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I thank thee: wait on me home, I'll make sport | All yet seems well; and if it end so meet, with thee:

Let thy courtesies alone, they are scurvy ones.
King. Let us from point to point this story
know,

To make the even truth in pleasure flow.
[To Diana] If thou be'st yet a fresh uncropped
flower,

Choose thou thy husband, and I'll pay thy dower,
For I can guess that by thy honest aid
Thou kep'st a wife herself, thyself a maid. 330
Of that and all the progress, more or less,
Resolvedly more leisure shall express:

The bitter past, more welcome is the sweet.
[Flourish.

EPILOGUE.

King. 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. 340

OR, WHAT YOU WILL.

ORSINO, Duke of Illyria.

SEBASTIAN, brother to Viola.

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.

ANTONIO, a sea captain, friend to Sebas

tian.

A Sea Captain, friend to Viola.
VALENTINE, gentlemen attending on the
CURIO,
Duke

SIR TOBY BELCH, uncle to Olivia.
SIR ANDREW AGUECHEEK.

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MARIA, Olivia's woman.

Lords, Priests, Sailors, Officers, Musicians, and other Attendants.

SCENE-A city in Illyria, and the sea-coast near it.

ACT I.

SCENE I. The DUKE's palace.

Enter DUKE, CURIO, and other 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 again! it had a dying fall: O, it came o'er my ear like the sweet sound, That breathes upon a bank of violets,

Stealing and giving odor! Enough; no more: 'Tis not so sweet now as it was before.

10

O spirit of love! how quick and fresh art thou,
That, notwithstanding thy capacity
Receiveth as the sea, nought enters there,
Of what validity and pitch soe'er,
But falls into abatement and low price,
Even in a minute; so full of shapes is fancy,
That it alone is high fantastical.

Cur. Will you go hunt, my lord?
Duke.

Cur. The hart.

What, Curio?

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How now, what news from her? Val. So please my lord, I might not be admitted;

But from her handmaid to 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 30
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

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

He was a bachelor then.

Cap. And so is now, or was so very late: 30 For but a month ago I went from hence, And then 'twas fresh in murmur,-as, you know What great ones do the less will prattle of,That he did seek the love of fair Ölivia.

Vio. What's she?

count

40

Cap. A virtuous maid, the daughter of a [ing her That died some twelvemonth since, then leavIn the protection of his son, her brother, Who shortly also died for whose dear love, They say, she hath abjured the company And sight of men. Vio. O that I served that lady And might not be delivered to the world, Till I had made mine own occasion mellow, What my estate is. Сар. That were hard to compass; Because she will admit no kind of suit, No, not the duke's.

Vio. There is a fair behavior in thee, captain; And though that nature with a beauteous wall Doth oft close in pollution, yet of thee

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50 Toby Belch!

I will believe thou hast a mind that suits
With this thy fair and outward character.
I prithee, and I'll
pay thee bounteously,
Conceal 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 shall present me as an 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 I'll
be:
[see.
When my tongue blabs, then let mine eyes not
Vio. I thank thee: lead me on. [Exeunt.

60

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Sir To. Confine! I'll confine myself no finer than I am: these clothes are good enough to drink in; and so be these boots too: an they be not, let them hang themselves in their own straps. Mar. That quaffing and drinking will undo you: I heard my lady talk of it yesterday; and of a foolish knight that you brought in one night here to be her wooer.

Sir To. Who, Sir Andrew Aguecheek?
Mar. Ay, he.

Sir To. He's as tall a man as any's in Illyria.
Mar. What's that to the purpose?

21

Sir To. Why, he has three thousand ducats

a year.

Sir To. Sweet Sir Andrew!

Sir And. Bless you, fair shrew.

Mar. And you too, sir.

Sir To. Accost, Sir Andrew, accost.

Sir And. What's that?

Sir To. My niece's chambermaid.

50

Sir And. Good Mistress Accost, I desire better acquaintance.

Mar. My name is Mary, sir.

Sir And. Good Mistress Mary Accost,-Sir To. You mistake, knight: 'accost' is front her, board her, woo her, assail her.

60

Sir And. By my troth, I would not undertake her in this company. Is that the meaning of accost?'

Mar. Fare you well, gentlemen.

Sir To. An thou let part so, Sir Andrew, would thou mightst never draw sword again.

Sir And. An you part so, mistress, I would I might never draw sword again. Fair lady, do you think you have fools in hand? Mar. Sir, I have not you by the hand. Sir And. Marry, but you shall have; and here's my hand.

