Mal. M,-But then there is no consonancy in the sequel; that suffers under probation: A should follow, but O does. Fab. And 0 shall end, I hope. Sir To. Shall I play my freedom at tray-trip,1 and become thy bond slave? Sir And. I' faith, or I either. Sir To. Why, thou hast put him in such a Sir To. Ay, or I'll cudgel him, and make him dream, that, when the image of it leaves him, cry, O. Mal. And then I comes behind;Fab. Ay, an you had any eye behind you, you might see more detraction at your heels than fortunes before you. Go Mal. M, 0, A, I;-This simulation is not as the former :-and, yet to crush this a little, it would bow to me, for every one of these letters are in my name. Soft; here follows prose.-If this full into thy hand, revolve. In my stars I am above thee; but be not afraid of greatness: Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them. Thy fates open their hands; let thyblood and spirit embrace them. And to inure thyself to what thou art like to be, cast thy humble slough,1 and appear fresh. Be opposite with a kinsman, surly with servants: let thy tongue tang arguments of state; put thyselfinto the trick of singularity: she thus advises thee, that sighs for thee. Remember who commended thy yellow stockings; and wished to see thee ever cross-gartered: I say, remember. to; thou art made, if thou desirest to be so; if not, let me see thee a steward still, the fellow of servants, and not worthy to touch fortune's fingers. Farewell. She that would alter services with thee, The fortunate-unhappy. Daylight and champian2 discovers not more: this is open. I will be proud, I will read politick authors, I will baffle Sir Toby, I will wash off gross acquaintance, I will be point-de-vices the very man. I do not now fool myself, to let imagination jade me; for every reason excites to this, that my lady loves me. She did commend my yellow stockings of late, she did praise my leg being cross-gartered; and in this she manifests herself to my love, and, with a kind of injunction, drives me to these habits of her liking. I thank my stars, I am happy. I will be strange, stout, in yellow stockings, and crossgartered, even with the swiftness of putting on. Jove and my stars be praised!-Here is yet a postscript. Thou canst not chose but know who I am. If thou entertainest my love, let it appear in thy smiling; thy smiles become thee well: therefore in my presence still smile, dear my sweet, I pr'ythee. Jove, I thank thee.-I will smile; I will do every thing that thou wilt have me. [Exit. Fab. I will not give my part of this sport for a pension of thousands to be paid from the Sophy. Sir T. I could marry this wench for this device. Sir And. So could I too. Sir To. And ask no other dowry with her but such another jest. Enter Maria, Sir And. Nor I neither. 1 Skin. 2 Open country. 3 To utmost exactness. he must run mad. Mar. Nay, but say true; does it work upon him? Sir To. Like aquæ vitæ. Mar. If you will then see the fruits of the sport, mark his first approach before my lady: he will come to her in yellow stockings, and 'tis a colour she abhors; and cross-gartered, a fashion she detests; and he will smile upon her, which will now be so unsuitable to her disposition, being addicted to a melancholy as she is, that it cannot but turn him into a notable contempt: if you will see it, follow me. Sir To. To the gates of Tartar, thou most excellent devil of wit? Sir And. I'll make one too. Act Third. SCENE 1.-OLIVIA'S GARDEN. [Exeunt. Enter Viola, and Clown with a tabor. Vio. Save thee, friend, and thy musick: Dost thou live by thy tabor? Clo. No, sir, I live by the church. Clo. No such matter, sir; I do live by the church: for I do live at my house, and my house doth stand by the church. Vio. So thou may'st say, the king lies by a beggar, if a beggar dwell near him: or, the church stands by thy tabor, if thy tabor stand by the church. Clo. You have said, sir.-To see this age!A sentence is but a cheveril 2 glove to a good wit; How quickly the wrong side may be turned outward Vio. I warrant thou art a merry fellow, and carest for nothing. Clo. Not so, sir, I do care for something: but in my conscience, sir, I do not care for you; if that be to care for nothing, sir, I would it would make you invisible. Vio. Art not thou the lady Olivia's fool? Clo. No, indeed, sir; the lady Olivia has no folly: she will keep no fool, sir, till she be married; and fools are as like husbands as pilchards are to herrings, the husband's the bigger: I am, indeed, not her fool, but her corrupter of words. Vio. I saw thee late at the Count Orsino's. Clo. Foolery, sir, does walk about the orb, like the sun; it shines every where. I would be sorry, sir, but the fool should be as oft with your master, as with my mistress: I think, I saw your wisdom there. Vio. Nay, an thou pass upon me, I'll no more with thee. Hold, there's expences for thee. Is thy lady within? Clo. My lady is within, sir. I will construe to her whence you come; who you are, and what 1 A boy's