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Vio. A blank, my Lord: She never told her Love,
But let Concealment, like a Worm i’th' Bud,
* Feed on her damask Cheek: She pin'd in thought,

And with a green and yellow Melancholy,
She sate like Patience on a Monument,

Smiling at Grief. Was not this Love indeed?
! We Men may say more, swear more, but indeed

Our shews are more than will; for ftill we prove 1 Much in our Vows, but little in our Love.

Duke. But dy'd thy Sister of her Love, my Boy?

Vio. I am all the Daughters of my Father's House,
And all the Brothers too and yet I know not-
Sir, shall I to this Lady?

Duke. Ay, that's the Theam.
To her in hafte; give her this Jewel : Say,
My Love can give no place, bid no denay. [Exeunt.

Enter Sir Toby, Sir Andrew, and Fabian.
Sir To. Come thy ways, Signior Fabian.

Fab. Nay, I'll come; if I lose a scruple of this Sport, let me be boild to Death with Melancholy.

Sir To. Would'st thou not be glad to have the niggardly rascally Sheep-biter, come by some notable Shame?

Fab. I would exult, Man; you know he brought me out of Favour with my Lady, about a Bear-baiting here.

Sir To. To anger him we'll have the Bear again, and we
will fool him black and blue, shall we not, Sir Andrew?
Sir And. And we do not 'tis pity of our Lives.

Enter Maria.
Sir To. Here comes the little Villain: How now, my
Nettle of India ?

Mar. Get ye all three into the Box-tree; Malvolio's Coming down this Walk, he has been yonder i'th' Sun practic sing Behaviour to his own Shadow this half hour : Observe him for the love of Mockery; for I know this Letter will make a Contemplative Ideot of him. Close, in the Name of Testing, lye thou there; for here comes the Trout that must be caught with tickling,


Enter · Enter Malvolio. Male' 'Tis but Fortune, all is Fortune. Maria once to me she did affect me, and I have heard her self come thu near, that should she fancy, it should be one of my Com plexion. Besides, the uses me with a more exalted Ro fpe&, than any one else that follows her. What should: think on't?

Sir To. Here's an over-weaning Rogue.

Fab. Oh peace : Contemplation makes a rare Turkey
Cock of him; how he jers under his advanc'd Plumés.

Sir And. 'Slife, I could so beat the Rogue.
Sir To. Peace, I say.
Mal. To be Count Malvolio.
Sir To. Ah Rogue.
Sir And. Pistol him, Pistol him.
Sir To. Peace, peace.

Mal. There is Example fort : The Lady of the Stracha married the Yeoman of the Wardrobe.

Sir And. Fie on him, Jezebel.

Fab. O peace, now he's deeply in; look how Imagination blows him.

Mal. Having been three Months married to her, sitting in my State.

Sir To. O for a Stone-bow to hit him in the Eye.

Mal. Calling my Officers about me, in my branch'd Vel ver Gown; having come from a Day-bed, where I have left Olivia sleeping.

Sir To. Fire and Brimstone.
Fab. O peace, peace.

Mal. And then to have the Humour 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 Kiol. man Toby

Sir To. Bolts and Shackles.
Fab. Oh peace, peace, peace, now, now.

Mal. Seven of my People with an obedient Start make out for him : I frown the while, and perchance wind up my Wareh, or play with some rich Jewel. Toby approaches, Courtsies there to me.

Sir To. Shall this Fellow live?

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Fab. Tho'our filence be drawn from us with Cares, yet

Mal. I extend my hand to him thus; quenching my familiar Smile with an austere regard of Controul.

Sir To. And does not Toby take you a blow on the Lips - then?

Mal. Saying, Cousin Toby, my Fortunes having cast me on your Neice, give me this Prerogative of Speech

Sir To. What, what?
Pos Mal. You must amend your Drunkenness. .

Sir To. Out, Scab.
Fab. Nay, patience, or we break the Sinews of our Plot.

Mal. Besides, you waste the Treasure of your Time, with a foolish Knight

Sir And. That's me, I warrant you.
Mal. One Sir Andrew.
Sir And. I knew 'twas I, for many do call me Fool.
Mal. What Employment have we here? [Taking up a

Fab. Now is the Woodcock near the Gin. I Letter. -Ink Sir To. Oh peace! Now the Spirit of Humours intimate reading aloud to him. .

