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out of my welkin: I might say, element; but the | Which you knew none of yours: What might you word is over-worn.

[Exit.

Vio. This fellow's wise enough to play the fool; And, to do that well, craves a kind of wit: He must observe their mood on whom he jests, The quality of persons, and the time; And, like the haggard, check at every feather That comes before his eye. This is a practice, As full of labour as a wise man's art: For folly, that he wisely shows, is fit; But wise men, folly-fallen, quite taint their wit. Enter Sir TOBY BELCH and Sir ANDREW AGUE-CHEEK.

Sir To. Save you, gentleman.

Vio. And you, sir.

Sir And. Dieu vous garde, monsieur.
Vio. Et vous aussi; votre serviteur.

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 hath no voice, lady, but to your own most pregnant and vouchsafed ear.

Sir And. 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?

Vio. Cesario is your servant's name, fair princess.
Oli. My servant, sir! 'Twas never merry world,
Since lowly feigning was call'd compliment:
You are servant to the count Orsino, youth.

Vio. And he is yours, and his must needs be

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think?

Have you not set mine honour at the stake,
And baited it with all the unmuzzled thoughts
That tyrannous heart can think? To one of you
receiving

Enough is shown; a cyprus, not a bosom,
Hides my poor heart: So let me hear you speak.
Vio. I pity you.

Oli. That's a degree to love.

Vio. No, not a grise; for 'tis a vulgar proof, That very oft we pity enemies.

Oli. Why, then, methinks, 'tis time to smile again O world, how apt the poor are to be proud! If one should be a prey, how much the better To fall before the lion, than the wolf? [Clock strike The clock upbraids me with the waste of time. Be not afraid, good youth, I will not have you : And yet, when wit and youth is come to harvest, Your wife is like to reap a proper man: There lies your way, due west.

Vio.

Then westward-hoe
Grace, and good disposition 'tend your ladyship!
You'll nothing, madam, to my lord by me? .
Oli. Stay:

I pr'ythee, tell me, what thou think'st of me.
Vio. That you do think, you are not what you ar
Oli. If I think so, I think the same of you.
Vio. Then think you right; I am not what I an
Oli. I would, you were as I would have you b
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 noo
Cesario, by the roses of the spring,

By maidhood, honour, truth, and every thing,
I love thee so, that, maugre all thy pride,
Nor wit, nor reason, can my passion hide.
Do not extort thy reasons from this clause,
For, that I woo, thou therefore hast no cause :
But, rather, reason thus with reason fetter:
Love sought is good, but given unsought, is bett
Vio. By innocence I swear, and by my youth,
I have one heart, one bosom, and one truth,
And that no woman has; nor never none
Shall mistress be of it, save I alone.
And so adieu, good madam; never more
Will I my master's tears to you deplore.

Oli. Yet come again: for thou, perhaps, may

move

That heart, which now abhors, to like his love. [Exeu

SCENE II. A Room in Olivia's House. Enter Sir TOBY BELCH, Sir ANDREW AGUE-CHE and FABIAN.

Sir And. No, faith, I'll not stay a jot longer. Sir To. Thy reason, dear venom, give thy reas Fab. You must needs yield your reason, sir A drew.

Sir And. Marry, I saw your niece do more favo to the count's serving man, than ever she bestow upon me; I saw't i'the orchard.

Sir To. Did she see thee the while, old boy ? me that.

Sir And. As plain as I see you now.

Fab. This was a great argument of love in toward you.

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&r And. 'Slight! will you make an ass o' me? Fab. I will prove it legitimate, sir, upon the ouths of judgment and reason..

Sir Te. 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 brimone 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 guilt 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 lief be a Brownist, as a politician.

Te. Why then, build me thy fortunes upon the basis of valour. Challenge me the count's youth to fight with him; hurt him in eleven places; my niece shall take note of it: and assure thyself, there is no love-broker in the world can more prevail in man's commendation with woman, than repart of valour.

Fab. There is no way but this, sir Andrew. Sir And. Will either of you bear me a challenge to hira?

Ta. 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 ugh for the bed of Ware in England, set 'em dowa; go about it. Let there be gall enough in thy ink; though thou write with a goose-pen, no matter: About it:

Ser And. Where shall I find you? Sr To. We'll call thee at the cubiculo: Go. [Erit Sir ANDREW. Fab. This is a dear manakin to you, sir Toby. Ser Te. 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.

