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Crums:

Mr.

Clown. (Sings.) His eyes do show his days are almost done,

Mal. Is't even so ?
Sir To. (Sings.) ' But I will never die.'

[Falls on the floor. Clown. (Sings.) “Sir Toby,-0, Sir Toby,--there you lie.'

Mil. This is much credit to you. [Clown raises Sir T.

Sir To. (Sings.) You lie.'- Art any more than a steward ? Dost thou think, because thou art virtuous, there shall be no more cakes and ale ?

Clown. Yes, by Saint Anne ! and ginger shall be hot i'the mouth, too. Sir To. Thou’rt i'the right.—Go, sir, rub your chain with

A stomp of wine, Maria ! Mal. Mistress Mary, if you prized my lady's favour at anything more than contempt, you would give means for this uncivil role : she shall know of it, by this hand. [Erit Milvolio, L., followed by the Clown, mocking him.

Go shake yonr ears. Sir An. "Twere as good a deed as to drink when man's a-hungry, to challenge him to the field ; and then to break pro rise with him, and make a fool of bim.

Sir To. Do't, knight ; I'll write thee a challenge : or I'll deliver thy indignation to him by word of mouth.

Mr. Sweet Sir Toby, be patient for to-night ; since the youth of the Dike's was to-day with my lady, she is much ont of quiet. For Monsieur Malvolio, let me alone with him : if I do not gull him into a nayword, and make hilie a co umon recreation, do not think I have wit enough to lie straight in my bed : I know I can do it.

Sir To. Possess us, possess us ; tell us something of him.
Mir. Marry, sir, sometimes he is a kind of Puritan.
Sir An. O, if I thought that, I'd beat him like a dog.

Sir To. What, for being a Puritan ? thy exquisite reason, dear knight?

Sir An. I have on exquisite reason for't, but I have reagood enough

Mar. The devil a Puritan that he is, or anything constantly, but a time pleaser ; an affectioned ass; so crammed, as he thinks, with excellencies, that it is his ground of faith, that all that look on him, love him; and on that více in him will my revenge find notable cause to work.

Sir To. What wilt thou do?

Mar, I will drop in his way some obscure epistles of love ; wherein, by the color of his beard, the shape of his leg, the manner of his gait, the expressure of his eye, he shall find himself most feelingly personated. I can write very like my lady, your niece : on a forgotten matter, we can hardly make distinction of our hands,

Sir To. Excellent ! I smell a device.
Sir An. I have't in my nose, too.

Sir To. He shall think, by the letters that thou wilt drop, that they come from my niece, and that she is in love with him.

Sir An. 0, 'twill be admirable !

Mar. Sport royal, I warrant you. I will plant you two, and let Fabian make a third, where he shall find the letter

; observe his construction of it. For this night to-bed, and dream on the event.-Farewell.

Erit, L. Sir To. Good night, Penthesilea. Sir An. Before me, she's a good wench. Sir To. She's a beagle, true bred, and one that adores ; what o'that? Sir An. I was adored once, too.

Sir To. Let's to bed knight.—Thou hast need send for more money.

Sir An. If I cannot recover your niece, I am a foul way out.

Sir To. Send for money, knight ; if thou hast her not i’the end, call me Cut.

Sir An. If I do not, never trust me, take it how you will.

Sir To. Come, come ; I'll go burn some sack, 'tis too late to go to hed now.

Sir An. I'll call yon Cut.
Sir To. Come, knight ;-come, knight.
Sir An. I'll call you Cut.

[Exeunt, R. SCENE III.-A Hall in Duke Orsino's Palace.

Enter DUKE and VIOLA, R.
Duke. Come hither, boy :-if ever thou shalt love,

me

of

In the sweet pangs of it, remember me :
For, such as I am, all true lovers are.-
My life upon't, young though thou art thine eye
Hath stayed upon some favor that it loves ;
Hath it not, boy ?

Vio. A little, by your favor.
Duk. What kind of woman is't ?
Vio. or your complexion.
Duke. She is not worth thee, then. What years, i'faith?
Vio. About your years, my lord.

Duke. Too old, by heaven !-Once more, Cesario,
Get thee to yon saine sovereign cruelty ;
Tell her, my love, more noble than the world,
Prizes not quantity of dirty lands ;
The parts that fortune hath bestowed upon her,
Tell her, I hold giddily as fortune ;
But 'tis that miracle, and queen gems,
That nature pranks her in, attracts my soul.