diversion ? Kid. you would, are out of my welkin: I might say, Sir To. Save you, gentlemen, Sir And. Dieu vous garde, monsieur. Sir And. I hope, sir, you are; and I am yours. Sir To. Will you encounter the house? my niece is desirous you should enter, if your trade be to her. Vio. I am bound to your niece, sir; I mean, she is the list of my voyage. Sir To. Taste your legs, sir, put them to motion. Vio. My legs do better understand me, sir, than I understand what you mean by bidding me taste my legs. Sir To. I mean, to go, sir, to enter. Vio. I will answer you with gait and entrance: But we are prevented. Enter Olivia and Maria, Most excellent accomplished lady, the heavens rain odours on you! Sir And. That youth's a rare courtier! Rain odours! well. Vio. My matter bath no voice, lady, but to your own most pregnant 5 and vouchsafed ear. Sir A. Odours, pregnant, and vouchsafed:I'll get 'em all three ready. Oli. Let the garden door be shut, and leave me to my hearing. [Exeunt Sir Toby, Sir Andrew, and Maria. Give me your hand, sir. Vio. My duty, madam, and most humble service. Oli. What is your name? [princess. Vio, Cesario is your servant's name, fair 0. My servant, sir! "Twas never merry world, Since lowly feigning was called compliment: You are servant to the Count Orsino, youth. V.And he is yours, and his must needs be yours: Your servant's servant is your servant, madam. Oli. For him, I think not on him: for his thoughts, [me! 'Would they were blanks, rather than fill'd with Vio. Madam, I come to whet your gentle On his behalf: (thoughts Oli. O, by your leave, I pray you; I bade you never speak again of him: But, would you undertake another suit, I had rather hear you to solicit that, Than musick from the spheres. Dear lady, Vio. 0. Give me leave, I beseech you: I did send, After the last enchantment you did here, A ring in chase of you: so did I abuse Have you not set mine honour at the stake Enough is shown; a cyprus, not a bosom, Oli. That's a degree to love. Oli. Why, then, methinks, 'tis time to smile If one should be a prey, how much the better O, world, how apt the poor are to be proud! To fall before the lion, than the wolf? (Clock strikes. Be not afraid, good youth, I will not have you: The clock upbraids me with the waste of time,Your wife is like to reap a proper man: [vest, And yet, when wit and youth is come to harThere lies your way, due west. Vio. Then westward-hoe: [ship! Grace, and good disposition 'tend your ladyYou'll nothing, madam, to my lord by me? Oli. Stay: I pr'ythee, tell me, what thou think'st of me. V. That you do think, you are notwhat you are. Oli. If I think so, I think the same of you. V. Then think you right; I am not what I am. 0. I would you were as I would have you be ! Vio. Would it be better, madam, than I am, I wish it might; for now I am your fool. Oli. O, what a deal of scorn looks beautiful In the contempt and anger of his lip! A murd'rous guilt shows not itself more soon Than love that would seem hid: love's night is noon. Cesario by the roses of the spring, By maidhood, honour, truth, and every thing, V. By innocence I swear, and by my youth, SCENE II.-A ROOM IN OLIVIA'S HOUSE. Enter Sir Toby Belch, Sir Andrew Ague-cheek, and Fabian. Sir A. No, faith, I'll not stay a jot longer. Sir To. Thy reason, dear venom, give thy Fab. You must needs yield your reason, Sir Andrew. Sir And. Marry, I saw your niece do more favours to the count's serving man, than ever she bestowed upon me: I saw't i' the orchard. Sir To. Did she see thee the while, old boy? tell me that. Sir And. As plain as I see you now. Fab. This was a great argument of love in her toward you. Sir A. 'Slight! will you make an ass o' me? Fab. I will prove it legitimate, sir, upon the oaths of judgment and reason. Sir To. And they have been grand jury-men, since before Noah was a sailor. Fab. She did show favour to the youth in your sight, only to exasperate you, to awake your dormouse valour, to put fire in your heart, and brimstone in your liver: You should then have accosted her; and with some excellent jests, fire-new from the mint, you should have banged the youth into dumbness. This was looked for at your hand, and this was baulked: the double gilt of this opportunity you let time wash off, and you are now sailed into the north of my lady's opinion; where you will hang like an icicle on a Dutchman's beard, unless you do redeem it by some laudable attempt, either of valour or policy. Sir And. And't be any way, it must be with valour; for policy I hate: I had as lief1 be a Brownist,2 as a politician. Fab. And his opposite, the youth, bears in his visage no great presage of cruelty. Enter Maria. Sir To. Look, where the youngest wren of nine comes. Mar. If you desire the spleen, and will laugh yourselves into stitches, follow me; yon' gull Malvolio is in yellow stockings. Sir. To. And cross-gartered? Mar. Most villainously; like a pedant that keeps a school i' the church.