Sr To. Never trust me then; and by all means stir on the youth to an answer. I think oxen and wainropes cannot hail them together. For Andrew, if he were opened, and you find so much blood in his liver as will clog the foot of a flea, I'll eat the rest of the anatomy.

Feb. And his opposite, the youth, bears in his visage no great presage of cruelty.

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his murderer: He does obey every point of the letter that I dropped to betray him. He does smile his face into more lines than are in the new map, with the augmentation of the Indies: you have not seen such a thing as 'tis; I can hardly forbear hurling things at him. I know my lady will strike him; if she do, he'll smile, and take't for a great favour.

Sir To. Come, bring us, bring us where he is. [Exeunt.

SCENE III. A Street..

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Enter ANTONIO and SEBASTIAN.

Seb. I would not by my will have troubled you; But, since you make your pleasure of your pains, I will no further chide you.

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,) But jealousy what might befall your travel, Being skilless in these parts; which to a stranger, Unguided, and unfriended, often prove Rough and unhospitable: My willing love, The rather by these arguments of fear, Set forth in your pursuit.

Seb.

My kind Antonio, I can no other answer make, but, thanks, And thanks, and ever thanks: Often good turns Are shuffled off with such uncurrent pay: But, were my worth, as is my conscience, firm, You should find better dealing. What's to do? Shall we go see the reliques of this town? Ant. To-morrow, sir; best, first, go see your

lodging.

Seb. I am not weary, and 'tis long to night; I pray you let us satify our eyes With the memorials, and the things of fame, That do renown this city.

Ant.

'Would, you'd pardon me; I do not without danger walk these streets : Once, in a sea-fight, 'gainst the count his gallies, I did some service; of such note, indeed, That, were I ta'en here, it would scarce be answer'd. Seb. Belike, you slew great number of his people. Ant. The offence is not of such a bloody nature; Albeit the quality of the time, and quarrel, Might well have given us bloody argument. It might have since been answer'd in repaying What we took from them; which, for traffick's sake, Most of our city did: only myself stood out: For which, if I be lapsed in this place, I shall pay dear.

Seb.

Do not then walk too open. Ant. It doth not fit me. Hold, sir, here's my

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Oli. Smil'st thou ?

I sent for thee upon a sad occasion.

Mal. Sad, lady? I could be sad: This does make some obstruction in the blood, this cross-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.

Oli. Why, how dost thou man? matter with thee?

what is the

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? Mal. To bed? ay, sweet-heart; and I'll come to thee.

Oli. God eomfort thee! Why dost thou 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?

Mal. Be not afraid of greatness: -'twas well writ.
Oli. What meanest thou by that, Malvolio?
Mal. Some are born great,·

Oli. Ha?

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Oli. Cross-gartered?

Oli. I'll come to him. [Erit 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 and, consequently, sets down the singularity; 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 scruple of a scruple, no obstacle Wha no incredulous or unsafe circumstance, can be said? Nothing, that can be, can com between me and the full prospect of my hopes Well, Jove, not I, is the doer of this, and he is t be thanked.

Re-enter MARIA, with Sir TOBY BELCH and
FABIAN.

Sir To. Which way is he, in the name of sand tity? If all the devils in hell be drawn in littl and Legion himself possessed him, yet I'll speak t 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 m private; go off.

Mar. Lo, how hollow the fiend speaks with him! did not I tell you?- Sir Toby, my lady pra you to have a care of him.

Mal. Ah, ah does she so?

Sir To. Go to, go to; peace, peace, we must de gently with him; let me alone. How do yo Malvolio? how is't with you? What, man! de 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, how takes it at heart! Pray God, he be not bewitche Fab. Carry his water to the wise woman.

Mar. Marry, and it shall be done to-morr morning, if I live. My lady would not lose h for more than I'll say.

Mal. How now, mistress?
Mar. O lord!

Sir To. Pr'ythee, hold thy peace; this is not way: Do you not see, you move him? let me al with him.

Fab. No way but gentleness; gently, gent

Mal. Go to thou art made, if thou desirest to be the fiend is rough, and will not be roughly used.

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Sir To. Why, how now, my bawcock? how d thou, chuck?

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Mal. Go, hang yourselves all! you are idle shalow things: I am not of your element; you shall know more hereafter. [Exit.

Mar. No, I warrant you, he will not hear of god- | 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 fright them both, that they will kill one another by the look, like cockatrices. Enter OLIVIA and VIOLA.

fir 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.
Mr. The house will be the quieter.

