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Sir And.' I' faith, or [either?
Sir To. Why, thou haft put him in such a dream, that when the image of it leaves him, he most run. mad.
Mar. Nay, but say true, does it work upon him? "Sir To. Like
vitæ with a midwife. 3. Mar. If you will then see the fruits of the sport, mark his first approach before my Lady: he will come to lier in yellow stockings, and ’ris a colour she abhors; and cross-garter'd, a fathion she detests; and he will smile upon her, which will now be so unsuitable to her disposition, being addicted to a melancholy, as she is, that it cannot but turn him into a notable con. tempt : if you will see it, follow me,
) Sir To. To the gates of Tartar; thou most excellent devil of wit! Sir And. I'll make one too.
live by thy tabor ?
Clo. No such matter, Sir; I do live by the church : for I do live at my house, and my house doth stand by the church.
Vio. So thou may't say, the King lies by a beggar, if a beggar dwell near him: or the church stands by thy tabor, if thy tabor ftand by the church,
Cle. You have said, Sir: to see this age !-(10) A sentence is but a chev’ril glove to a good wit ; how quickly the
fide may be turned outward? Vio. Nay, that's certain ; they, that dally nicely with words, may quickly make them wanton.
Cio. I would, therefore, my sister had had no name, Vio Why, man? Clo. Why, Sir, her name's a word ; and to dally with that word, might make my filler wanton ; but, indeed, words are very rascals, since bonis disgrac'd them.
Vio. Thy reason, man?
Clo. Troth, Sir, I can yield you none without words ; and words are grown lo false, I am loth to prove reafon with them.
Vio. I warrant, thou art a merry fellow, and carest for nothing.
Clo. Not fo, Sir, I do care for something; but, in my conscience, Sir, I do not care for you : if that be to care for nothing, Sir, I would, it would make you invisible.
Vio. Art not thou the Lady Olizia's fool ?
Clo. No, indeed, Sir; the Lady Olivia has no folly; she will keep no fool, Sir, 'till the be married; and fools are as like husbands, as pilchers are to her.ings, the husband's the bigger : I am, indeed, not her fool, but her corrupter of words.
Vio. I saw thee late at the Duke Orfino's.
(10) A sentence is but a chev'ril glove to a good evit;] Mr. Pope, in h's first edition of Shakespeare, to ihew ibe world the depth of his learning, inform'd us in a glors that cheveril meant tender from ibeo perillus, a young cock, a chick. But I never heard yet of any glove or leather made of a cockrel's skin; and believe, it will tardly come into experiment in Mr. Pope's or my time. The eiymology is there. fore to be disputed. I thew'd in my SHAKESPEARE refor’d, that cheveril leather is made of the skin of a kid, or goat: which was called by the LATINES, Caprillus; hy the IT ALIANE, Ciaverelio; and by the FRENCH, Chervercul: from which lant, out word checeril is immediately deduced. Mr. Peperin his last edition has sufferd him, felf to be infurm’d; and embraced thefe derivations.
Clo. Foolery, Sir, does walk about the orb like the fun; it shines every where. I would be sorry, Sir, but the fool should be as oft with your master, as with my mistress : I think, I saw your wisdom there.
Vio. Nay, an thou pass upon me, I'll no more with thee. Hold, there's expences for thee.
Clo. Now, Jove, in his next commodity of hair, send thee a beard !
Vio. By my troth, I'll tell thee, I am almoft fick for one, though I would not have it
grow on my chin. Is thy Lady within ?
Clo. Would not a pair of these have bred, Sir ?
Clo. I would play Lord Pandarus of Phrygia, Sir, to bring a Creffida to this Troplus.
Vio. "I understand you, Sir, ʼtis well begg’d.
Clo. The matter, I hope, is not great, Sir; begging but a beggar : Cressida was a beggar. (11) My Lady is within, Sir, I will confter to them whence you come; who you are, and what you would, is out of
my wel might say, element; but the word is over
[Exit. Vio. This fellow is wise enough to play the fool, And, to do that well, craves a kind of wit :He must observe their mood on whom he jefts, The quality of the 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 shews, is fit; But wise men's, folly fall'n, quite taints their wit.
(11) Cressida was a beggar.) The Poet in this circumstance undoubtedly had his eye on CHAUCER's Fiftañent of Creseide. Cupid, to revenge her prophanation against his deity, calls in the planetary gods to assist him in his vengeance. They instantly turn her mirth into melancholy, her health into fickness, her beauty into deformity, and in the end pronounce this sentence upon her ;
Thus shalt thou go begging fro hous to hous,
Enter Sir Toby, and Sir Andrew,
Sir To. I hope, Sir, you are; and I am yours.
niece is desirous you should enter,
if your trade be to her. Vio. I am bound to your niece, Sir; I mean, the 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 gate and entrance; but we are prevented.
Enter Olivia and Maria. Moft excellent accomplish'd Lady, the heav'ns rain odours on you !
"Sir And. That youth's a rare courtier ! rain odours? weil..
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.
(12) Sir Tob. Save you, gentleman.
Vio. And you, Sir.
Sir And. I bope, Sir, you are; and I am yours.] I have ventur'd to make the two knights change speeches in this dia. logue with Viola; and, I think, not without good reason. Je were a preposterous forgetfulness in the Poet, and out of all probability, to make Sir Andrew not only speak French, but understand what is said to him in it, who in the first act did not know the English of Pourquoy.
Oli. What is your name?
Oli. My servant, Sir?' 'Twas never merry world,
Vio. And he is yours, and his must needs be yours : Your servant's servant is
your servant, Madam. Oli. For him, I think not on him : for his thoughts, Would they were blanks, rather than fill'd with me.
Vio. Madam, I come to whet your gentle thoughts On his behalf.
Oli. O, by your leave, I pray you;I bade you never speak again of him. But would you undertake another fuit, I'd rather hear you to follicit that, Than mufick from the spheres.
Vio. Dear Lady,
Oli. Give me leave, I beseech you : I did send,
Vio. ) pity you.
Oli. Why then, methinks, 'tis time to smile again;