-I have dogged him, like his murderer: He does obey every point of He the letter that I dropped to betray him. does smile his face into more lines than are in the new map, with the augmentation of the SCENE III.-A STREET. Enter Antonio and Sebastian. S. I would not, by my will, have troubled you, But, since you make your pleasure of your pains, will no further chide you. I Ant. I could not stay behind you; my desire, More sharp than filed steel, did spur me forth: And not all love to see you (though so much, As might have drawn one to a longer voyage), Sir To. Why then, build me thy fortunes But jealousy what might befall your travel, upon the basis of valour. Challenge me the Being skilless in these parts; which to a stranger, count's youth to fight with him; hurt him in Unguided and unfriended, often prove eleven places; my niece shall take note of it: Rough and unhospitable: My willing love, and assure thyself, there is no love-broker in The rather by these arguments of fear, the world can more prevail in man's com- Set forth in your pursuit. mendation with woman, than report of valour. Seb. My kind Antonio, Fab. There is no way but this, Sir Andrew. I can no other answer make, but, thanks, Sir And. Will either of you bear me a chal-And thanks, and ever thanks: Often good turns lenge to him? Sir To. Go, write it in a martial hand; be curst and brief; it is no matter how witty, so it be eloquent, and full of invention: taunt him with the licence of ink: if thou thou'st him some thrice, it shall not be amiss; and as many lies as will lie in thy sheet of paper, although the sheet were big enough for the bed of Ware in England, set 'em down; go, about it. Let there be gall enough in thy ink: though thou write with a goose pen, no matter: About it. Sir And. Where shall I find you? Sir To. We'll call thee at the cubiculo:5 Go. [Exit Sir Andrew. Fab. This is a dear manakin to you, Sir Toby. Sir To. I have been dear to him, lad; some two thousand strong, or so Fab. We shall have a rare letter from him: but you'll not deliver it? Sir To. Never trust me then; and by all means 1 As willingly. Are shuffled off with such uncurrent pay: Ant. To-morrow, sir; best, first, go see your Seb. I am not weary, and 'tis long to-night; Ant. S. Belike, you slew great number of his people. Most of our city did: only myself stood out; 1 Caught. SCENE IV.-OLIVIA'S GARDEN Enter Olivia and Maria. O. I have sent after him: He says, he'll come; Mar. He's coming, madam; Oli. Go call him hither. I'm as mad as he, Mal. If not, let me see thee a servant still. Serv. Madam, the young gentlemen of the Count Orsino's is returned; could hardly entreat him back: he attends your ladyship's pleasure. Oli. I'll come to him. [Exit Servant.] Good Maria, let this fellow be looked to. Where's my cousin Toby? Let some of my people have a special care of him; I would not have him miscarry for the half of my dowry. [Exeunt Olivia and Maria. Mal. Oh, ho! do you come near me now? no worse man than Sir Toby to look to me? This concurs directly with the letter: she sends him on purpose that I may appear stubborn to him; for she incites me to that in the letter. Cast thy humble slough, says she: be opposite with a kinsman, surly with servants,-let thy tongue tang with arguments of state,-put thyself into the trick of singularity; and, consequently, sets down the manner how; as, a sad face, a reverend carriage, a slow tongue, in the habit of some sir of note, and so forth. I have limed her; but it is Jove's doing, and Jove make me thankful! And, when she went away now, Let this fellow be looked to: Fellow! not Malvolio, nor after my degree, but fellow. Why, every thing adheres together; that no dram of a scruple, no Mal. Sad, lady? I could be sad: This does scruple of a scruple, no obstacle, no incredulous make some obstruction in the blood, this cross-or unsafe circumstance,-What can be said? gartering: But what of that, if it please the eye of one, it is with me as the very true sonnet is: Please one, and please all. How now, Malvolio? Mal. Sweet lady, ho, ho. [Smiles fantastically. I sent for thee upon a sad1 occasion. Oli. Why, how dost thou, man? what is the matter with thee? Mal. Not black in my mind, though yellow in my legs: it did come to his hands, and commands shall be executed. I think, we do know the sweet Roman hand. Oli, Wilt thou go to bed, Malvolio? Nothing, that can be, can come between me and Re-enter Maria, with Sir Toby Belch, and Sir To. Which way is he, in the name of sanctity? I'll speak to him. Fab. Here he is, here he is:-How is't with you, sir? how is't with you, man? Mal. Go off; I discard you, let me enjoy my Oli. Heaven comfort thee! Why dost thou private; go off. smile so, and kiss thy hand so oft? Mar. How do you, Malvolio? Mal. At your request? Yes; Nightingales answer daws. Mar. Why appear you with this ridiculous boldness before my lady? [writ. Mal. Be not afraid of greatness: "Twas well Oli. What meanest thou by that, Malvolio? Mal. Some are born great,Oli. Ha! 1 Grave. Mar. Lo, how hollow the fiend speaks within him! did not I tell you?