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A noble duke, in nature,

Mar. Ay, but he'll have but a year in all these duAs in his name.

cats ; he's a very fool, and a prodigal. Vio. What is his name?

Sir T. Fie, that you'll say so! he plays o' the violСар.


de-gambo, and speaks three or four languages word for Vio. Orsino! I have heard my father name him: word without book, and hath all the good gifts of naHe was a bachelor then. Сар. . And so is now,

Mar. He hath, indeed, -almost natural: for, besides Or was so very late: for but a month

that he's a fool, he's a great quarreller; and, but that Ago I went from hence; and then 'twas fresh he hath the gift of a coward to allay the gust he hath In murmur (as, you know, what great ones do, in quarrelling, 'tis thought among the prudent, he The less will prattle of,) that he did seek

would quickly have the gift of a grave. The love of fair Olivia.

Sir T. By this hand, they are scoundrels, and subm Vio. What's she?

stractors, that say so of him. Who are they? Cap. A virtuous maid, the daughter of a count Mar. They that add moreover, he's drunk nighty in That died some twelve-month since; then leaving her | your company, In the protection of his son, her brother,

Sir T. With drinking healths to my niece; I'll Who shortly also died: for whose dear love,

drink to her, as long as there is a passage in my throat, They say, she hath abjur'd the company

and drink in Illyria : He's a coward, and a coystril, And sight of men.

that will not drink to my niece, till his brains turn of O, that I served that lady: the toe like a parish-top. What, wench? Castiliana And might not be delivered to the world,

vulgo; for here comes sir Andrew Ague-face. Till I had made mine own occasion mellow,

Enter Sir Andrew Ague-cheek. What my estate is,

Sir A. Sir Toby Belch! how now, sir Toby Belch ? Cap. That were hard to compass ;

Sir T. Sweet sir Andrew!
Because she will admit qo kind of suit,

Sir A. Bless you, fair shrew.
No, not the duke's.
Vio. There is a fair behaviour in thee, captain;

Mar. And you too, sir.
And though that nature with a beauteous wall

Sir T. Accost, sir Andrew, accost.

Sir A. What's that?
Doth oft close in pollution, yet of thee

Sir T. My niece's clramber-maid.
I will believe, thou hast a mind that suits
With this thy fair and outward character.

Sir A. Good mistress Accost, I desire better ac • I pray thee, and I'll pay thee bounteously,


Mar. My name is Mary, sir.
Conceal me what I am ; and be my aid

Șir A. Good mistress Mary Aceost,
For such disguise as, haply, shall become
The form of my intent. I'll serve this duke;

Sir T. You mistake, knight: accost, is, front her, Thou shalt present me as an eunuch to him,

board her, woo her, assail her. It may be worth thy pains; for I can sing,

Sir A. By my troth, I would not undertake her in And speak to him in many sorts of music,

this company. Is that the meaning of accost?

Mar. Fare you well, gentlemen. That will allow me very worth his service.

Sir T. An thou let part so, sir Andrew, 'would thou What else may hap, to time I will commit;

might'st never draw sword again. Only shape thou thy silence to my wit.

Sir A. An you part so, mistress, I would I might Cap. Be you his eunuch, and your mute I'll be:

never draw sword again. Fair lady, do you think you When my tongue blahs, then let mine eyes not see!

have fools in hand ? Vio. I thank thee : Lead me on. [Exeunt.

Mar. Sir, I have not you by the hand.

Sir A. Marry, but you shall have; and here's my SCENE III.- A Room in Olivia's House. Enter Sir

land. Toby Belch, and Maria.

Mar. Now, sir, thought is free: I pray you, bring Sir T. What a plague means my niece, to take the your hand to the buttery-bar, and let it drink. death of her brother thus? I am sure, care's an ene Sir A. Wherefore, sweet heart? what's your meta

phor? Mar. By my troth, sir Toby, you must come in ear Mar. It's dry, sir. ler o' nights; your cousin, my lady, takės great ex.

Sir A. Why, I think so; I am not such an ass, but ceptions to your ilt hours.

I can keep my hand dry. But what's your jest? Sir T. Why, let her except before excepted.

Mar. A dry jest, sir. Mar. Ay, but you must confine yourself within the Sir A. Are you full of them? modest limits of order.

Mar. Ay, sir; I have them at my fingen' ends : Sir T. Confine? I'll confine myself no finer than I marry, now I let go your hand, I am barren. am: these clothes are good enough to drink in, and

[Exit Man so be these boots too ; an they be not, let them hang Sir T. Oknight, thou lack'st a cup of canary: When themselves in their own straps.

did I see thee so put down? Mar. That quafling and drinking will undo you: I

Sir 1. Never in your life, I think ; unless you see heard my lady talk of it yesterday; and of a foolish canary put me down : Methinks, sometimes I have no knight, that you brought in one night here, to be her more wit than a christian, or an ordinary man has:

but I am a great eater of beef, and, I believe, that Sir T. Who? Sir Andrew'Ague-cheek?

does harm to my wit. Mor. Ay, he.