70

Mar. Now, sir, thought is free:' I pray you, bring your hand to the buttery-bar and let it drink. [metaphor?

Sir And. Wherefore, sweetheart? what's your Mar. It's dry, sir.

Sir And. Why, I think so: I am not such an ass but I can keep my hand dry. But what's your jest?

Mar. A dry jest, sir.

80

Sir And. Are you full of them? Mar. Ay, sir, I have them at my fingers' ends: marry, now I let go your hand, I am barren. [Exit.

Sir To. O knight, thou lackest a cup of canary: when did I see thee so put down?

Sir And. Never in your life, I think: unless you see canary put me down. Methinks sometimes I have no more wit than a Christian or an

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Sir And. Why, would that have mended my hair?

Sir To. Past question; for thou seest it will not curl by nature.

Sir And. But it becomes me well enough, does't not?

Sir To. Excellent; it hangs like flax on a distaff; and I hope to see a housewife take thee between her legs and spin it off.

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Sir And Faith, I'll home to-morrow, Sir Toby: your niece will not be seen; or if she be, it's four to one she'll none of me: the count himself here hard by woos her.

Sir To. She'll none of the count: she'll not match above her degree, neither in estate, years, nor wit; I have heard her swear't. Tut, there's life in't, man.

Sir And. I'll stay a month longer. I am a fellow o' the strangest mindi' the world; I delight in masques and revels sometimes altogether. 121 Sir To. Art thou good at these kickshawses, knight?

Sir And. As any man in Illyria, whatsoever he be, under the degree of my betters; and yet I will not compare with an old man.

Sir To. What is thy excellence in a galliard, knight?

130

Sir And Faith, I can cut a caper. Sir To. And I can cut the mutton to't. Sir And. And I think I have the back-trick simply as strong as any man in Illyria.

Sir To. Wherefore are these things hid? wherefore have these gifts a curtain before 'em? are they like to take dust, like Mistress Mall's picture? why dost thou not go to church in a galliard and come home in a coranto? My very walk should be a jig; I would not so much as make water but in a sink-a-pace. What dost thou mean? Is it a world to hide virtues in? I did think, by the excellent constitution of thy leg, it was formed under the star of a galliard. Sir And. Ay, 'tis strong, and it does indifferent well in a flame-colored stock. Shall we set about some revels?

Sir To. What shall we do else? were we not born under Taurus?

Sir And. Taurus! That's sides and heart. Sir To. No, sir; it is legs and thighs. Let me see thee caper: ha! higher: ha, ha! excellent! [Exeunt. 151

SCENE IV. The DUKE's palace. Enter VALENTINE, and VIOLA in man's attire.

Val. If the duke continue these favors towards you, Cesario, you are like to be much ad

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Duke. O, then unfold the passion of my love, Surprise her with discourse of my dear faith: It shall become thee well to act my woes; She will attend it better in thy youth Than in a nuncio's of more grave aspect. Vio. I think not so, my lord. Duke.

30

Dear lad, believe it;
For they shall yet belie thy happy years,
That say thou art a man: Diana's lip
Is not more smooth and rubious; thy small pipe
Is as the maiden's organ, shrill and sound,"
And all is semblative a woman's part.

I know thy constellation is right apt
For this affair. Some four or five attend him;
All, if you will; for I myself am best
When least in company. Prosper well in this,
And thou shalt live as freely as thy lord,
To call his fortunes thine.
Vio.
I'll do my best
To woo your lady: [Aside] yet, a barful strife!
Whoe'er I woo, myself would be his wife.

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40

[Exeunt.

Mar. Nay, either tell me where thou hast been, or I will not open my lips so wide as a bristle may enter in way of thy excuse: my lady will hang thee for thy absence.

Clo. Let her hang me: he that is well hanged in this world needs to fear no colors. Mar. Make that good.

Clo. He shall see none to fear. Mar. A good lenten answer: I can tell thee where that saying was born, of 'I fear no colors.' Clo. Where, good Mistress Mary?

II

Mar. In the wars; and that may you be bold to say in your foolery.

Clo. Well, God give them wisdom that have it; and those that are fools, let them use their talents.

Mar. Yet you will be hanged for being so

long absent; or, to be turned away, is not that as good as a hanging to you? 19 Clo. Many a good hanging prevents a bad marriage; and, for turning away, let summer bear it out.

Mar. You are resolute, then?, Clo. Not so, neither; but I am resolved on two points.

Mar. That if one break, the other will hold; or, if both break, your gaskins fall.

