Yet, when I saw it last, it was besmear'd

As black as Vulcan, in the smoke of war:

A bawbling vessel was he captain of,

For shallow draught and bulk unprizable;
With which such scatheful grapple did he make
With the most noble bottom of our fleet,
That very envy and the tongue of loss,

Cried fame and honour on him.-What's the matter? 1 OFF. Orsino, this is that Antonio

That took the Phoenix and her fraught from Candy,
And this is he that did the tiger board,
When your young nephew Titus lost his leg:

Here in the streets, desperate of shame and state,

In private brabble did we apprehend him.

VIO. He did me kindness, sir; drew on my side; But, in conclusion, put strange speech upon me,— I know not what 'twas, but distraction.

DUKE. Notable pirate! thou salt-water thief! What foolish boldness brought thee to their mercies, Whom thou, in terms so bloody and so dear, Hast made thine enemies?

ANT.

Orsino, noble sir,

Be pleas'd that I shake off these names you give me;
Antonio never yet was thief or pirate,
Though, I confess, on base and ground enough,
Orsino's enemy. A witchcraft drew me hither:
That most ingrateful boy there by your side,
From the rude sea's enrag'd and foamy mouth
Did I redeem; a wreck past hope he was:
His life I gave him, and did thereto add
My love, without retention or restraint,
All his in dedication. For his sake,
Did I expose myself, pure for his love,
Into the danger of this adverse town;
Drew to defend him when he was beset;
Where being apprehended, his false cunning
(Not meaning to partake with me in danger)
Taught him to face me out of his acquaintance,
And grew a twenty-years-removed thing,

While one would wink; denied me mine own purse,
Which I had recommended to his use

VIO. And I most jocund, apt, and willingly, To do you res., a thousand deaths would die.

OLI. Where goes Cesario? Vio.

j [Following.

After him I love
More than I love these eyes, more than my life,
More, by all mores, than e'er I shall love wife.
If I do feign, you witnesses above,
Punish my life for tainting of my love!

OLI. Ay me, detested! how am I beguil'd!
VIO. Who does beguile you? who does do you
wrong?
OLI. Hast thou forgot thyself? is it so long?
Call forth the holy father. [Exit an Attendant.
DUKE.
Come, away! [To VIOLA.
OLI. Whither, my lord ?-Cesario, husband, stay!
DUKE. Husband?
OLI.

Ay, husband, can he that deny? DUKE. Her husband, sirrah? VIO. No, my lord, not I. OLI. Alas, it is the baseness of thy fear That makes thee strangle thy propriety: Fear not, Cesario, take thy fortunes up; Be that thou know'st thou art, and then thou art As great as that thou fear'st.

Re-enter Attendant, with Priest.

O, welcome, father!

Father, I charge thee, by thy reverence,
Here to unfold (though lately we intended
To keep in darkness, what occasion now
Reveal before 'tis ripe) what thou dost know,
Hath newly pass'd between this youth and me.

PRIEST. A contract of eternal bond of love,
Confirm'd by mutual joinder of your hands,
Attested by the holy close of lips,
Strengthen'd by interchangement of your rings:
And all the ceremony of this compact
Seal'd in my function, by my testimony:

Since when, my watch hath told me, toward my

But had it been the brother of my blood,

I must have done no less with wit and safety.
You throw a strange regard upon me, and by that,
I do perceive it hath offended you;
Pardon me, sweet one, even for the vows
We made each other but so late ago.

DUKE. One face, one voice, one habit, and two persons!

A natural perspective, that is and is not!

SEB. Antonio? O my dear Antonio!
How have the hours rack'd and tortur'd me,
Since I have lost thee!

ANT. Sebastian are you?
SEB.

Fear'st thou that, Antonio? ANT. How have you made division of yourself ? An apple cleft in two is not more twin Than these two creatures. Which is Sebastian? OLI. Most wonderful!

SEB. Do I stand there? I never had a brother;
Nor can there be that deity in my nature,
Of here and every where. I had a sister,
Whom the blind waves and surges have devour'd:
Of charity, what kin are you to me? [TO VIOLA.
What countryman? what name? what parentage?
VIO. Of Messaline: Sebastian was my father;
Such a Sebastian was my brother too,
So went he suited to his watery tomb:
If spirits can assume both form and suit,
You come to fright us.

SEB.
A spirit I am indeed:
But am in that dimension grossly clad,
Which from the womb I did participate.