Sir T. No question. #Sir T. He's as tall a man as any's in Illyria.

Sir A. An I thought that, I'd forswear it. ru ride Mar. What's that to the purpose ?

hoine to-morrow, sir Toby. Sir T. Why, he has three thousand ducats a year. Sir T. Pourquoy, my dear knight?

my to life.


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Sår A. What is pourquoy? do or not do? I would And tell them, there thy fixed foot shall grow, I kad bestowed that time in the tongues, that I have Till thou have audience. in fencing, dancing, and bear-baiting: 0, had I but Vio.

Sure, my noble lord, followed the arts !

If she be so abandop'd to her sorrow Sir T. Then hadst thou had an excellent head of || As it is spoke, she never will admit me. hair.

Duke. Be clamorous, and leap all civil bounds, Sir A. Why, would that have mended my hair? Rather than make unprofited return.

Sir T. Past question; for thou seest, it will not curl Vio. Say, I do speak with her, my lord; What then? by nature.

Duke. O, then unfold the passion of my love, Sir A. But it becomes me well enough, does't not? Surprise her with discourse of my dear faith;

Sir T. Excellent; it hangs like flax on a distaff'; It sliall become thee well to act my woes : and I hope to see a house-wife take thee between her She will attend it better in thy youth, legs, and spin it off.

Than in a nuncio of more grave aspect. Sir A. 'Faith, I'll home to-morrow, sir Toby; your Vio. I think not so, my lord. nicce will not be seen; or, if she be, it's four to one, Duke.

Dear lad, believe it; sbe'll none of me: the count himself, here hard by, 1 For they shall yet belie thy happy years, woos her.

That say, thou art a man: Diana's lip Sir T. She'll none o' the count; she'll not mateb is not more smooth, and rubious ; thy small pipe above her degree, neither in estate, years, nor wit; I || Is as the maiden's organ, shrill, and sound, have heard her swear it. Tut, there's life in't, man. And all is semblative a woman's part.

Sir A. I'll stay a month louger. I am a fellow o' I know, thy constellation is right apt
the strangest mind i' the world ; I delight in masques For this affair:-Some four, or five, attend him;
and revels sometimes altogether.

All, if you will; for I myself am best,
Sir T. Art thou good at these kick-shaws, knight? || When least in compaoy:-Prosper well in this,

Sir A. As any man in Illyria, whatsoever he be, And thou shalt live as freely as thy lord,
under the degree of my betters; and yet I will not To call his fortunes thine.
compare with an old man,

Ill do my best, Sir T. What is thy excellence in a galliard, knight? To woo your lady: yet, [ Aside.] a barful strife! Sir A. 'Faith, I can cut a caper.

Whoe'er I woo, myself would be his wife. [Excunt. Sir T. And I can cut the mutton to't.

$CENE 1.-4 Room in Olivia's House. Enter M&Sir A. And, I think, I have the back-trick, simply

ria, and Clown. a strong as any man in Illyria. Sir T. Wherefore are these things hid? wherefore

Mar. Nay, either tell me where thou hast been, or bare these gifts a curtain before them ? are they like

I will not open my lips, so wide as a bristle may enter, to take dust, like mistress Mall's picture? why dost in way of thy excuse : my lady will hang thee for thy

absence. thou not go to church in a galliard, and come bome in a coranto? My very walk should be a jig; I would not

Clo. Let her hang me: he, that is well hanged in so much as make water, but in a sink-a-pace. What

this world, needs to fear no colours, dost thou mean? is it a world to hide virtues in? I did

Mar. Make that good. think, by the excellent constitution of thy leg, it was

Clo. He shall see none to fear. formed under the star of a galliard.

Mar. A good lenten answer: I can tell thee where Sir A. Ay, 'tis strong, and it does indifferent well that saying was born, of, I fear no colours. in a flame-coloured stock. Shall we set about some

Clo. Where, good mistress Mary? metels ?

Mar. In the wars; and that may you be bold to say Sir T. What shall we do else? were we not born

in your foolery. under Taurus ?

Clo. Well, God give them wisdom, that have it; and Sir A. Taurus ? that's sides and heart.

those that are fools, let them use their talents. Sir T. No, sir; it is legs and thighs. Let me see

Mar. Yet you will be hanged, for being so long abthæ caper : ha! higher: ha, ha !-excellent ! sent: or, to be tumed away; is not that as good as a

(Exeunt. hanging to you ?

Clo. Many a good hanging prevents a bad marriage ; SCENE IV-A Room in the Duke's Palace. Enter

and, for turning away, let summer bear it out. Valentine, and Viola in man's attire.

Mar. You are resolute then? Val. If the duke continue these favours towards you, Clo. Not so, neither; but I am resolved on two points. Cesaris, you are like to be much advanced; he hath Mar. That, if one break, the other will hold; or, if kwn you but three days, and already you are no both break, your gaskins fall.

