. Vio. O my poor brother! and so, perchance, may Mar. Ay, but you must confine yourself within the he be.
modest limits of order. Cap. True, madam: and, to comfort you with chance, Sir. To. Confine? I'll confine myself no finer than I Assure yourself, after our ship did split,
am : these clothes are good enough to drink in, and so When you, and that poor number saved with yon, be these boots too; an they be not, let them hang Hung an our driving boat, I saw your brother, themselves in their own straps. Most provident in peril, bind himself
Mar. That quaffing and drinking will undo you: I (Courage and hope both teaching him the practice)
heard my lady talk of it yesterday; and of a foolish To a strong mast that lived upon the sea ;
you brought in one night here to be her Where, like Arion on the dolphin's back, I saw hím hold acquaintance with the waves,
Sir. To. Who? Sir Andrew Ague-cheek ? So long as I could see.
Mar. Ay, he. Vio. For saying so, there's gold:
Sir To. He's as talla man as any's in Illyria. Mine own escape unfoldeth to my hope,
Mar. What's that to the purpose ? Whereto thy speech serves for authority,
Sir. To. Why, he has three thousand ducats a-year. The like of him. Know'st thou this country?
Mar. Ay; but he'll have but a year in all these duCap. Ay, madam, well; for I was bred and born
cats; he's a very fool, and a prodigal. Not three hours travel from this very place.
Sir. To. Fye, that you'll say so! he plays o' the Vio. Who governs here?
viol-de-gambo, and speaks three or four languages, Cap. A noble duke, in nature,
word for word, without book, and hath all the good As in his name.
gifts of nature. Vio. What is his name?
Mar. He hath, indeed, -almost natural: for, besides Cap. Orsino.
that he's a fool, he's a great quarreller; and, but that Vio. Orsino! I have heard my father name him:
he hath the gift of a coward to allay the gust he hath in He was a bachelor then.
quarrelling, 'tis thought among the prudent, he would Cap. And so is now,
quickly have the gift of a grave. Or was so very late : for but a month
Sir To. By this hand, they are scoundrels, and subAgo I went from hence; and then 'twas fresh
stractors, that say so of him. Who are they? In murmur, (as, you know, what great oues do,
Mar. They that add, moreover, he's drunk nightly The less will prattle of,) that he did seek
in your company. The love of fair Olivia.
Sir To. With drinking healths to my niece; I'll drink Vio. What's she?
to her, as long as there is a passage in my throat, and Cap. A virtuous maid, the danghter of a count,
drink in Illyria. He's a coward, and a coystril, that That died some twelvemonth since; then leaving her will not drink to my niece, till his brains turn o'the In the protection of his son, her brother,
toe like a parish top. What, Wench? Castiliano Who shortly also died: for whose dear love,
vulgo; for here comes Sir Andrew Ague-face. They say, she hath abjured the company And sight of men.
Enter Sir ANDREW AGUE-CHEEK. Vio. O, that I served that lady:
Sir And. Sir Toby Belch! how now, sir Toby Belch? And might not be delivered to the world,
Sir To. Sweet sir Andrew ! Till I had made mine own occasion mellow,
Sir And. Bless you, fair shrew! What my estate is.
Mar. And you too, sir! Cap. That were hard to compass;
Sir To. Accost, sir Andrew, accost! Because she will admit no kind of suit,
Sir And. What's that? No, not the duke's.
Sir To. My niece's chamber-maid.
Sir And. Cood mistress Accost, I desire better ac- thou not go to church in a galliard, and come home in a quaintance.
coranto? My very walk should be a jig! I would not so Mar. My name is Mary, sir.
much as make water, but in a sink-a-pace. What dost Sir. And. Good mistress Mary Accost,
thou mean? is it a world to hide virtues in? I did think, Sir To. You mistake, knight: accost is, front her, by the excellent constitution of thy leg, it was formed board her, woo her, assail her.
under the star of a galliard. Sir And. By my troth, I would not undertake her in Sir And. Ay, 'tis strong, and it does indifferent well this company. Is that the meaning of accost? in a flame-coloured stock. Shall we set about some Mar. Fare you well, gentlemen.
revels? Sir To. Anthon let part so, sir Andrew, 'would thou Sir To. What shall we do else? were we not born might'st never draw sword again.
under Taurus? Sir And. An you part so, mistress, I would I might Sir And. Taurus ? that's sides and heart. never draw sword again. Fair lady, do you
Sir To. No, sir; it is legs and thighs. Let me see thee have fools in haud ?
caper: ha! higher: ha, ha! - excellent! (Exeunt. Mar. Sir, I have not you by the hand.