(No interim, not a minute's vacancy,)

Both day and night did we keep company.

Or will not else thy craft so quickly grow, That thine own trip shall be thine overthrow? Farewell, and take her; but direct thy feet

walks on earth.-

But for thee, fellow. -fellow, thy words are madness:
Three months this youth hath tended upon me;
But more of that anon.-Take him aside.

Enter OLIVIA and Attendants.

VIO. My lord, I do protest,OLI.

O, do not swear!

Hold little faith, though thou hast too much fear.

Enter Sir ANDREW AGUECHEEK, with his head

broken.

I should my tears let fall upon your cheek,
And say-Thrice welcome, drowned Viola!
VIO. My father had a mole upon his brow,
SEB. And so had mine.

VIO. And died that day when Viola from her birth Had number'd thirteen years.

SEB. O, that record is lively in my soul!

He finished, indeed, his mortal act,

That day that made my sister thirteen years.
VIO. If nothing lets to make us happy both
But this my masculine usurp'd attire,
Do not embrace me, till each circumstance

OLI. What do you say, Cesario?--Good my lord,

VIO. My lord would speak; my duty hushes me. OLI. If it be aught to the old tune, my lord, It is as fat and fulsome to mine ear,

As howling after music.

DUKE.

Still so cruel?

Like to th' Egyptian thief at point of death,
Kill what I love? a savage jealousy
That sometime savours nobly.-But hear me this:
Since you to non-regardance cast my faith,
And that I partly know the instrument
That screws me from my true place in your favour,
Live you, the marble-breasted tyrant, still;
But this your minion, whom I know you love,
And whom, by heaven I swear, I tender dearly,
Him will I tear out of that cruel eye,
Where he sits crowned in his master's spite.-
Come, boy, with me; my thoughts are ripe in

mischief:

I'll sacrifice the lamb that I do love, To spite a raven's heart within a dove.

OLI. What's the matter?

SIR AND. H'as broke my head across, and has given sir Toby a bloody coxcomb too: for the love of God, your help! I had rather than forty pound I

were at home.

You drew your sword upon me without cause;
But I bespake you fair, and hurt you not.

SIR AND. If a bloody coxcomb be a hurt, you have hurt me; I think you set nothing by a bloody coxcomb. Here comes Sir Toby, halting-you shali hear more but if he had not been in drink, he would have tickled you othergates than he did.

Enter Sir TOBY BELCH, drunk, led by the Clown. DUKE. How now, gentleman! how is't with you? SIR TO. That's all one; h'as hurt me, and there's the end on 't.-Sot, did'st see Dick surgeon,

sot?

CLO. O, he's drunk, sir Toby, an hour agone; his eyes were set at eight i' the morning.

SIR TO. Then he's a rogue, after a passy-measure's pavin; I hate a drunken rogue.

OLI. Away with him! Who hath made this havoc

with them?

That I am Viola: which to confirm,
I'll bring you to a captain in this town,
Where lie my maiden weeds; by whose gentle help
I was preserv'd to serve this noble count;
All the occurrence of my fortune since
Hath been between this lady and this lord.
SEB. So comes it, lady, you have been mistook :
[To OLIVIA.
But nature to her bias drew in that.
You would have been contracted to a maid;
Nor are you therein, by my life, deceiv'd,-
You are betroth'd both to a maid and man.
DUKE. Be not amaz'd; right noble is his blood.-
If this be so, as yet the glass seems true,

I shall have share in this most happy wreck :—
Boy, thou hast said to me a thousand times,

[To VIOLA.

Thou never shouldst love woman like to me.
VIO. And all those sayings will I over-swear;
And all those swearings keep as true in soul
As doth that orbed continent, the fire
That severs day from night.

DUKE.
Give me thy hand;
And let me see thee in thy woman's weeds.
VIO. The captain that did bring me first on shore,
Hath my maid's garments: he, upon some action,
Is now in durance at Malvolio's suit,
A gentleman, and follower of my lady's.
ÖLI. He shall enlarge him:-fetch Malvolio hither:--
And yet, alas, now I remember me,
They say, poor gentleman, he 's much distract.

Re-enter Clown, with a letter, and FABIAN.
A most extracting frenzy of mine own
From my remembrance clearly banish'd his.---
How does he, sirrah?

