OLI. Still so constant, lord.

DUKE. What, to perverseness? you uncivil lady, To whose ingrate and unauspicious altars My soul the faithfull'st offerings hath breath'd out, That e'er devotion tender'd! What shall I do?

OLI. Even what it please my lord, that shall become him.

DUKE. Why should I not, had I the heart to
do it,

Like to th' Egyptian thief at point of death,
Kill what I love? (1) 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:

[Following.

After him I love

OLI. Where goes Cesario? VIO. 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!

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: (2)
And all the ceremony of this compact
Seal'd in my function, by my testimony:
Since when, my watch hath told me, toward my
grave

I have travell'd but two hours.

DUKE. O, thou dissembling cub! what wilt thou be,

When time hath sow'd a grizzle on thy case?
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
Where thou and I henceforth may never meet.
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.

SIR AND. For the love of God, a surgeon ! send one presently to sir Toby.

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.

OLI. Who has done this, sir Andrew?

SIR AND. The count's gentleman, one Cesario: we took him for a coward, but he's the very devil incardinate.

DUKE. My gentleman, Cesario?

SIR AND. 'Od's lifelings, here he is!-You broke my head for nothing; and that that I did, I was set on to do 't by sir Toby.

VIO. Why do you speak to me? I never hurt you:

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 shall 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?

O, welcome, father! Father, I charge thee, by thy reverence, Here to unfold (though lately we intended To keep in darkness, what occasion now

VOL. II.

a Case.] An old term, not altogether disused, for skin.

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?

SIR AND. I'll help you, sir Toby, because we'll be dressed together.

SIR TO. Will you help?-an ass-head and a coxcomb and a knave!-a thin-faced knave, a gull ! OLI. Get him to bed, and let his hurt be looked to.

[Exeunt Clown, FABIAN, Sir TOBY, and Sir ANDREW.

Enter SEBASTIAN.

SEB. I am sorry, madam, I have hurt your kinsman;

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.

After a passy-measure's pavin;] The first folio reads, "and a passy measures panyn." In a MS. list of old dances, Mr. Collier

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?
Vro. 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.

has found one dance called "The passinge measure Pavyon." b Perspective,-] See note (4), p. 498, Vol. I.

Were you a woman, as the rest goes even,
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.

Vro. 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
Of place, time, fortune, do cohere and jump,
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

a

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.

OLI. He shall enlarge him:-fetch Malvolio hither:

And yet, alas, now I remember me,
They say, poor gentleman, he's much distract.

a

Where lie my maiden weeds; by whose gentle help

I was preserv'd to serve this noble count;]

To correct the prosody of the first line, Theobald reads, "my maid's weeds; " perhaps the object is attained more effectually by adding than subtracting a syllable :

"Where lie my maiden weeds; he by whose gentle help," &c. His alteration of preferr'd for preserv'd in the second line is, however, an undeniable improvement, and is almost verified by the passage in Act I. Sc. 2, where Viola tells the captain she is here speaking of,

b

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 fool 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 vox.

OLI. Pr'ythee, read i' thy right wits.

CLO. So I do, madonna; but to read his right wits is to read thus: therefore perpend, my princess, and give ear.

OLI. Read it you, sirrah.

[To FABIAN.

FAB. [Reads.] By the Lord, madam, you wrong me, 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.

Madam, you have done me wrong,

MAL. 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 Upon 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'd on? tell me why.

OLI. Alas, Malvolio, this is not my writing, Though, I confess, much like the character: But, out of question, 'tis Maria's hand. And now I do bethink me, it was she [smiling, First told me thou wast mad; then cam'st in 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 uncourteous parts We had conceiv'd against him: Maria writ The letter at sir Toby's great importance ;b In recompense whereof he hath married her.

a Then cam'st in smiling,-] Thou must be understood after cam'st, "then cam'st thou in smiling," &c.

b Importance;] That is, importunity.

c Some have greatness thrown upon them.] "Query," Mr. Dyce asks, "is thrown, instead of thrust,' an oversight of the author, or an error of the scribe or printer?" We believe it to be neither one nor the other, but a purposed variation common to

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.

OLI. Alas, poor fool! how have they baffled thee! CLO. Why, some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrown upon them. I was one, sir, in this interlude; one 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,(3) 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 :
With 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.

Shakespeare in cases of repetition, possibly from his knowing, by professional experience, the difficulty of quoting with perfect accuracy. Thrown occurs with precisely the same sense in Wilkins' tract of " Pericles, Prince of Tyre:"-" If the eminence of your place came unto you by descent, and the royalty of your blood, let not your life prove your birth a bastard: if it were thrown upon you by opinion, make good that opinion," &c.

