That can such sweet use make of what they hate,
When saucy trusting of the cozen'd thoughts
Detiles the pitchy night I so lust doth play
With what it loathes, for that which is away:
But more of this hereafter.—You, Diana,
Under iny poor instructions, yet must suffer
Something in my behalf.

Di'a. Let death and honesty

Go with your impositions, I am yours
Upon your will to suffer.

Hel. Yet, I pray you,—

But, with the word, the time will bring on summer,
When briers shall have leaves as well as thorns.
And be as sweet as sharp. We must away:
Our waggon is prepar*d, and time revives us:
All ^ well that ends well: still the tine's the crown;
Whate'er the course, the end is the renown.

[Exeunt.

SCENE V.—Rousillon. A Room in the Countess's Mansion.

Enter Countess, Lafeu, and Clown.

Laf. No, no, no, your son was misled with a sru'pttaffeta fellow there, whose villainous saffron would have made all the unbaked and doughy youth of a nation in his colour: your daughter-in-law had been alive at this hour, and your son here at home, more advanced by the king, than by that red-tailed humblebee I speak of.

Count. I would I had not known him I It was the death of the most virtuous gentlewoman, that ever nature had praise for creating: if she had partaken of my flesh, and cost me the dearest groans of a mother, I could not have owed her a more rooted love.

La/. 'Twasa good lady, "twasa good lady: we may

Kick a thousand salads, ere we light on such another erb.

City. Indeed, sir, she was the ewftet-marjoram of the Salad, or, rather, the herb of grace.

La/. They are not salad-herbs, you knave: they are nose-herbs. [not much skill in grass.

Cto. I am no great Nebuchadnezzar, sir; 1 have

La/. Whether dost thou profess thyself,—a knave, or a fool?

do. A fool, sir, at a woman's service, and a knave. La/. Your distinction T (at a man's.

Cto. I would cozen the man of his wife, and do his service.

La/. So you were a knave at his service, indeed. Cto. And I would give his wife my bauble, sir. to do her service.

La/. I will subscribe for thee, thou art both knave and fool. Cto. At your service. J^a/. No, no, no.

Cto. Why, sir, if I cannot serve you, I can serve as great a prince as you are.

Laf. Who's that I a Frenchman?

Cto. Faith, sir, a' has au English name; but his phisnotny is more hotter in France, than there.

La/. What prince is that?

Cto. The Black Prince, sir; alias, the prince of darkness; alias, the devil.

La/. Hold thee, there's my purse: I give thee not this to suggest thee from thy master thou talkest of; serve him still,

Cto. I am a woodland fellow, sir, that always loved a great Are; and the master I speak of, ever keeps a ijood Are. But, sure, he is the prince of the world; let his nobility remain in's court. I am for the house with the narrow gate, which 1 take to be too little for

Eomp to enter: some that humble themselves, may; ut the many will be too chill and tender, and they 11 be for the flowery way that leads to the broad gate and the great fire.

La/. Go thy ways, I begin to be a-weary of thee; and I tell thee so before, because I would not fall out with thee. Go thy ways: let my horses be well looked to, without any tricks.

Cto. If 1 put any tricks upon 'em, sir, they shall be jade's tricks, which are their own right by the law of nature. [Exit. La/. A. shrewd knave, and an unhappy. Count. So he is. My lord, that "s gone, made himself much sport out of him: by his authority he remains here, which he thinks is a patent for his

sauciness; and, indeed, he lias no pace, but runs

where he will.

La/. I like him well; 'tis not amiss. And I was about to tell you, since I heard of the good lady's death, and that my lord, your son, was upon his return home, I moved the king, my master, to speak in the behalf of my daughter; which, in the minority of them both, his majesty, out of a self-gracious remembrance, did first propose: his highness hath promised me to do it; and, to stop up the displeasuie he hath conceived against your son, there is no fitter matter. How does your ladyship like it T

Count. With very much content, my lord; and I wish it happily effected.

Lmf, His highness comes post from Marseilles, of as able body as when he numbered thirty: he will be here to-morrow, or I am deceived by him tliat in such intelligence hath seldom failed.

Count. It rejoices me, that I hope I shall see him ere I die. I have letters that my son will be here to-nigltf : I shall beseech your lordship to with me till they meet together.