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 for a finder of madmen. But see, but see.

Enter Sir ANDREW AGUE-CHEEK. Fr. More matter for a May morning.

& And. Here's the challenge, read it; I warrat, there's vinegar and pepper in't.

Fok. Is't so sawcy?

Sr And. Ay, is it, I warrant him: do but read. T. Give me. [reads.] Youth, whatsoever thou et, the art but a scurvy fellow.

Fab Good, and valiant.

Er To. Wonder not, nor admire not in thy mind, why I do call thee so, for I will show thee no reason for't. Fal. A good note: that keeps you from the blow of the law.

Sir To. Thou comest to the lady Olivia, and in my
the uses thee kindly: but thou liest in thy throat,
at is not the matter I challenge thee for.

Feb. Very brief, and exceeding good sense-less.
To. I will way-lay thee going home; where if
be thy chance to kill me,'

Fab. Good.

& To. Thou killest me like a rogue and a villain. Fed. Still you keep o'the windy side of the law: Good

Sr To Fare thee well; And God have mercy upon of our souls! He may have mercy upon mine; my hope is better, and so look to thyself. Thy friend, as thou usest him, and thy sworn enemy, ANDREW AGUB-CHEEK.

Fab. 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 hor
rid message for a challenge.

[Exeunt Sir TOBY, FABIAN, and Maria.
Oli. I have said too much unto a heart of stone,
And laid mine honour too unchary out:
There's something in me, that reproves my fault ;'
But such a headstrong potent fault it is,
That it but mocks reproof.

Vio. With the same 'haviour that your passion
bears,

Go on my master's griefs.

Oli. Here, wear this jewel for me, 'tis my picture;
Refuse it not, it hath no tongue to vex you:
And, I beseech you, come again to-morrow.
What shall you ask of me, that I'll deny;
That honour, sav'd, may upon asking give?
Vio. Nothing but this, your true love for my

master.

Oli. How with mine honour may I give him that
Which I have given to you?

Vio.
I will acquit you.
Oli. Well, come again to-morrow: Fare thee well;
A fiend, like thee, might bear my soul to hell. [Exit.

Re-enter Sir ToBY BELCH and FABIAN.

Sir To. Gentleman, God save thee.
Vio. And you, sir.

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 of despight, bloody as the hunter, attends thee at the orchard end: dismount thy tuck, be yare in thy preparation, for thy assailant is quick, skilful, and deadly.

Vio. You mistake, sir; I am sure, no man hath any quarrel to me; my remembrance is very free and clear from any image of offence done to any man.

Sir To. You'll find it otherwise, I assure you: therefore, if you hold your life at any price, betake you to your guard; for your opposite hath in him what youth, strength, skill, and wrath, can furnish man withal.

Vio. I pray you, sir, what is he?

Te. If this letter move him not, his legs can: I'll give't him. Mr. You may have very fit occasion for't; he is Sir To. He is knight, dubbed with unhacked in some commerce with my lady, and will by rapier, and on carpet consideration; but he is a and by depart. devil in private brawl; souls and bodies hath he &Go, sir Andrew; scout me for him at the divorced three; and his incensement at this moment ar of the orchard, like a bum-bailiff: so soon is so implacable, that satisfaction can be none but ever thou seest him, draw; and, as thou drawest, by pangs of death and sepulchre: hob, nob, is his horrible; for it comes to pass oft, that a ter-word; give't, or take't.

rible cath, with a swaggering accent sharply twanged

gives manhood more approbation than ever proof itself would have earned him. Away. Sir And. Nay, let me alone for swearing. [Exit, Now will not I deliver his letter: for the

behaviour of the young gentleman gives him out to e of god capacity and breeding; his employment en his lord and my niece confirms no less; Bendore this letter, being so excellently ignorant, will bred no terror in the youth, he will find it cutes from a clodpole But, sir, I will deliver his

Vio. I will return again into the house, and desire some conduct of the lady. I am no fighter. I have heard of some kind of men, that put quarrels purposely on others, to taste their valour: belike, this is a man of that quirk.

Sir To. Sir, no; his indignation derives itself out of a very competent injury; therefore, get you on, and give him his desire. Back you shall not to the house, unless you undertake that with me, which with as much safety you might answer him: therefore, on, or strip your sword stark naked; for meddle

you must, that's certain, or forswear to wear iron about you.

