Sir And. I' faith, or I either? Sir To. Why, thou haft put him in fuch a dream, that when the image of it leaves him, he must run. mad. Mar. Nay, but fay true, does it work upon him? Sir To. Like aqua vite with a midwife. Mar. If you will then fee the fruits of the sport, mark his firft approach before my Lady: he will come to her in yellow ftockings, and 'tis a colour fhe abhors; and cross-garter'd, a fashion fhe detefts; and he will fmile upon her, which will now be fo unfuitable to her difpofition, being addicted to a melancholy, as fhe is, that it cannot but turn him into a notable con. tempt: if you will fee it, follow me. Sir To. To the gates of Tartar; thou most excellent devil of wit! Sir And. I'll make one too. [Exeunt. குஇ S A CT III. SCENE, Olivia's Garden. Enter Viola, and Clown. VIOLA. AVE thee, friend, and thy mufick: doft thou live by thy tabor? Clo. No, Sir, I live by the church. Vio. Art thou a churchman? Clo. No fuch matter, Sir; I do live by the church: for I do live at my houfe, and my houfe doth ftand by the church. Vio. So thou may'ft fay, the King lies by a beggar, if a beggar dwell near him: or the church ftands by thy tabor, if thy tabor ftand by the church.. Cl Clo. You have faid, Sir: to fee this age!(10) A fentence is but a chev'ril glove to a good wit; how quickly the wrong fide may be turned outward? Vio. Nay, that's certain; they, that dally nicely with words, may quickly make them wanton. Clo. I would, therefore, my fifter had had no name, Sir Vio. Why, man? Clo. Why, Sir, her name's a word; and to dally with that word, might make my filter wanton; but, indeed, words are very rafcals, fince bonds difgrac'd them. Vio. Thy reafon, man? Clo. Troth, Sir, I can yield you none without words ; sand words are grown fo falfe, I am loth to prove reafon with them. Vio. I warrant, thou art a merry fellow, and careft for nothing. Clo. Not fo, Sir, I do care for fomething; but, in my confcience, Sir, I do not care for you: if that be to care for nothing, Sir, I would, it would make you invifible. Vio. Art not thou the Lady Olivia's fool? Clo. No, indeed, Sir; the Lady Olivia has no folly; the will keep no fool, Sir, 'till he be married; and fools are as like hufbands, as pilchers are to herrings, the hufband's the bigger: I am, indeed, not her fool, but her corrupter of words. Vio. I faw thee late at the Duke Orfino's. (10) A fentence is but a chev'ril glove to a good quit;] Mr. Pope, in his first edition of Shakespeare, to thew the world the depth of his learning, inform'd us in a glofs that cheveril meant tender from cheverillus, a young cock, a chick. But I never heard yet of any glove or leather made of a cockrel's fkin; and believe, it will hardly come into experiment in Mr. Pope's or my time. The etymology is therefore to be difputed. I fhew'd in my SHAKESPEARE reford, that cheveril leather is made of the fkin of a kid, or goat: which was called by the LATINES, Caprilus; by the ITALIANE, Ciaverello'; and by the FRENCH, Chevereul: from which laft, our word cheveril is immediately deduced. (Mr. Pope in this laft edition has fuffer'd himfelf to be inform'd; and embraced thefe derivations. Clo. Clo. Foolery, Sir, does walk about the orb like the fun; it fhines every where. I would be forry, Sir, but the fool fhould be as oft with your mafter, as with my miftrefs: I think, I faw your wifdom there. Vio. Nay, an thou pafs upon me, I'll no more with thee. Hold, there's expences for thee. Clo. Now, Jove, in his next commodity of hair, fend 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? Vio. Yes, being kept together, and put to ufe. Clo. I would play Lord Pandarus of Phrygia, Sir, to bring a Creffida to this Troylus. Vio. I understand you, Sir, 'tis well begg'd.. 316 Clo. The matter, I hope, is not great, Sir; begging but a beggar: Creffida 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 kin; I might fay, element; but the word is over[Exite Vio. This fellow is wife enough to play the fool, But wife men's, folly fall'n, quite taints their wit. (11) Creffida was a beggar.) The Poet in this circumftance undoubtedly had his eye on CHAUCER's Teftament of Crefeide. Cupid, to revenge her prophanation against his deity, calls in the planetary gods to affift him in his vengeance. They inftantly turn her mirth into melancholy, her health into fickness, her beauty into deformity, and in the end pronounce this fentence upon her; Thus fhalt thou go begging fro hous to hous, 4 Enter Enter Sir Toby, and Sir Andrew. Sir And. Save you, gentleman. (12) Sir To. Dieu vous guarde, Monfieur. Sir To. I hope, Sir, you are; and I am yours. Will you encounter the house? my niece is defirous you should enter, if your trade be to her. Vio. I am bound to your niece, Sir; I mean, fhe is the lift of my voyage. Sir To. Tafte your legs, Sir, put them to motion. Vio. My legs do better understand me, Sir, than I understand what you mean by bidding me tafte my legs. 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? well.. Vio. My matter hath no voice, Lady, but to your own moft pregnant and vouchfafed ear. Sir And. Odours, pregnant, and vouchfafed ;- - I'll get 'em all three ready. Oli. Let the garden door be fhut, 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 fervice. (12) Sir Tob. Save you, gentleman. Vio. And you, Sir. Sir And. Dieu vous guarde, Monfieur., Vio. Et vous auffi; votre ferviteur. Sir And. I bope, Sir, you are; and I am yours.] I have ventur'd to make the two knights change fpeeches in this dialogue with Viola; and, think, not without good reason. It were a prepofterous forgetfulness in the Poet, and out of all probability, to make Sir Andrew not only speak French, but understand what is faid to him in it, who in the first act did not know the English of Pourquoy. Oli. What is your name? Vio. Cefario is your fervant's name, fair Princess. Vio. And he is yours, and his muft needs be yours: Your fervant's fervant is your fervant, 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 fpheres. Vio. Dear Lady, Oli. Give me leave, I beseech you: I did fend, After the last enchantment, you did hear, A ring in chafe of you. So did I abufe Myfelf, my fervant, and, I fear me, you; Under your hard conftruction must I fit, To force that on you in a fhameful cunning, Which you knew none of yours. What might you think? Have you not fet mine honour at the ftake, And baited it with all th' unmuzzled thoughts That tyrannous heart can think? to one of your receiving Enough is fhewn; a cyprus, not a bofom, Hides my poor heart. So let us hear you speak. Vio. I pity you. Oli. That's a degree to love. Vio. No not a grice: for 'tis a vulgar proof, That very oft we pity enemies. Oli. Why then, methinks, 'tis time to fmile again; O world, how apt the poor are to be proud! If one thould be a prey, how much the better To fall before the lion, than the wolf! [Clock ftrikes. |