/ if. Madam, I was thinking with what i I might safely be admitted. (privile

Count. You need but plead your honours

La/. Lady, of that I have made a bold charter; but, I tliank my God, it holds yet.

Re-enter Clown.

Cto. O madam, yonder s my lord your son with a patch of velvet on's face: whether there be a scar under it. or no, the velvet knows; but 'tis a goodly patch of velvet: his left cheek is a cheek of two pile and a half, but his right cheek is worn bare.

La/. A scar nobly got, or a noble scar, is a good livery of honour; so belike is that.

Cto. But it is your carbonadoed face.

Ixtf. Let us go see your son, I pray you: I long to talk with the young noble soldier.

Clo. 'Faith, there "s a dozen of 'em, with delicato fine hats, and most courteous feathers, which bow the head, and nod at every man. [Exeunt.

ACT V.

SCENE I.—Marseilles. A Street.
Enter Helena, Widow, and Diana, -with two
Attendants.

Hel. But this exceeding posting, day and night,
Must wear your spirits low, we cannot help it:
But, since you have made the days and nights as one,
To wear your gentle limbs in my affairs.
Be bold you do so grow in my requital.
As nothing can unroot you.—In happy tune;

Entsr a gentle A stringer.
This man may help me to his majesty's car.
If he would spend his power.—God save you, sir.

Gent. And you.

Hel. Sir, I have seen you in the court of France.

Cent. I have been sometimes there.

Hel. I do presume, sir, that you are not fall'n
From the report that goes upon your goodness;
And therefore, goaded with most sharp occasions,
Which lay nice manners by, I put you to
The use of vourown virtitts, for the which
I shall continue thankful.

Cent. What's your will t

Hei. That it will please you
To give this poor petition to the king;
Aad aid me with that store of power you have
To come into his presence.

Gent. The king s not here.

Hel. Not here, sir T

Gent. Not, indeed:

He hence remov'd last night, and with more haste
Than is his use.

H'id. Lord, how we lose our pains I

Hel. All's well that ends well yet. Though time seems so adverse, and mean i do beseech you, whither is he gone?

Gent, Marry, as I take it, to Rousillon; Whither I am going.

Hel. I do beseech you, sir,

Since you are like to see the king before me.
Commend the paper to his gracious hand;
Which, I presume, shall render you no hlaine.
But rather make you thank your pains for it.

I will come after you, with what good speed
Our means will make us means.

Gent. This lU do for you.

He/. And you shall find yourself to be well thank'd, Whate'er falls more.—We must to horse again :— Go, go, provide. [Exeunt.

SCENE II.—Rousillon. The inner Court of t/te Countess's Palace.

Enter Clown and Parolles. Par. Good monsieur Lavatch, give my lord Lafeu this letter: I have ere now, sir, been better known to you, when I have held familiarity with fresher clothes; but I am now, sir, muddied in fortune's mood' and smell somewhat strong of her strong displeasure.

Clo. Truly, fortune's displeasure is but sluttish, if it smell so strongly as thou speakest of: I will henceforth eat no fish of fortune's buttering. Pr'ythee, allow the wind.

Bar. Nay, you need not to stop your nose, sir; I spake hut by a metaphor.

Clo. Indeed, sir, if your metaphor stink, I will stop my nose; or against any man's metaphor. Pr'ythee, get thee farther.

Par. Pray you, sir, deliver me this paper.

Clo. Fohl pr'ythee, stand away; a paper from fortune's close-stool to give to a nobleman I Look, here he comes himself.

Enter Lafeu. Here is a pur of fortune's, sir, or of fortune's cat, {but not a musk-cat,) that has fallen into the unclean fishpond of her displeasure, and, as he says, is mud died withal: pray you, sir, use the carp as you may; for he looks like a poor, decayed, ingenious, foolish, rascally knave,- I do pity his distress in my smiles of comfort, and leave him to your lordship.

[Exit.

Par. My lord, I am a man whom fortune hath cruelly scratched.

La/. And what would you have me to do: 'tis too late to pare her nails now. Wherein have you played the knave with fortune, that she should scratch you, who of herself is a good lady, and would not have knaves thrive long under her i There's a quart d'ecu for you; let the justices make you and fortune friends; I am for other business. [word.

Par. I beseech your honour to hear me one single

La/. You beg a single penny more : come, you shall ha't; save your word.