Sir And. Marry, but you shall have: and here's my SCENE IV.-- A room in the Duke's palace. hand.
Enter VALENTINE, and Viola in man's attire. Mar. Now, sir, thought is free: I pray you, bring Val. If the duke continue these favours towards you, your hand to the buttery-bar, and let it drink. Cesario, you are like to be much advanced: he hath Sir And. Wherefore, sweet heart? what's your me- known you but three days, and already you are no Mar. It's dry, sir.
taphor? stranger. Sir And. Why, I think so; I am not such an ass, but Vio. You either fear his humour, or my negligence, I can keep my han dry. But what's your jest? that you call in question the continuance of his love. Mar. A dry jest, sir.
Is he inconstant, sir, in his favours? Sir And. Are you full of them?
Val. No, believe me. Mar. Ay, sir; I have them at my fingers ends': mar- Enter Duke, Curio, and Attendants. ry, now I let go your hand, I am barren. [Exit Maria. Vio. Ithank you. Here comes the count. Sir To. O knight, thou lack'st a cup of canary! When Duke. Who saw Cesario, ho? did I see thee so put down?
Vio. On your attendance, my lord; here. Sir And. Never in your life, I think; unless you see Duke. Stand you awhile aloof. — Cesario, canary put me down. Methinks, sometimes I have no Thou know'st no less but all; I have unclasp’d more wit than a Christian, or an ordinary man has: but To thee the book even of my secret soul: I am a great eater of beef, and, I believe, that does Therefore, good youth, address thy gait unto her; harm to my wit.
Be not deny'd access, stand at her doors, Sir To. No question.
And tell them, there thy fixed foot shall grow, Sir And. An I thought that, 'I'd forswear it. I'll Till thou have audience. ride home to-morrow, sir Toby.
Vio. Sure, my noble lord, Sir To. Pourquoy, my dear knight!
If she be so abandon'd to her sorrow, Sir And. What is pourquoy? do or not do? I would as it is spoke, she never will admit me. I had bestowed that time in the tongues, that I have in Duke. Be clamorous, and leap all civil bounds, fencing, dancing, and bear-baiting. O, had I but fol- Rather than make unprofited return! lowed the arts !
Vio. Say, I do speak with her, my lord; what then? Sir To. Then hadst thou had an excellent head of Duke. Ö, then unfold the passion of my love, hair.
Surprise her with discourse of my dear faith: Sir And. Why, would that have mended my
hair? It shall become thee well to act my woes;
Than in a nuncio of more grave aspéct.
That say, thou art a man: Diana's lip Sir And. 'Faith, I'll home to-morrow, sir Toby: Is not more smooth, and rubious; thy small pipe your niece will not be seen; or, if she be, it's four to Is as the maiden's organ, shrill, and sound, one she'll none of me: the count himself, here hard And all is semblative a woman's part. by, wooes her.
I know, thy constellation is right apt Sir To. She'll none o' the count; she'll not match For this affair.- Some four, or five, attend him; above her degree, neither in estate, years, nor wit; 1 411, if you will; for I myself am best, have heard her swear it. Tut, there's life in't, man. When least in company. - Prosper well in this,
Sir And. I'll stay a month longer. I am a fellow o' And thou shalt live as freely as thy lord,
Vio. I'll do my best, Sir To. Art thou good at these kickshaws, knight? To woo your lady: yet, ( A side.] a barful strife ! Sir And. As any man in Illyria, whatsoever he be, Whoe'er I woo, myself would be his wife. (Exeunt. under the degree of my betters; and yet I will not compare with an old man.
SCENE V.- Aroom in Olivia's house, Sir To. What is thy excellence in a galliard, knight?