CLO. Truly, madam, he holds Belzebub at the

stave's end, as well as a man in his case may do: h'as here writ a letter to you, I should have given 't you to-day morning; but as a madman's epistles are no gospels, so it skills not much when they are delivered. OLI. Open 't, and read it.

CLO. Look then to be well edified, when the fooi delivers the madman: [Reads.] By the Lord, madam,OLI. How now! art thou mad?

CLO. No, madam, I do but read madness: an your ladyship will have it as it ought to be, you must allow

me,

OLI. Read it you, sirrah.

FAB. [Reads.] By the Lord, madam, you wrong and the world shall know it: though you have put me into darkness, and given your drunken cousin rule over me, yet have I the benefit of my senses as well as your ladyship. I have your own letter that induced me to the semblance I put on; with the which I doubt not but to do myself much right, or you much shame. Think of me as you please. I leave my duty a little unthought of, and speak out of my injury. The madly-used MALVOLIO.

OLI. Did he write this? CLO. Ay, madam.

DUKE. This savours not much of distraction. OLI. See him deliver'd, Fabian; bring him hither. [Exit FABIAN. My lord, so please you, these things further thought

on,

To think me as well a sister as a wife,
One day shall crown the alliance on 't, so please you,
Here at my house, and at my proper cost.

DUKE. Madam, I am most apt to embrace your offer.

Your master quits you; [To VIOLA ] and, for your service done him,

So much against the mettle of your sex,

So far beneath your soft and tender breeding,
And since you call d me master for so long,-
Here is my hand; you shall from this time be
Your master's mistress.

Re-enter FABIAN, with MALVOLIO.
DUKE. Is this the madman?
OLI.
How now, Malvolio!
MAL

Ay, my lord, this same:-
Madam, you have done me wrong,

Notorious wrong.
OLI.
Have I, Malvolio? no. [letter:
MAL. Lady, you have Pray you, peruse that
You must not now deny it is your hand,-
Write from it, if you can, in hand or phrase;
Or say, 'tis not your seal, nor your invention:
You can say none of this: well, grant it then,
And tell me, in the modesty of honour,
Why you have given me such clear lights of favour;
Bade me come smiling and cross-garter'd to you;
To put on yellow stockings, and to frown
pon sir Toby and the lighter people:
And, acting this in an obedient hope,
Why have you suffer'd me to be imprison'd,
Kept in a dark house, visited by the priest,
And made the most notorious geck and gull,
That e'er invention play' cn? tell me why.
Though, I confess, much like the character:
OLI. Alas, Malvolio, this is not my writing,
But, out of question, 'tis Maria's hand.
And now I do bethink me, it was she
First told me thou wast mad; then cam'st in smiling,
And in such forms, which here were presuppos'd
Upon thee in the letter. Pr'ythee, be content:
This practice hath most shrewdly pass'd upon thee:
But when we know the grounds and authors of it,
Thou shalt be both the plaintiff and the judge
Of thine own cause.
FAB.
Good madam, hear me speak;
And let no quarrel nor no brawl to come,
Taint the condition of this present hour,
Which I have wonder'd at. In hope it shall not,
Most freely I confess, myself and Toby
Set this device against Malvolio here,
Upon some stubborn and uncourtecus parts
We had conceiv'd against him: Maria writ
The letter at sir Toby's great importance;
In recompense whereof he hath married her.
How with a sportful malice it was follow'd,
May rather pluck on laughter than revenge;
If that the injuries be justly weigh'd,

That have on both sides pass'd.

OL. Alas, poor fool! how have they baffled thee? CI. Why, some are born great. some achieve greatness, and some have grass thrown upon them. I was one, sir, in this interlude; cne sir Topas, sir; but that's all one:-By the Lord, fool, I am not mad ;but do you remember? Madam, why laugh you at such a barren rascal? an you smile not, he's gagged: and thus the whirligig of time brings in his revenges. MAL. I'll be reveng'd on the whole pack of you! [Exit.

OLI. He hath been most notoriously abus'd.
DUKE. Pursue him, and entreat him to a peace:-
He hath not told us of the captain yet;
When that is known and golden time convents,
A solemn combination shall be made

Of our dear souls-Meantime, sweet sister,
We will not part from hence.-Cesario, come;
For so you shall be, while you are a man;
But when in other habits you are seen,
Orsino's mistress, and his fancy's queen.

[Exeunt all, except the Clown.
SONG.

CLO. When that I was and a little tiny boy,
With hey, ho, the wind and the rain:
A foolish thing was but a toy,
For the rain it raineth every day.

