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best persuaded of himself, so cram'd, as he thinks, with excellencies, that it is his ground of faith, that all, that look on him, love him; and on that vice 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 colour of his beard, the shape of his leg, the manner of his gait, ° the expressure of his eye, forehead, and complexion, 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. Exellent! I smell a device.
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.
Mar. My purpose is, indeed, a horse of that colour.
Mar. Sport royal, I warrant you: I know, my physick will work with him. I will plant you two, and let the fool make a third, where he shall find the letter ; observe his construction of it. For this night, to bed, and dream on the event, Farewel.
[Exit. Sir To. Good Night, ? Penthesilea. Sir And. Before me, she's a good wench.
Sir To. She's a beagle, true-bred, and one that adores me; What o'that?
Sir And. I was adored once too.
Sir To. Let's to-bed, knight.-Thou had'st need fend for more money.
• the expressure)—the representation, description.
K k 4
Sir And. If I cannot recover your niece, I am a foul
Sir To. Send for money, knight; if thou hast her not i'the end, call me Cut.
Sir And. 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 bed now: come, knight ; come knight. [Exeunt.
Enter Duke, Viola, Curio, and others.
Cur. He is not here, so please your lordship that should sing it.
Duke. Who was it?
Cur. Feste the jester, my lord; a fool, that the lady Olivia's father took much delight in: he is about the house. Duke. Seek him out, and play the tune the while.
[Exit Curio. (Mufick. Come hither, boy ; If ever thou shalt love, In the sweet pangs of it, remember me: For, such as I am, all true lovers are;
Unstaid and skittish in all ‘motions else,
Vio. 'It gives a very echo to the seat
Duke. Thou doit fpeak masterly :
Vio. A little by * your favour.
Duke. Too old, by heaven; Let still the woman take
Vio. I think it well, my Lord.
Duke. Then let thy love be younger than thyself,
Vio. And so they are: alas, that they are fo;
* motions else, save, in the constant image)--emotions, tendencies of the mind, except that of constantly presenting the image.
" It gives a very echo to the seat where love is tbron'd.)- It is in perfect unison with the heart-strings of a lover.
* Hath ftay'd upon fome favour that it loves ; ]-Hath been fix'd in rapture on some beauteous face, of which it is still enamoured. your favour. ]-equivocally,
worn, --worn out.
Re-enter Curio, and Clown.
Clo. Are you ready, sir?
S O N G.
Come away, come away, death,
Fly away, fly away, breath;
0, prepare it;
Did share it.
Not a friend, not a friend greet
Lay me, O! where
To weep there.
y free)-blithe-fair and free were conimon epithets of the fex.
z silly footh, and dallies with the innocence of love, like the old age.)simple truth, and sports with the subject of innocent love, like the songs in days of yore, the golden age. * Jad cypres]-a throud made of that stuff.
Duke. There's for thy pains.
Clo. Truly, sir, and pleasure will be paid, one time or other.
Duke. Give me now leave to leave thee.
Clo. Now, the melancholy god protect thee; and the taylor make thy doublet of changeable taffata, for thy mind is a very opal !—I would have men of such constancy put to sea, that their business might be every thing, and their intent every where ; for that's it, that always makes a good voyage of nothing.–Farewel.
[Exit. Duke. Let all the rest give place. — Once more, Cesario, Get thee to yon fame sovereign cruelty : Tell her, my love, more noble than the world, Prizes not quantity of dirty lands; The parts that fortune hath bestow'd upon her, Tell her I hold as 'giddily as fortune; But 'tis that miracle, and
of gems, That nature pranks her in, attracts my soul.
Vio. But, if she cannot love you, sir?
Vio. 'Sooth, but you must.
your love as great a pang of heart
Duke. There is no woman's sides,
opal!]— fickle, wavering, from the stone so called, which reflects all colours.
giddily]-carelessly. d that miracle, and queen of gems, that nature pranks ber in, ]—that exquisite beauty, with which nature hath adorned her.