Enter MARIA, and Clown. Sir And. 'Faith, I can cut a caper.
Mar. Nay, either tell me, where thou hast been, or I Sir To. And I can cut the mutton to't.
will not open my lips, so wide as a bristle may enter, in Sir And. And, I think, I have the back-trick, sim- way of thy excuse: my lady will hang thee for thy abply as strong as any man in Illyria.
Sir To. Wherefore are these things hid? wherefore Clo. Let her hang me! he, that is well hanged in this have these gifts a curtain before them? are they like world, needs to fear no colours. to take dust, like mistress Mall's picture? why dost! Mar. Make that good!
Clo. He shall see none to fear.
Oli. How say you to that, Malvolio? Mar. A good lenten answer! I can tell thee where Mal. I marvel your ladyship takes delight in such a that saying was born, of I fear no colours.
barren rascal; I saw him put down the other day with Clo. Where, good mistress Mary?
an ordinary fool, that has no more brain, than a stone. Mar. In the wars; and that may you be bold to say in Look you now, he's out of his guard already; unless your foolery.
you laugh and minister occasion to him, he is gagged. Clo. Well, God give them wisdom, that have it; and I protest, I take these wise men, that crow so at these those that are fools, let them use their talents. set kind of fools, no better than the fools' zanies,
Mar. Yet you will be hanged, for being so long ab- oli. O, you are sick of self-love, Malvolio, and taste sent: or, to be turned away, is not that as good as a with a distempered appetite. To be generous, guilthanging to you?
less, and of free disposition, is to take those things Clo. Many a good hanging prevents a bad marriage; for bird-bolts, that you deem cannon-bullets: there and for turning away, let summer bear it out. is no slander in an allowed fool, though he do nothing Mar. You are resolute then?
but rail; nor no railing in a known discreet man, Clo. Not so neither; but I am resolved on two points. though he do nothing but reprove, Mar. That, if one break, the other will hold; or, if clo. Now Mercury endue thee with leasing, for thou both break, your gaskins fall.
speakest well of fools ! Clo. Apt, in good faith; very apt! Well, go thy
Re-enter MARIA. way; if sir Toby would leave drinking, thou wert as Mar. Madam, there is at the gate a young gentleman, witty a piece of Eve's flesh as any in Illyria.
much desires to speak with you. Mar. Peace, you rogue, no more o'that; here comes Oli. From the count Orsino, is it? my lady: make your excuse wisely, you were best. Mar. I know not, madam; 'tis a fair young man, and
(Exit. well attended. Enter Olivia and MALVOLIO.
Oli. Who of my people hold him in delay? Clo. Wit, an’t bethy will, put me into good fooling! Mar. Sir Toby, madam, your kinsman. Those wits,that think they have thee,do very oft prove Oli. Fetch him off, I pray you; he speaks nothing but fools; and I, that am sure I lack thee, may pass for a madman: fye on him! (Exit Maria.] Go you, Malwise man: for what says Quinapulas? Better a witty volio: ifit be a suit from the count, i am sick, or not fool, than a foolish wit. - God bless thee, lady! at home; what you will, to dismiss it. (Exit MalvoOli. Take the fool away!
lio.] Now you see, sir, how your fooling grows old, and Clo. Do you not hear, fellows? Take away the lady! people dislike it. Oli. Go to, you're a dry fool; I'll no more of you: Clo. Thou hast spoke for us, madonna, as if thy eldbesides, you grow dishonest.
est son should be a fool: whose skull Jove cram with Clo. Two faults, madonna, that drink and good coun- brains, for here he comes, one of thy kin, has a most sel will amend; for give the dry fool drink, then is the weak pia mater. fool not dry; bid the dishonest man mend himself; if
Enter SIR TOBY Belch. he mend, he is no longer dishonest; if he cannot, let Oli. By mine honour, half drunk. What is he at the the botcher mer him. Any thing, that's mended, is gate, cousin? but patched : virtue, that transgresses, is but patched Sir. To. A gentleman. with sin; and sin, that amends, is but patched with Oli. A gentleman? What gentleman? virtue. If that this simple syllogism will serve, so; if Sir To. 'Tis a gentleman here A plague o' these it will not, what remedy? As there is no true cuckold pickle-herrings! How now, sot? but calamity, so beauty's a flower :- the lady bade clo. Good sir Toby, take away the fool; therefore, I say again, take her Oli. Consin, cousin, how have you come so early by away!
this lethargy? oli. Sir, I bade them take away you.