Par. My name, my good lord, is Parolles.

La/. You beg more than one word, then.—Cox' my passion] give me your hand:—how does your drum? |found me.

Par. O, lny good lord 1 you were the first that

La/. Was f, in sooth? and I was the first that lost thee.

Par. It lies in you, my lord, to bring me in some grace, for you did bring ine out.

I^xf. Out upon thee, knave 1 dost thou put upon me at once both the office of God and the devil? one brings thee in grace, and the other brings thee out.

tTrumpets sound,.] The king's coming; I know by is trumpets.—Sirrah, enquire further after me : 1 had talk of you last night: though you are a fool and a knave, you shall cat; go to, lollow. Par, I praise God for you. \Exeunt.

SCENE 1II.—Rousillon. A Roomin the Countess's Palace.

Flourish. Enter King, Countess. Lafeu, Lords,
Gentlemen, Guards, &c.

King. We losta jewel of her: and our esteem
Was made much poorer by it: but your son,
As mad in folly, lack'd the sense to know
Her estimation home.

Count. 'Tis past, my liege;

And I beseech your malesty to make it
Natural rebellion done i' the blaze of youth;
When oil and fire, too strong for reason's force,
O'erbears it, and burns on.

King. My honour'd lady,

I have forgiven and forgotten all;
Though my revenges were high bent upon him,
And watch'd the time to shoot.

La/. This I must say,—

But first I beg my pardon,—the young lord

Did to his majesty, his mother, and Ins lady,

Offence of mighty note; but to himself

The greatest wrong of all : he lost a wife,

Whose beauty did astonish the survey

Of richest eyes; whose words all ears took captive;

Whose dear perfection, hearts that scorned to serve,

Humbly call'd mistress.

King. Praising what is lost

Makes the remembrance dear.—Well, call him hither;

We are reconcil'd, and the first view shall kill
All repetition:—let him not ask our pardon;
The nature of his great offence is dead.
And deeper than oblivion we do bury
The incensing relics of it : let hiin approach,
A stranger, no offender: and inform him,
So 'tis our will he should.
Gent. I shall, my liege.

[£**

King. What says he to your daughter? have yo« spoke I

La/. All that he is hath reference to your highness, [sent me, King. Then shall we have a match. I have letters That set him high in fame.

Enter Bertram.

La/. He looks well on %

King. I am not a day of season.
For thou mayst see a sunshine and a hail
In me at once: but to the brightest beams
Distracted clouds give way; so stand thou forth,
The time is fair again.

Ber. My high repented blames.

Dear sovereign, pardon to me.

King. All is whole;

Not one word more of the consumed tune.
Let's take the instant by the forward top;
For we are old, and on our quick'st decrees
Th' inaudible and noiseless foot of time
Steals ere we can effect them. You remember
The daughter of this lord?

Ber. Admiringly, my liege: at first
I stuck my choice upon her, ere my heart
Durst make too bold a herald of my tongue:
Where the impression of mine eye infixing.
Contempt his scornful perspective did lend me,
Which warp'd the line of every other favour;
Scorn'd a fair colour, or express'd it stol'n;
Extended or contracted all proportions
To a most hideous object: thence it came,
That she whom all men prais'd, and whom myself*
Since 1 have lost, have lov'd, was in mine eye
The dust that did offend it.

King. Well excus'd:

That thou didst love her, strikes some scores away
From the great compt: but love that comes too late.
Like a remorseful pardon slowly carried.
To the great sender turns a sour offence.
Crying, That *s good that *s gone. Our rash faults
Make trivial price of serious things we have.
Not knowing them, until we know their grave:
Oft our displeasures, to ourselves unjust,
Destroy our friends, and after weep their dust:
Our own love, waking, cries to see what's done,
While shameful hate sleeps out the afternoon.
Be this sweet Helen's knell, and now forget her.
Send forth your amorous token for fair Maudlin:
The main consents are had; and here we'll stay
To see our widower's second marriage-day.

Count. Which better than the first, O dear heaven. Or, ere they meet, in ine, O nature, cease 1 [bless 1

La/. Come on, iny son, in whom my house's name Must be digested, give a favour from you. To sparkle in the spirits of my daughter. That she may quickly come.—[tit;r.£ives Laf. aring.l By my old beard. And every hair that's on't, Helen, that "s dead. Was a sweet creature: such a ring as this. The last that e'er I took her leave at court, 1 saw upon her finger.