Clo. Apt, in good faith; very apt. Well, go thy way; if Sir Toby would leave drinking, thou wert as witty a piece of Eve's flesh as any in Illyria. 31 Mar. Peace, you rogue, no more o' that. Here comes my lady: make your excuse wisely, you were best. [Exit. Clo. Wit, an't be thy will, put me into good fooling! Those wits, that think they have thee, do very oft prove fools; and I, that am sure I lack thee, may pass for a wise man for what says Quinapalus? Better a witty fool than a foolish wit.'

Enter Lady OLIVIA with MALVOLIO. God bless thee, lady!

Oli. Take the fool away.

40

Clo. Do you not hear, fellows? Take away the lady.

Oli. Go to, you're a dry fool; I'll no more of you: besides, you grow dishonest.

Clo. Two faults, madonna, that drink and good counsel will amend: for give the dry fool drink, then is the fool not dry: bid the dishonest man mend himself; if he mend, he is no longer dishonest; if he cannot, let the botcher mend him. Any thing that's mended is but patched: virtue that transgresses is but patched with sin; and sin that amends is but patched with virtue. If that this simple syllogism will serve, so; if it will not, what remedy? As there is no true cuckold but calamity, so beauty's a flower. The lady bade take away the fool; therefore, I say again, take her away.

60

Oli. Sir, I bade them take away you. Clo. Misprision in the highest degree! Lady, cucullus non facit monachum; that's as much as to say I wear not motley in my brain. Good madonna, give me leave to prove you a fool. Oli. Can you do it?

Clo. Dexteriously, good madonna.
Oli. Make your proof.

Clo. I must catechise you for it, madonna: good my mouse of virtue, answer me.

Oli. Well, sir, for want of other idleness, I'll bide your proof.

71

Clo. Good madonna, why mournest thou? Oli. Good fool, for my brother's death. Clo. I think his soul is in hell, madonna. Oli. I know his soul is in heaven, fool. Clo. The more fool, madonna, to mourn for your brother's soul being in heaven. Take away the fool, gentlemen.

Oli. What think you of this fool, Malvolio? doth he not mend?

80

Mal. Yes, and shall do till the pangs of death shake him: infirmity, that decays the wise, doth ever make the better fool.

Clo. God send you, sir, a speedy infirmity, for

the better increasing your folly! Sir Toby will be sworn that I am no fox; but he will not pass his word for twopence that you are no fool.

Oli. How say you to that, Malvolio? Mal. I marvel your ladyship takes delight in such a barren rascal: I saw him put down the other day with an ordinary fool that has no more brain than a stone. Look you now, he's out of his guard already; unless you laugh and minister occasion to him, he is gagged. I protest, I take these wise men, that crow so at these set kind of fools, no better than the fools' zanies.

Oli. O, you are sick of self-love, Malvolio, and taste with a distempered appetite. To be generous, guiltless, and of free disposition, is to take those things for bird-bolts that you deem cannon-bullets: there is no slander in an allowed fool, though he do nothing but rail; nor no railing in a known discreet man, though he do nothing but reprove.

Clo. Now Mercury endue thee with leasing, for thou speakest well of fools!

Re-enter MARIA.

Mar. Madam, there is at the gate a young gentleman much desires to speak with you. Oli. From the Count Orsino, is it? Mar, I know not, madam: 'tis a fair young man, and well attended.

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Oli. Who of my people hold him in delay ? Mar. Sir Toby, madam, your kinsman.

Oli. Fetch him off, I pray you; he speaks nothing but madman: fie on him! [Exit Maria.] Go you, Malvolio: if it be a suit from the count, I am sick, or not at home; what you will, to dismiss it. [Exit Malvolio.] Now you see, sir, how your fooling grows old, and people dislike it.

Cle. Thou hast spoke for us, madonna. as if thy eldest son should be a fool; whose skull Jove cram with brains! for,-here he comes,-one of thy kin has a most weak pia mater.

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Sir To. Lechery! I defy lechery. There's one at the gate.

Oli. Ay, marry, what is he?

Sir To. Let him be the devil, an he will, I care not: give me faith, say I. Well, it's all one. [Exit.

Oli. What's a drunken man like, fool? Clo. Like a drowned man, a fool and a mad man: one draught above heat makes him a fool; the second mads him; and a third drowns him.

Ol. Go thou and seek the crowner, and let him sit o' my coz; for he's in the third degree of drink, he's drowned: go, look after him.

Clo. He is but mad yet, madonna; and the fool shall look to the madman. [Exit.

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