(1) SCENE III.-He plays o' the viol-de-gamboys.] Mr. Gifford observes (BEN JONSON's Works, II. 125), that a viol-de-gambo (a bass viol, as Jonson also calls it) was an indispensable piece of furniture in every fashionable house, where it hung up in the best chamber, much as the guitar does in Spain, and the violin in Italy, to be played on at will, and to fill up the void of conversation. Whoever pretended to fashion, affected an acquaintance with this instrument." The allusions to it are frequent in our old dramas: thus, in the Induction to Marston's "Malcontent," 1604:

My life upon it, that a boy of twelve

Should scourge him hither like a parish-top,
And make him dance before you."

So also in Taylor, the Water Poet's "Jacke-a-Lent," p. 117, ed. 1630:

"Were it not for these Netmongers, it is no flat lye to say, the Flounder might lye flat in his watry Cabin, and the Eele (whose slippery taile put mee in mind of a formall Courtiers promise) would wriggle up and downe in his muddy habitation, which would bee a great discommodity for schoole-boyes, through the want of scourges to whip Gigs and Towne-Tops."

(3) SCENE III.-The buttery-bar.] This was a favourite locality in the palaces of royalty, and in the houses of the opulent. Mr. Halliwell has furnished an engraving of one still preserved at Christ Church College, Oxford; and he remarks that "this relic of ancient customs is still found in most of our ancient colleges. Furst every mornyng at brekefast oon chyne of beyf at our kechyn, oon chete loff and oon maunchet at our panatry barre, and a galon of ale at our buttrye barre; Item, at dyner, a pese of beyfe, a stroke of roste, and a reward at our said kechyn, a cast of chete bred at our panatry barre, and a galon of ale at our buttry barre.'-MS. dated 1522.”

(4) SCENE III.-Mistress Mall's picture.] The picture in question is supposed to be a portrait of one Mary Frith, commonly known as Mall Cut-purse, an Amazonian bona roba, to whom allusions innumerable are made by the dramatic and satirical writers of the period. She is

said to have been born in Barbican, and to have attained to such disreputable celebrity, that about 1610 a book was published, entitled "The Madde Prancks of mery Mall of the Banckside, with her walkes in man's apparell and to what purpose, written by John Day." In the following year she was made the heroine of a comedy by Middleton and Decker, called "The Roaring Girle, or Moll Cutpurse, as it hath lately beene Acted on the Fortune-stage by the Princo his Players," on the title-page of which she is represented in her male habiliments, and smoking tobacco. About the same time she did penance at St. Paul's Cross, of which ceremony the following account is preserved in a letter from John Chamberlain to Sir Dudley Carleton, dated February 12, 1611-12:-"This last Sunday Moll Cutpurse, a notorious baggage that used to go in man's apparel, and challenged the field of diverse gallants, was brought to the same place, where she wept bitterly, and seemed very penitent; but it is since doubted she was maudlin drunk, being discovered to have tippel'd of three quarts of sack before she came to her penance." She died in 1659, and is stated to have left twenty pounds by her will for the Fleet-street conduit to run with wine when King Charles the Second returned, which happened soon after.

(5) SCENE V.-Clown.] Clown, in our old plays, was the generical term for the buffone, or low-comedy character of the piece. Sometimes this merry-man was a mere country bumpkin, like the old shepherd's son in "The Winter's Tale;" or a shrewd rustic, like Costard in "Love's Labour's Lost;" or a witty retainer, such as Launce in "The Two Gentlemen of Verona ;" and Launcelot in "The Merchant of Venice;" sometimes he was an "allowed," or hired domestic jester, like Touchstone in "As You Like it," Lavatch in "All's Well that Ends Well," and the fool in the present comedy. For a description of the sort of amusement the domestic fools were expected to afford their employers, see note (2), p. 54.

(6) SCENE V.-He says, he'll stand at your door like a sheriff's post.] The doors of Mayors' and Sheriffs' houses were furnished with ornamented posts, on which were set up the royal and civic proclamations. It appears to have been the custom to repaint the posts whenever a new election of these officials took place: thus in "Lingua:" "Knowes he how to become a scarlet gowne? hath he a paire of fresh posts at his doore?" And again in " Skialetheia, or a Shadowe of Truth," 1598:

"Or like a new sherifes gate-posts, whose old faces
Are furbished over to smoothe time's disgraces."

A pair of Mayors' posts are still standing in Norwich, which, from the initials T. P. and the date 159. ., are conjectured to have belonged to Thomas Pettys, who was Mayor of that city in 1592.