Ber. Hers it was not.

King. Now, pray you, let me see it; for mine eye, While I was speaking, oft was fasten'd to't.— This ring was mine; and, when I gave it I*' I bade her, if her fortunes ever stood Necessitied to help, that by this token

I would relieve her. Had you that craft to reave her Of what should stead her mostf

Ber. My gracious sovereign,

Howe'er it pleases you to take it so,
The ring was never hers.

Count. Son, on my life,

I have seen her wear it; and she reckon'd it
At her life's rate.

Laf. I am sure I saw her wear it.

Ber. You are decciv'd. my lord; she never saw H: In Florence was it from a casement thrown me, Wrapp'd in a paper, which contain'd the name Of her that threw it: noble she was, and thought I stood ingag'd : but when I had subscribed To mine own fortune, and inform*d her fully I could not answer in that course of honour As she had made the overture, she ceas'd, In heavy satisfaction, and would never Receive the ring again.

King. Plutus himself.

That knows the ttnet and multiplying medicine,
Hath not in nature's mystery more science.
Than I have in this ring: 'twas mine, 'twas Helen's,
"Whoever gave it you. "Then, if you know
That you are well acquainted with yourself.
Confess 'twas hers, and by what rough enforcement
You got it from her: she call'd the saints to surety,
That she would never put it from her linger,
Unless she gave it to yourself in bed,
(Where you have never come,) or sent it us
Upon her great disaster.

Ber. She never saw it.

King. Thou speak'st it falsely, as I love mine honour
And mak'st conjectural fears to come into me.
Which I would fain shut out. If it should prove
That thou art so inhuman,—'twill not prove so;—
And yet I know not:—thou didst hate her deadly,
And she is dead; which nothing, but to close

aer eyes myself, could win me to believe,
ore than to see this ring,—Take him away.—

[Guards seize Bertram.
My fore-past proofs, howe'er the matter fall.
Shall tax my fears of little vanity.
Having vainly fear'd too little.—Away with him 1
Well sift this matter further.

Ber. If you shall prove

This ring was ever hers, you shall as easy
Prove that I husbanded her bed in Florence,
Where yet she never was. \Exitguarded.

King. I am wrapp'd in dismal thinkings.

Enter the gentle Astringer.
Gent. Gracious sovereign.

Whether I have been to blame, or no, I know not:
Here's a petition from a Florentine,
Who hath, for four or five removes, come short
To tender it herself. I undertook it.
Vanquish d thereto by the fair grace and speech
Of the poor suppliant, who by this, I know.
Is here attending: her business looks in her
With an importing visage; and she told me.
In a sweet verbal brief, it did concern
Your highness with herself.

King. [Reads.] " Upon his many protestations to marry me-when his wife jvas dead, I blush to say it, he won me. Now is the count Rousillon a widoiver; his fows are forfeited to me, and my honour's paid to him. He stole from Florence, taking no leave, and i folloiv him to his country for justice: grant it me,

0 king! in yon it best ties; otherwise a seducer flourishes, ami a poor maid is undone.

DIANA CAPULET. Laf. I will buy me a son-in-law, in a fair and toll for this: 111 none of him.

King. The heavens have thought well on thee, Lafeu, To bring forth this discovery.—Seek these suitors: Go speedily, and bring again the count.

[Exeunt the gentle Astringer, and some
Attendants.

1 am afeard the life of Helen, lady,
Was foully snatch'd,

Count, Now, j-stice on the doers 1

Re-enter Bertram, guarded.

King. I wonder, sir, since wives are monsters to you. And that you fly them as you swear them lordship, Yet you desire to marry.—

Re-enter the gentle Astringer, with Widow Diana What woman's that f |

Dia. I am, my lord, a wretched Florentine,

Derived from the ancient Capulet:
My suit, as I do understand, you know,
And therefore know how far I may be pitied.

IVid. 1 am her mother, sir, whose age and honour
Both suffer under this complaint we bring:
And both shall cease, without your remedy.
King. Come hither, count:do you know these women!
Ber. My lord, I neither can nor will deny
But that I know them: do they charge me farthcrt
Dia. Why do you look so s:range upon your wife!
Bed. She s none of mine, my lord.
Dia. If you shall marry,

You give away this hand, and that is mine;
You give away heaven's vows, and those are mine;
Vou give away myself, which is known mine;
For f by vow am so embodied yours,
That she which marries you must marry me.
Either both or none.