Sir To. Lechery! I defy lechery! There's one at Clo. Misprision in the Irighest degree! — Lady, Cu- the gate. cullus non facit monachum; that's as much as to say, Oli. Ay, marry; what is he? I wear not motley in my brain. Good madonna, give Sir To. Let him be the devil, an he will, I care not: me leave to prove you a fool!
give me faith, sayl. Well, it's all one. (Exit. Oli. Can you do it?
Oli. What's a drunken man like, fool? Clo. Dexterously, good madonna.
Clo. Like a drown'd man, a fool, and a madman: one Oli. Make your proof!
draught above heat makes him a fool; the second mads Clo. I must catechize you forit, madonna; good my him; and a third drowns him. mouse of virtue, answer me!
Oli. Go thou and seek the coroner, and let him sit o' Oli. Well, sir, for want of other idleness, I'll bide my coa; for he's in the third degree of drink, he's your proof.
drown'd: go, look after him. Clo. Good madonna, why mourn'st thou?
Clo. He is but mad yet, madonna; and the fool shall Oli. Good fool, for my brother's death.
look to the madman.
[Bxit Clown. Clo. I think, his soulis in hell, madonna.
Re-enter MalvoLIO. Oli. I know his soulis in heaven, fool.
Mal. Madam,yond young fellow swears, he will speak Clo. The more fool you, madonna, to mourn for with you. I told him,you were sick; he takes on him to your brother's soul being in heaven. - Take away the understand so much, and therefore comes to speak with fool, gentlemen!
you: I told him you were asleep; he seems to have a Oli. What think you of this fool, Malvolio? doth he fore-knowledge of that too, and therefore comes to not mend?
speak with you. What is to be said to him, lady? he's Mal. Yes; and shall do, till the pangs of death shake fortified against any denial. him. Infirmity, that decays the wise, doth ever make oli. Tell him, he shall not speak with me. the better fuol.
Mal. He has been told so; and he says, he'll stand Clo. God send you, sir, a speedy infirmity, for the at your door like a sheriff's post, and be the supporter better encreasing your folly! Sir Toby will be sworn, ofa bench, but he'll speak with you. that I am no fox; but he will not pass his word for Oli. What kind of man is he? two-pence, that you are no fool.
Mal. Why, of man kind.
Oli. What manner of man ?
Vio. To answer by the method, in the first of his Mal. Of very ill manner; he'll speak with you, will heart. you, or no.
Oli. O, I have read it; it is heresy. Have you no more Oh. Of what personage, and years, is he?
to say? Mal. Not yet old enough for a man, nor young enough Vio. Good madam, let me see
face! for a boy; as a squash is before 'tis a peas-cod, or a Oli. Have you any commission from your lord to codling when 'tis almost an apple: 'tis with him e'en negociate with my face? you are now out of your text: standing water, between boy and man. Heis very well, but we will draw the curtain, and shew you the picture. favoured, and he speaks very shrewishly; one would Look you, sir, such a one as I was this present: is't not think, his mother's milk were scarce out of him. well done?
(Unveiling Oli. Let him approach! Call in my gentlewoman! Vio. Excellently done, if God did all. Mal, Gentlewoman, my lady calls.
[Erit. Oli. 'Tis in grain, sir; 'twill enduro wind and Re-enter MARIA.
weather. Oli. Give me my veil : come, throw it o'er my face! Vio. 'Tis beauty truly blent, whose red and white We'll once more hear Orsino's embassy.