Mal. By my Life this is my Lady's hand: These be her very C's, her V's, and her T's, and thus makes she her great . Ex. P's. It is in Contempt of question her Hand. ranck Sir And. Her C's, her V's, and her T's; why that?

Mal. To the unknown belov'd, this, and my good Wishes; Her very Phrases: By your leave, Wax. Soft! and the Impressure her Lucrece, with which she uses to seal ; 'tis my

Lady: To whom should this be?
La Fab. This wins him, Liver and all.
mr Mal. Jove knows I Love, but who, Lips do not move, no
M Man must know. No Man must know W hat follows? The

Numbers alter'd No Man must know
If this should be thee, Malvolio ?

Sir To. Marry hang thee, Brock.
Mal. I may command where I adore, but Silence, like a

Lucress Knife,
With boldness stroke my Heart doch gore, M. O, A. I. doth
. Sway my Life. -
Fab. A Fuftian Riddle.
Sir To. Excellent Wench, fay 1.
Vol. II,


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Mal. M.O. A. 1. doth fway my Life Nay, bu: first let me see l et me see

Fab. What a dish of Poison has she dress’d him?
Sir To. And with what Wing the Stallion checks at it?

Mal. I may command, where I adore. Why she may command me: I serve her, she is my Lady. Why this is evident to any formal Capacity. There is no obftru&ionit this and the end- what should that Alphabetica, position portend. If I could make that resemble something in me? Softly M .Q. A. I.

Sir To. 0.1. make up that, he is now at a cold Scent.

Fab. Sowter will cry upon't for all this, tho' it be as rank as a Fox.

Mal. M.-- Malvolio -M.- why that begins my Name.

Fab. Did not I say he would work it out, the Cur iser. cellent at Faults.

Mal, M. But then there is no consonancy in the Sequel; that suffers under Probation : A should follow, but 0 does.

Fab. And O shall end, I hope.
Sir To. Ay, or I'll cudgel him, and make him cry O.
Mal. And then I, comes behind.

Fab. Ay, and you had any Eye behind you, you might see more detration at your Heels, than Fortunes before


Mal. M.0. A.1. 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 fall into thy hand, revolve. In my Stars I am above thee, but be not afraid of Greatness; fome are born Great, Some atchieve Greatness, and some have Greatness put upon them. Thy Fates open their Hands, let thy Blood and Spirit embrace them; and to inure thy self to what thou art like to be, cast thy humble Slough, and appear fresh. Be opposite with a Kinsman, Surly with Servants : Let thy Tongue tang Arguments of State; put thy self into the Trick of Singularity. She thus advises thee, that fighs for thee. Remember who commended thy yellow Stockings, and wishid to see thee ever cross-gartord. I say remember, go to, then 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. Farewel. She that would alter Ser. vices with thee. The fortunate and happy Day-light and Champian 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 devise, the very Man. I do now fool my self, 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-garter'd, and in this she El manifests her self to my Love, and with a kind of Con- junction drives me to these Habits of her liking. I thank

my Stars, I am happy: I will be strange, stout, in yellow i Stockings and cross-garter'd, even with the swiftness of put.

ting on. Jove, and my Stars be praised. Here is yet a PostEl script. Thou canst not chufe to know who I am; if thou en

tertainest my Love, let it appear in thy smiling, thy Smiles behi come thee well. Therefore in my Presence still smile, Dear -, my Sweet, I prethee. 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 1 of Thousands to be paid from the Sophy.

Sir To. I could marry this Wench for this Device. 01" Sir And. So could I too.

Sir To. And ask no other Dowry with her, but such another Jeft.

Enter Maria.

Sir And. Nor I neither.

Fab. Here comes my noble Gull-catcher. i Sir To. Wilt thou set thy Foot o'my Neck?

Sir And. Or o’mine either?

Sir Te Shall I play my Freedom at Tray-trip, and be come thy Bond-Nave? F1 Sir And. I'faith, or I either?

Sir To. Why, thou hast put him in such a Dream, thac is when the Image of it leaves him, he must run mad. E Mar. Nay, but say true, does it work upon him? i Sir To. Like Aqua-vite with a Midwife.

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

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