Laf. [To Bertram.] Your reputation comes too short for my daughter; you are no husband for her.

Ber. My lord, this is a fond and desperate creature. Whom sometime I have laugh'd with :let your highness I ay a more noble thought upon mine honour. Than for to think that T would sink it here. [friend. King. Sir, for my thoughts, you have them ill to Till your deeds gain them: fairer prove your honour, Than in my thought it lies,

Dia. Good my lord.

Ask him upon his oath, if he does think
He had not my virginity.
King, What say st thou to her?
Ber. She's impudent, my lord;

And was a common gamester to the camp.

Dia. He does me wrong, my lord; if 1 were so,
He might have bought me at a common price;
Do not believe him: O, behold this ring.
Whose high respect and rich validity
Did lack a parallel; yet, for all that.
He gave it to a commoner o" the camp,
If I be one.

Count, He blushes, and 'tis it:
Of six preceding ancestors, that gem
Couferr'd by testament to the sequent issue,
Hath ft been ow'd and worn. This is his wife;
That ring's a thousand proofs.

King. Methought you said

You saw one here in court could witness it.

Dia, 1 did, iny lord, but loth am to produce So bad an instrument: his name's Parolles. Laf. 1 saw the man to-day, if man he be. King. Find him, and bring him hither.

[Exit an Attendant Ber. What of him!

He's quoted for a most perfidious slave,
With all the spots of the world tax'd and debosh'd;
Whose nature sickens but to speak a truth.
Am 1 or that, or this, for what he'll utter.
That will speak anything?
King. She hath that ring of yours.

Ber. I think she has: certain it is, I lik d her.
Ami boarded her i' the wanton way of youth:
She knew her distance, and did angle for me,
Madding my eagerness with her restraint,
As all impediments in fancy's course
Are motives of more fancy: and, in fine,
Her infinite cunning, with her modem grace.
Subdued me to her rate: she got the ring;
And I had that, which any inferior might
At marketrprice have bought.

Dia. I must be patient

You, that have tum'd off a first so noble wife.
May justly diet me. I pray you yet,
(Since you lack virtue, f will lose a husband,)
Send for your ring, I will return it home.
And give ine mine again.
Ber. I have it not.

King. What ring was yours, I pray youf
Dia. Sir, much like

The same upon your finger.

King. Know you this ring? this ring was his of late. Dia. And this was it I gave him, being a-bed. King. The story then goes false, you threw it him Out of a casement. Dia. I have spoke the truth.

Ber. My lord, I do confess, the ring was hers. King. You boggle shrewdly, every feather Harts you.—

Enter Parolles, Is this the man you speak of?

Dia. Ay, my lord.

King. Tell me, sirrah, but tellnie true, I charge you. Not fearing the displeasure of your master, (Which, on your just proceeding, I'll keep off,)' By him, ana by this woman here, what know you?

Par. So please your majesty, my master hath been an honourable gentleman: tricks he hath had in him, which gentlemen have.

King. Come, come, to the purpose: did he love this woman?

Par. 'Faith, sir, he did love her; but how?

King. How, I pray you?

Par. He did love her, sir, as a gentleman loves a woman. King. How is that?

Par, He loved her, sir, and loved her not. King. As thou art a knave, and no knave.— What an equivocal companion is this 1 Par. I am a poor man, and at your majesty's cora

Laf, He is a good drum, my lord, but a naughty orator.

Dia. Do you know he promised me marriage?

Par. 'Faith, I know more than I'll speak.

King. But wilt thou not speak all thou knowest I

Par. Yes, so please your majesty. 1 did go between them, as I said; but more than that, he loved her,—for, indeed, he was inad for her, and talked of Satan, and of Umbo, and of furies, and I know not what: yet I was in that credit with them at that time, that I knew of their going to bed; and of other motions, as promising her marriage, and things which would derive me ill-will to, speak of; therefore I will not speak what 1 know. [canst

King. Thou hast spoken all already, unless thou Say they arc married: but thou art too fine la thy evidence ; therefore stand aside.— This ring, you say, was yours?