Nature's own sweet and conning hand laid on.
y, you are the cruel'st she alive, Vio. The honourable lady of the house, which is she? If you will lead these graces to the grave, Oli. Speak to me, I shall answer for her: Your will? And leave the world no copy,
Vio. Most radiant, exquisite, and unmatchable Oli. 0, sir, I will not be so hard-hearted; I will give beauty,-- I pray you, tell me, if this be the lady of the sout diverse schedules of my beauty: it shall be invenhouse, for I never saw her: I would be loath to cast toried; and, every particle,and utensil, labelled to my away my speech; for, besides that it is excellently will: as, item, two lips indifferent red; item, two grey well penn'd, I have taken great pains to con it. Good eyes, with lids to them; item, one neck, one chin, and beauties, let me sustain no scorn; Iam very comptible, so forth. Were you sent hither to’praise me? even to the least sinister usage.
Vio. I see you what you are: you are too proud; Oli. Whence came you, sir?
But, if you were the devil, you are fair. Vio. I can say little more than I have studied, and My lord and master loves you; 0, such love that question's out of my part. Good gentle one, give Could be but recompens'd, though you were crown'd me modest assurance, if you be the lady of the house, The nonpareil of beauty! that I may proceed in my speech.
Oli. How does he love me? Oli. Are you a comedian?
Vio. With adorations, with fertile tears, Vio. No, my profound heart: and yet, by the very With groans that thunder love, with sighs of fire. fangs of malice, I swear, I am not that I play. Are you Oli. Your lord does know my mind, I cannot love him: the lady of the house?
Yet I suppose him virtuous, know him noble, Oli. If I do not usurp myself, I am.
Of great estate, of fresh and stainless youth, Vio. Most certain if you are she, you do usurp your- In voices well divnlg’d, free, learn'd, and valiant, self; for what is yours to bestow, is not yours to re- And, in dimension, and the shape of nature, serve. But this is from my commission: I will on with A gracious person: but yet I cannot love him; my speech in your praise, and then show you the heart Hemight have took his answer long ago. of my message.
Vio. If I did love you in my master's flame, Oli. Come to what is important in't: I forgive you with such a suffering, such a deadly life, the praise.
In your denial I would find no sense, Vio. Alas, I took great pains to study it, and 'tis I would not understand it. poetical!
Oli. Why, what would you? Oli. It is the more like to be feigned; I pray you,
Vio. Make me a willow cabin at your gate, keep it in! I heard you were saucy at my gates, and And call upon my soul within the house; allowed your approach rather to worder at you than Write loyal cantons of contemocd love, to hear you. If you be not mad, be gone; if you have and sing them loud even in the dead of night, reason, be brief: 'tis not that time of moon with me, Holla your name to the reverberate hills, to make one in so skipping a dialogue.
And make the babbling gossip of the air
Vio. No, good swabber; I am to hull here a little Between the elements of air and earth,
. You might do much. What is your parentage? Vio. I am a messenger.
Vio. Above my fortunes, yet my state is well : Oli. Sure, you have some hideous matter to deliver, I am a gentleman. when the courtesy of it is so fearful. Speak your office ! Oli. Get you to your lord;
Vio. It alone concerns your ear. I bring no overture I cannot love him: let him send no more; of war, no taxation of homage; I hold the olive in my Unless, perchance, you come to me again, hand; my words are as full of peace as matter. To tell me how he takes it. Fare you well:
Oli. Yet you began rudely. What are you? what I thank you for your pains; spend this for me! would you?
Vio. I am no fec'd post, lady; keep your purse; Vio. The rudeness, that hath appear'd in me, have I My master, not myself, lacks recompense. learn'd from my entertainment. Whatsam, and what Love make his heart offlint, that you shall love; I would, are as secret, as maidenhead: to your ears, And let your fervour, like my master's, be divinity; to any others, profanation.
Plac'd in contempt! Farewell, fair cruelty ! [Exit. Oli. Give us the place alone: we will hear this divi- Oli. What is your parentage? nity. (Exit Maria.] – Now, sir, what is your text? Above my fortunes, yet my state is well; Vio. Most sweet lady,
I am a gentleman.
-I'll be sworn thou art; Oli. A comfortable doctrine, and much may be said Thy tonguc, thy face, thy limbs, actions, and spirit, of it. Where lies your text?
Do give thee five-fold blazon :- Not too fast: - soft ! Vio. In Orsino's bosom.
soft! Oli. Iv his bosom ? in what chapter of his bosom? Unless the master were the man. - How now?