-Sir Toby, my lady prays you to have a care of him. Mal. Ah, ha! does she so? Sir To. Go to, go to; peace, peace, we must deal gently with him; let me alone. How do you, Malvolio? how is't with you? What, man! defy the devil: consider he's an enemy to mankind. Mal. Do you know what you say? Mar. La you, an you speak ill of the devil, 1 Companion how he takes it at heart! Pray heaven, he be not bewitched! My lady would not lose him for more than I'll say. Sir To. Pr'ythee, hold thy peace: this is not the way: Do you not see, you move him? let me alone with him. Fab. No way but gentleness; gently, gently: the fiend is rough, and will not be roughly used. Sir To. Why how now, my bawcock? how dost thou, chuck? Mal. Sir? Sir To. Ay, Biddy, come with me. What, man! 'tis not for gravity to play at cherry-pit2 with Satan; Hang him, foul collier! Mal. Go hang yourselves all! you are idle shallow things: I am not of your element; you shall know more hereafter. [Exit. Sir To. Is't possible? Fab. If this were played upon a stage now, I could condemn it as an improbable fiction. Sir To. His very genius hath taken the infection of the device, man. Mar. Nay, pursue him now; lest the device take air, and taint. Fab. Why, we shall make him mad, indeed. Sir To. Come, we'll have him in a dark room, and bound. My niece is already in the belief that he is mad; we may carry it thus, for our pleasure, and his penance, till our very pastime, tired out of breath, prompt us to have mercy on him at which time, we will bring the device to the bar, and crown thee for a finder of madmen. But see, but see. Enter Sir Andrew Ague-cheek. Fab. More matter for a May morning. Sir To. If this letter move him not, his legs cannot: I'll giv't him. Mar. You may have very fit occasion for't; he is now in some commerce with my lady, and will by and by depart Sir To. Go, Sir Andrew; scout me for him at the corner of the orchard, like a bailiff: so soon as ever thou seest him, draw; and, as thou drawest, swear horrible; for it comes to pass oft, that a terrible oath, with a swaggering accent sharply twanged off, gives manhood more approbation than ever proof itself would have earned him. Away. Sir And. Nay, let me alone for swearing. [Exit. Sir To. Now will not I deliver his letter: for the behaviour of the young gentleman gives him out to be of good capacity and breeding; his employment between his lord and my niece confirms no less; therefore this letter, being so excellently ignorant, will breed no terror in the youth; he will find it comes from a clodpole. But, sir, I will deliver his challenge by word of mouth; set upon Ague-cheek a notable_report of valour; and drive the gentleman (as, I know his youth will aptly receive it) into a most hideous opinion of his rage, skill, fury, and impetuosity. This will so frighten them both, that they will kill one another by the look, like cockatrices. Enter Olivia and Viola. Fub. Here he comes with your niece: give them way, till he take leave, and presently after him. Sir To. I will meditate the while upon some horrid message for a challenge. [Exeunt Sir Toby, Fabian, and Maria. Oli. I have said too much unto a heart of stone, Sir And. Here's the challenge, read it; I And laid mine honour too unchary out: warrant, there's vinegar and pepper in't. Fab. Is't so sawcy? There's something in me, that reproves my fault, Sir And. Ay is it, I warrant him; do but That it but mocks reproof. read. Vio. With the same 'haviour that your passion Sir To. Give me. [Reads.] Youth, whatso-Go on my master's griefs. ever thou art, thou art but a scurvy fellow. Fab. Good and valiant. Sir To. Wonder not, nor admire not in thy mind, why I do call thee so, for I will show thee no reason for't. Fab. A good note: that keeps you from the blow of the law. Sir To. Thou comest to the lady Olivia, and in my sight she uses thee kindly: but thou liest in thy throat, that is not the matter I challenge thee for. F. Very brief, and exceeding good sense-less. Sir To. I will way-lay thee going home; where if it be thy chance to kill me, Fab. Good. Sir To. Thou killest me like a rogue and a villain. Fab. Still you keep o' the windy side of the law: Good. [bears, 0. Here, wear this jewel for me, 'tis my picture; Vio. Nothing but this, your true love for my Oli. How with mine honour may I give him Re-enter Sir Toby Belch and Fabian. Sir To. That defence thou hast, betake thee to't: of what nature the wrongs are thou hast done him, I know not; but thy intercepter, full Sir To. Fare thee well: And God have mercy of despight, bloody as the hunter, attends thee upon one of our souls! He may have mercy upon at the orchard end: dismount thy tuck,1 be mine; but my hope is better, and so look to thy-yare2 in thy preparation, for thy assailant is self. Thy friend, as thou usest him, and thy sworn enemy. 1 Beau-cock. Andrew Ague-cheek. 2 A boy's play. quick, skilful, and deadly. Vio. You mistake, sir; I am sure, no man * Ready. 1 Rapier |