Vio. But, if she cannot love you, sir ?
Duke. I cannot be so answered

Vio. 'Sooth, but you must.
Say, that some lady, as, perhaps, there is,
Hath for your lore as great a pang of heart
As you have for Olivia : you cannot love her ;
You tell her so : must she not then be answered ?

Duke. There is no woman's sides
Can bide the beating of so strong a passion
As love doth give my heart :make no compare
Between that love a woman can bear me,
And I owe Olivia.

Vio. Ay, but I know,-
Duke. What dost thou know?

Vio Too well what love women to men may owe :
In faith, they are as true of heart as we.
My father had a daughter loved a man,
As might be, perhaps, were I woman,
I should your lordship.

Duke. And what's her history ?

Vio. A blank, my lord : she never told her love,
But let concealment, like a worm i’the bud,
Feed on her damask cheek : she pined in thought ;

And, with a green and yellow melancholy,
She sat like patience on a monument,
Smiling at grief. Was not this not this love, indeed ?
We men may say more, swear more : but, indeed,
Our shows are more than will; for still we prove
Much in our vows, but little in our love.

Duke. But died thy sister of her love, my boy?

Vio. I am all the daughters of my my father's house,
And all the brothers too. -
Sir, shall I to this lady?

Duke. Ay, that's the theme.
To her in laste ; give her this jewel ; say,
My love can give no place, bide 10 denay.

[Ereunt, Duke, R., Viola, L.

END OF ACT II.

ACT III.

SCENE I.-Olivia's Garden.

Enter Sir Toby, SIR ANDREW, and FABIAN L.

Sir To. Come thy ways, Signior Fabian.

Fab. Nay, I'll come ; if I lose a scruple of this sport, let me be boiled to death with melancholy.

Sir To. Wouldst thou not be glad to have the niggardly, rascally sheep-biter, come by some notable shame ?

Fub. I would exult, man : you know he brought me out of favor with my lady, about a bear-baiting bere.

Sir To. To anger bim, we'll have the bear again ; and we will fool himn black and blue:-shall we not Sir Andrew ? Sir An. An we do not, it is pity of our lives.

Enter Maria, with a letter. L. Sir To. Here comes the little villain !

How now, my nettle of India ?

Mar. Get ye all three behind yon clump : Malvolio's coming down this walk ; he has been yonder i' the sun, prac. tising behavior to his own shadow, this half hour ; observe him, for the love of mockery ; for I know, this letter will

make a contemplative idiot of him. Close in the name of jesting ! ( The men hide themselves r.) Lie thou there ; ( Throws down a letter,) for here comes the trout that must be caught with tickling

[Exit, R. Enter MalvoLIO, L. Mal. 'Tis but fortune ; all fortune. Maria once told me she did affect me : and I have heard herself come thus near, that, should she fancy, it should be one of my complexion. Besides, she uses me with a more exalted respect thau any one else that follows her. What should I think ou't ?

Sir To. Here's an over-weening rogue !

Fab. Contemplation makes a rare turkey-cock of him ; how he jets under his advanced plumes !

Sir An. 'Slight, I could so beat the rogue !-
Mal. To be Count Malvolio !
Sir To. Ah, rogne !
Sir An. Pistol him ! pistol him !
Sir To. Peace, peace !

Mal. There is example fort : the lady of the strachy married the yeonnan of the wardrobe.

Sir An. Fie on him Jazebel !

Fab. Now he's deeply in ; look, how imagination blows him.

Mal. Having been three months married to her, sitting in my state

Sir To. Oh, for a stone-bow, to hit him in the eye!

Mal. Calling my officers about me, in my branched velvet gown !-having come from a day-bed, where I left Olivia sleeping !

Sir To. Fire and brimstone
Fab. Oh, peace, peace !

Mul. And then to have humor of state : and after a demure travel of regard, telling them, I know my place, as I would they should do theirs—to ask for my kipsinan Toby !

Sir To. Bolts and shackles !
Fab. Oh, peace, peace, peace

!

! Mul. Seven of my pecple, with an obedient start, make out for him : I frown the wbile ; and perchance, wind up my watch, or play with some rich jewel. Toby approaches : court'sies there to me

now,

now

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