But when I came to man's estate,

With hey, ho, the wind and the rain: 'Gainst knaves and thieves men shut their gate, For the rain it raineth every day.

But when I came, alas! to wive,

With hey, ho, the wind and the rain:
By swaggering could I never thrive,
For the rain it raineth every day.
But when I came unto my beds,
With hey, ho, the wind and the rain:
Wih toss-pots still had drunken heads,
For the rain it raineth every day.

A great while ago the world begun,
With hey, ho, the wind and the rain:
But that's all one, our play is done,

And we'll strive to please you every day.
[Exit

Enter certain Senators, and pass over.
PAIN. How this lord is follow'd!
POET. The senators of Athens:-happy men!
PAIN. Look, more!

POET. You see this confluence, this great flood of visitors.

I have, in this rough work, shap'd out a man,
Whom this beneath world doth embrace and hug
With amplest entertainment: my free drift
Halts not particularly, but moves itself
In a wide sea of wax: no levelled malice
Infects one comma in the course I hold;
But flies an eagle flight, bold, and forth on,
Leaving no track behind.

PAIN. How shall I understand you?

Whom Fortune with her ivory hand wafts to her;
Whose present grace to present slaves and servants
Translates his rivals.
'Tis conceiv'd to scope.

PAIN.

This throne, this Fortune, and this hill, methinks,
With one man beckon'd from the rest below,
Bowing his head against the steepy mount
To climb his happiness, would be well express'd
In our condition.

РОЕТ.
Nay, sir, but hear me on:
All those which were his fellows but of late,
(Some better than his value,) on the moment
Follow his strides, his lobbies fill with tendance,
Rain sacrificial whisperings in his ear,

Make sacred even his stirrup, and through him
Drink the free air,-

I'il unbolt to you.

You see how all conditions, how all minds,
(As well of glib and slippery creatures, as
Of grave and austere quality) tender down
Their services to lord Timon: his large fortune,
Upon his good and gracious nature hanging,
Subdues and properties to his love and tendance
All sorts of hearts; yea, from the glass-fac'd flatterer
To Apemantus, that few things loves better
Than to abhor himself; even he drops down
The knee before him, and returns in peace,
Most rich in Timon's nod.

PAIN.
I saw them speak together.
POET. Sir, I have upon a high and pleasant hill,
Feign'd Fortune to be thron'd: the base o' the mount
Is rank'd with all deserts, all kind of natures,
That labour on the bosom of this sphere
To propagate their states: amongst them all,
Whose eyes are on this sovereign lady fix'd,
One do I personate of lord Timon's frame,

PAIN.
Ay, marry, what of these?
POET.-When Fortune, in her shift and change of
mood,

Spurns down her late beloved, all his dependants,
Which labour'd after him to the mountain's top,
Even on their knees and hands, let him slip down,
Not one accompanying his declining foot.
PAIN. 'Tis common:

A thousand moral paintings I can show,
That shall demonstrate these quick blows of fortune's
More pregnantly than words. Yet you do well,
To show lord Timon that mean eyes have seen
The foot above the head.

Trumpets sound. Enter TIMON, attended; the Servant of VENTIDIUS talking with him. Imprison'd is he, say you? VEN SERV. Ay, my good lord: five talents is his debt;

TIM.

His means most short, his creditors most strait:

I do know him

I am not of that feather to shake off
My friend when he most needs me.
A gentleman that well deserves a help,
Which he shall have: I'll pay the debt, and free him.
VEN. SERV. Your lordship ever binds him.

TIM. Commend me to him: I will send his ransom;

And, being enfranchis'd, bid him come to me:---
'Tis not enough to help the feeble up,

But to support him after.-Fare you well.
VEN. SERV. All happiness to your honour!

Enter an old Athenian.

OLD ATH. Lord Timon, hear me speak.

TIM.

[Exit.

Freely, good father.

OLD ATH. Thou hast a servant nam'd Lucilius.

TIM. I have so: what of him?

OLD ATH. Most noble Timon, call the man before

On whom I may confer what I have got:

The maid is fair, o' the youngest for a bride,

And I have bred her at my dearest cost,

In qualities of the best. This man of thine Attempts her love: I pr'ythee, noble lord, Join with me to forbid him her resort; Myself have spoke in vain.

TIM.

The man is honest.

OLD ATH. She is young and apt:

Our own precedent passions do instruct us
What levity's in youth.