Vio. This is as uncivil, as strange. I beseech you, do me this courteous office, as to know of the knight what my offence to him is; it is something of my negligence, nothing of my purpose. Sir To. I will do so. Signior Fabian, stay you by this gentleman till my return. [Exit Sir TOBY. Vio. Pray you, sir, do you know of this matter? Fab. I know, the knight is incensed against you, even to a mortal arbitrement; but nothing of the circumstance more. ¡

Vio. I beseech you, what manner of man is he? Fab. Nothing of that wonderful promise, to read him by his form, as you are like to find him in the proof of his valour. He is, indeed, sir, the most skilful, bloody, and fatal opposite that you could possibly have found in any part of Illyria: Will you walk towards him? I will make your peace with him, if I can.

Vio. I shall be much bound to you for't: I am one, that would rather go with sir priest, than sir knight I care not who knows so much of my mettle. [Exeunt.

Re-enter Sir TOBY, with Sir ANDREW. Sir To. Why, man, he's a very devil; I have not seen such a virago. I had a pass with him, rapier, scabbard, and all, and he gives me the stuck-in, with such a mortal motion, that it is inevitable; and on the answer, he pays you as surely as your feet hit the ground they step on: They say, he has been fencer to the Sophy.

Sir And. Pox on't, I'll not meddle with him. Sir To. Ay; but he will not now be pacified: Fabian can scarce hold him yonder.

Sir And. Plague on't; an I thought he had been valiant, and so cunning in fence, I'd have seen him damned ere I'd have challenged him. Let him let the matter slip, and I'll give him my horse, gray Capilet.

Sir To. I'll make the motion: Stand here, make a good show on't; this shall end without the perdition of souls: Marry, I'll ride your horse as well as I ride you.

Re-enter FABIAN and VIOLA.

[Aside.

I have his horse [to FAB.] to take up the quarrel; I have persuaded him the youth's a devil.

Fab. He is as horribly conceited of him; and pants, and looks pale, as if a bear were at his heels.

Sir To. There's no remedy, sir; he will fight with you for his oath sake: marry, he hath better bethought him of his quarrel, and he finds that now scarce to be worth talking off: therefore draw, for the supportance of his vow; he protests, he will not hurt you.

Vio. Pray God defend me! A little thing would make me tell them how much I lack of a man.

[Aside.

Fab. Give ground, if you see him furious. Sir To. Come, sir Andrew, there's no remedy; the gentleman will, for his honour's sake, have one bout with you: he cannot by the duello avoid it ; but he has promised me, as he is a gentleman and a soldier, he will not hurt you. Come on to't. Sir And. Pray God, he keep his oath.

Enter ANTONIO.

[Draws.

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Fab. O good sir Toby, hold; here come the officers. Sir To. I'll be with you anon. [TO ANTONIO. Vio. Pray, sir, put up your sword, if you please. [To Sir ANDREW, Sir And. Marry, will I, sir; and, for that I promised you, I'll be as good as my word; He will bear you easily, and reins well.

1 Off. This is the man; do thy office. 2 Off. Antonio, I arrest thee at the suit Of count Orsino.

Ant.

You do mistake me, sir;

1 Off. No, sir, no jot; I know your favour well, Though now you have no sea-cap on your head. Take him away; he knows, I know him well.

Ant. I must obey.-This comes with seeking you; But there's no remedy; I shall answer it. What will you do? Now my necessity Makes me to ask you for my purse: It grieves me Much more, for what I cannot do for you, Than what befalls myself. You stand amaz'd; But be of comfort.

2 Off. Come, sir, away.

Ant. I must entreat of you some of that money Vio. What money, sir?

For the fair kindness you have show'd me here,
And, part, being prompted by your present trouble
Out of my lean and low ability

I'll lend you something: my having is not much;
I'll make division of my present with you:
Hold, there is half my coffer.
Ant.

Will you deny me now
Is't possible, that my deserts to you
Can lack persuasion? Do not tempt my misery,
Lest that it make me so unsound a man,
As to upbraid you with those kindnesses
That I have done for you.

Vio.

I know of none;

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Ant. But, O, how vile an idol proves this god! -
Thou hast, Sebastian, done good feature shame.
In nature there's no blemish, but the mind;
None can be call'd deform'd, but the unkind:
Virtue is beauty; but the beauteous-evil

Vio. I do assure you 'tis against my will. [Draws. Are empty trunks, o'erflourish'd by the devil,

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