Dia. Ay. my good lord.

King. Where did you buy it? or who gave it you?

Dia. It was not given me, nor I did not buy it.

King. Who lent it you?

Dia. It was not lent me neither.

King. Where did you find it, then?

Dia. I found it not.

King. If it were yours by none of all these ways, How could you give it him?

Dia. I never gave it him.

La/. This woman's an easy glove, my iofd ; she goes •ff and on at pleasure.

King. This ring was mine; I gave it his first wife.

Dia. It might be yours, or hers, for aught I know.

King. Take her away; I do not like her now; To prison with her: and away with him.— Unless thou tell'st me where thou hadst this ring, Thou diest within this hour.

Dia. Ill never tell you.

King. Take her away.

Dia. I'll put in bail, my liege.

King. I think thee now some common customer.
Mia. By Jove, if ever I knew man, 'twas you.

King. Wherefore hast thou accus'd him all this while?

Dia. Because he's guilty, and he is not guilty:
He knows I am no maid, and he'll swear to't;
I'll swear I am a maid, and he knows not.
Great king, I am no strumpet, by my life!
1 am either maid, or else this old man's wife.

{Pointing to Lafeu.

King. She does abuse our ears: to prison with her.

Dia. Good mother, fetch my bail.—{Exit Widow.) Stay, royal sir; The jeweller that owes the ring is sent for. And ne shall surety me. But for this lord. Who hath abus'd me, as he knows himself. Though yet he never harm'd me, here I quit him: He knows himself my bed he hath defil'd; And at that time he got his wife with child: Dead though she be, she feels her young one kick: So there's my riddle. One that's dead is quick: And now behold the meaning.

Re-enter Widow, with Helena.

Kittg. Is there no exorcist

Beguiles the truer office of mine eyes?
Is t real that I see?

Net. No, my good lord;

'Tis but the shadow of a wife you see,
The name, and not the thing.

Ber. Both, both: O, pardon I

Net. O my good lord, when I was like this maid,)
I found you wondrous kind. There is your ring;
And, look you, here's your letter; this it says:
"When from my finger you can get this ring.
And tire by me with child, &c." This is done:
Wil you be mine, now you are doubly won?

Ber. If she, my liege, can make me know this clearly, I'll love her dearly, ever, ever dearly,

Hel. If it appear not plain, and prove untrue,
Deadly divorce itep between ine and you 1—
O my dear mother, do I see you living?

Laf. Mine eyes smell onions; I shall weep anon.— f To Parolles.] Good Tom Drum, lend me a handkerchief: so, I thank thee: wait on me home, I'll make sport with thee: let thy courtesies alone, they are scurvy ones.

King. Let u£ from point to point this story know,
To make the even truth in pleasure flow.—
{To Diana.] If thou best yet a fresh uncropped
flower.

Choose thou thy husband, and I'll pay thy dowe^;
For I can guess, that by thy honest aid.
Thou kept St a wife herself, thyself a maid.—
Of that and all the progress, more or less,
Resolvedly more leisure shall express:
All yet seems well; and if it end so meet,
The bitter past, more welcome is the sweet.

{Flourish*

The king's a beggar, now the play is done:
All is well ended, if this suit be won.
That you express content: which we will pay,
With strife to please you, day exceeding day:
Ours be your patience then, and yours our parts;
Your gentle hands lend us, and take our hearts.

\ Exeunt* Orsino, Duke <?_/TTJyria.

Sebastian, a young Gentleman, Brother to Viola,
Antonio, a Sea Captain, Friend to Sebastian.
A Sea Captain. Friend to Viola.
Valentine, j, Getttlemen attending on the Duke,
Curio, y

Sir Toby Belch, Uncle to Olivia.
Sir Andrew Ague-cheek.

Malvolio, Steward to Olivia.

Olivia, a rich Countess.
Viola, in love -with the Duke.
Maria, Olivia's Waiting-woman,
Lords, Priests, Sailors, Officers, I
other Attendants.

ACT I.

SCENE L—Am Apartment in the Duke's Palace.

Enter Duke, Curio, Lords; Musicians attending.