TIM. [TO LUCILIUS.] Love you the maid?
Luc. Ay, my good lord, and she accepts of it.
OLD ATH. If in her marriage my consent

missing,

I call the gods to witness, I will choose

Mine heir from forth the beggars of the world, And dispossess her all.

TIM.

be

How shall she be endow'd,

If she be mated with an equal husband?

OLD ATH. Three talents on the present; in future,

all.

TIM. This gentleman of mine hath serv'd me long; To build his fortune I will strain a little,

For 'tis a bond in men. Give him thy daughter:
What you bestow, in him I'll counterpoise,

And make him weigh with her.

OLD ATH.

Most noble lord,

Luc. Humbly I thank your lordship: never may That state or fortune fall into my keeping,

Which is not ow'd to you!

[Exeunt LUCILIUS and old Athenian. POET. Vouchsafe my labour, and long live your lordship!

TIM. I thank you; you shall hear from me anon: Go not away. What have you there, my friend? PAIN. A piece of painting, which I do beseech Your lordship to accept.

TIM.

Painting is welcome. The painting is almost the natural man; For since dishonour traffics with man's nature, He is but outside: these pencill'd figures are Even such as they give out. I like your work; And you shall find I like it: wait attendance Till you hear further from me. PAIN. The gods preserve ye! TIM. Well fare you, gentleman: give me your

hand;

We must needs dine together.-Sir, your jewel Hath suffered under praise.

if I be a dog?

TIM. Wilt dine with me, Apemantus?

APEM. No; I eat not lords.

TIM. An thou shouldst, thou'dst anger ladies.

APEM. O, they eat lords; so they come by great bellies.

TIM. That's a lascivious apprehension.

APEM. So thou apprehend'st it, take it for thy labour.

TIM. How dost thou like this jewel, Apemantus? APEM. Not so well as plain-dealing, which will not cost a man a doit.

TIM. What dost thou think 'tis worth?

APEM. Not worth my thinking.-How now, poet! POET. How now, philosopher!

APEM. Thou liest.

POET. Art not one?

I LORD. What time o' day is 't, Apemantus?
APEM. Time to be honest.

I LORD. That time serves still.

APEM. The most accursed thou, that still omitt'st it.

2 LORD. Thou art going to lord Timon's feast? APEM. Ay; to see meat fill knaves, and wine heat fools.

2 LORD. Fare thee well, fare thee well. APEM. Thou art a fool to bid me farewell twice. 2 LORD. Why, Apemantus?

APEM. Shouldst have kept one to thyself, for I mean to give thee none.

I LORD. Hang thyself!

APEM. No, I will do nothing at thy bidding: make thy requests to thy friend.

2 LORD. Away, unpeaceable dog, or I'll spurn thee hence!

APEM. I will fly, like a dog, the heels o' the ass [Exit

I LORD. He's opposite to humanity. Come, shall we in,

And taste lord Timon's bounty? he outgoes
The very heart of kindness.

He is gone happy, and has left me rich:

Then, as in grateful virtue I am bound
To your free heart, I do return those talents,
Doubled with thanks and service, from whose help
I deriv'd liberty,

TIM.

O, by no means; Honest Ventidius, you mistake my love, I gave it freely ever, and there's none Can truly say he gives, if he receives: If our betters play at that game, we must not dare To imitate them; faults that are rich are fair. VEN. A noble spirit.

[They all stand ceremoniously looking on TIMON. TIM. Nay, my lords, ceremony was but devis'd at first,

To set a gloss on faint deeds, hollow welcomes,
Recanting goodness, sorry ere 'tis shown;
But where there is true friendship, there needs none.
Pray sit, more welcome are ye to my fortunes,
Than my fortunes to me.
[They sit.

I LORD. My lord, we always have confess'd it.
APEM. Ho, ho, confess'd it! hang'd it, have you

not?

TIM. O, Apemantus!-you are welcome. APEM. No, you shall not make me welcome:

Is but his steward: no meed, but he repays
Sevenfold above itself; no gift to him,
But breeds the giver a return, exceeding
All use of quittance.

I LORD.
That ever govern'd man.

TIM. Fie, thou 'rt a churl; you've got a humour

there

Does not become a man, 'tis much to blame:-They say, my lords, ira furor brevis est,

The noblest mind he carries,

But yond' man is ever angry.
Go, let him have a table by himself;