Duke, If music be the food of love, play on;
Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting. - _
The appetite may sicken, and so die.—
That strain againit had a dying fall;
O, it came o'er my car like the sweet south.
That breathes upon a bank of violets.
Stealing, and giving odour.—Enough ; no more:
'Tis not so sweet now, as it was before.
O spirit of love, how quick and fresh art thou I
That, notwithstanding thy capacity
Receiveth as the sea, naught enters there.
Of what validity and pitch soe'er.
But falls into abatement and low price.
Even in a minute 1 so full of shapes is fancy.
That it alone is high-fantastical.

Cur. Will you go hunt, my lord?

Duke. What, Curio?

Cur. The hart.

Duke. Why, so I do, the noblest that I have
O, when mine eyes did see Olivia first,
Methought she purg'd the air of pestilence:
That instant was I tum'd into a hart;
And my desires, like fell and cruel hounds.
E'er since pursue me.—

Enter Valentine.

How now I what news from her?

Vat. So please my lord, 1 might not be admitted; But from her handmaid do return this answer; The element itself, till seven years' heat. Shall not behold her face at ample view; But. like a cloistress, she will veiled walk. And water once a day her chamber round With eye-offending brine: all this to season A brother's dead love, which she would keep fresh And lasting in her sad remembrance.

Duke. O, she that hath a heart of that fine frame. To pay this debt of love but to ,1 brother, How will she love, when the rich golden shaft Hath kill'd the nock of all affections else That live in herl when liver, brain, and heart. These sovereign thrones, are all supplied and fiU'd (Her sweet perfection) with one self-king '.— Away before me to sweet beds of llowers: Love-thoughts lie rich, when canopied with bowers.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II.—The Sea-coast. . Enter Viola, Captain, and Sailors. Vio. What country, friends, is this? Caf. This is IHyria, lady

Vio. And what should I do in IHyria? My brother he is in Elysium.

Perchance.he is not drowu'd:—what think you sailors?. Caf. It is perchance that you yourself were sav'd. 1 Vto. O my poor brother I and so perchance may he be.

Cap. True, madam : and, to comfort you with chance Assure yourself, after our ship did split. Wh«n you, and those poor number sav'd with you, i

Hung on our driving boat, I saw your brother.

Most provident in peril, bind himself

(Courage and hope both teaching him the practice)

To a strong mast, that liv'd upon the sea j

Where, like Arion on the dolphin's back,

I saw him hold acquaintance with the waves

So long as I could sec.

Via. For saying so, there's gold:
Mine own escape unfoldeth to my hope.
Whereto thy speech serves for authority.
The like of nun. Know'st thou this country?

Cap. Ay, madam, well; for 1 was bred and born Not three hours'travel front this very place.

Vio. Who governs here?

Cap. A noble duke, in nature as in name.

Vio. What is his name}

Caf. Orsino.

Vio. Orsino 1 I have heard my father name him:

He was a bachelor then.

Cap. And so is now, or was so very late;
For but a month ago I went from hence.
And then 'twas fresh in murmur (as, you know.
What great ones do, the Jess will prattle of)
That he did seek the love of fair Olivia.

Vio. What's she?

Cap. A virtuous maid, the daughter of a count That died some twelvemonth since; then leaving her In the protection of his son, her brother. Who shortly also died : for whose dear love. They say, she hath abjur'd the company And sight of men.

Via. O that I serv'd that lady

And might not be deliver'd to the wo; Id,
Till I had made mine own occasion mellow,
What my estate is I

Cap. That were hard to compass;

Because she will admit no kind of suit.
No, not the duke's.

Via, There is a fair behaviour in thee, captain;
And though that nature with a beauteous wail
Doth oft close in pollution, yet of thee
I will believe, thou hast a mind that suits
With this thy fair and outward character.

pr'ythee, (and I'll pay thee iiounteously,)

onceal me what I am ; and be my aid
For such disguise as haply shall become
The form of my intent, i ll serve this duke
Thou shalt present me as a eunuch to him:
It may be worth thy pains; for I can sing.
And speak to him in many sorts of music
That will allow me very worth his service.
What else may hap, to time I will commit;
Only, shape thou thy silence to my wit

Cap. Be you his eunuch, and your mute IH bet When my tongue blabs, then lot mine eyes not see"

Vio. I thank thee: lead me on.

I

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 death of her brother thus? I am sure care's an enemy to life. Mar. By my troth, Sir Toby, you mutt coma Is