Clo. Apt, in good faith ; very apt! Well, go thy Pia. You either fear his humour, or my negligence, I way; if sir Toby would leave drinking, thou wert as that yon call in question the continuance of his love: witty a piece of Eve's flesh as any in Illyria. in ne inconstant, sir, in his favours ?

Mar. Peace, you rogue, no more o'that; here comes Vel. No, belicve me.

my lady: make your excuse wisely, you were best. Enter Duke, Curio, and Attendants,

[Erit: Vis, I thank you. Here comes the count.

Enter Olivia, and Malvolio. Duke. Who saw Cesario, ho?

Cio. Wit, and't be thy will, put me into good foolPia On your attendance, my lord; here.

ing! Those wits, that think they have thee, do very · Duke. Stand you a while aloof.-Cesario,

oft prove fools; and I, that am sure I lack thee, may Thou know'st no less but all; I have unclaspå pass for a wise man : For what says Quinapalus? BetTo thee the book even of my secret soul :

ter a witty fool, than a foolish wit --God bless thee, Therefore, good youth, address thy gait unto her; lady! Be not deay'd access, stand at her door

Oli. Take the foot


[Exit Clown.

Oli. Speak to me, I shall answer for her: Your will!

Clo. Do you not hear, fellows? Take away the lady. ll Malvolio: if it be a suit from the count, I am sick,

Oli. Go to, you're a dry fool; I'll no more of you : ar not at home; what you will, to dismiss it. [Exit beşides, you grow dishonest.

Malvolio.)-Now yon see, sir, how your fooling grows Clo. Two faults, madonna, that drink and good coun- | old, and people dislike it. sel will amend : for give the dry fool drink, then is the Clo. Thou hast spoke for us, madonna, as if thy eldfool not dry; bid the dishonest mað mend himself; if est son should be a fool : whose skull Jove cram with he mend, he is no longer dishonest; if he cannot, let brains, for here he comes, one of thy kin, bas a most the botcher mend hion: Any thing, that's mended, is weak pia mater. but patched : virtue, that transgresses, is but patched

Enter Sir Toby Belch. with sin ; and, sin that amends, is but patched with Oli. By mine honour, half drunk.-What is he at virtue: If that this simple syllogism will serve, so; if the gate, cousin ? it will not, What remedy? As there is no true cuckold Sir T. A gentleman. but calamity, so beauty's a flower :-the lady bade take Oli. A gentleman? What gentleman ? away the fool; therefore, I say again, take her away. Sir T. 'Tis a gentleman here- A plague o'these Oli. Sir, I bade them take away you.

pickleherrings !-How now, sot? Clo. Nisprision in the highest degree !-Lady, to Clo. Good sir Toby, cullus non facit monachum; that's as much as to say, Oli. Cousin, cousin, how have you come so early by I wear not motley in my brain. Good madonna, give this lethargy? me leave to prove you a fool.

Sir T. Lechery! I defy lechery: There's one at the Oli. Can you do it?

gate. Clo. Dexteriously, good madonna.

Oli, Ay, marry; what is he? Oli. Make your proof.

Sir T. Let him be the devil, an he will, I care not: Clo. I must catechize you for it, madonna; Good

give me faith, say I. Well, it's all one. [Erit. my mouse of virtue, answer me.

Oli. What's a drunken man like, fool? Oli. Well, sir, for want of other idleness, I'll 'bide

Clo. Like a drown'd man, a fool, and a madman: your proof.

one draught above heat makes him a fool; the second Clo. Good madonna, why mourn'st thou?

mads him; and a third drowns him. Oli, Good fool, for my brother's death.

Oli. Go thog and seek the coroner, and let him sit Clo. I think, his soul is in hell, madonna.

o'my coz; for he's in the third degree of drink, he's Oli. I know, his soul is in heaven, fool.

drown'd: go, look after him. Clo. The more fool you, madonna, to mourn for

Clo. He is but mad yet, madonna ; and the fool shall your brother's soul being in heaven.- Take away the look to the madman. fool, gentlemen. Oli. What think you of this fool, Malvolio? doth be

Re-enter Malvolio. not mend?

Mal. Madam, yond young fellow swears he will Mal. Yes; and shall do, till the pangs of death

speak with you. I told him you were sick; he takes shake him: Infirmity, that decays the wise, doth ever

on him to understand so much, and therefore comes make the better fool.

to speak with you : I told him you were asleep; he Clo. God send you, sir, a speedy infirmity, for the

seems to have a fore-knowledge of that too, and there better increasing your folly ! Sir Toby will be sworn,

fore comes to speak with you. What is to be said to that I am no fox; but he will not pass his word for

him, lady? he's fortified against any denial. twopence that you are no fool.

Oli. Tell him, he shall not speak with me. Oll. How say you to that, Malvolio?

Mal. He has been told so; and he says, he'll stand Nal. I marvel your ladyship takes delight in such

at your door like a sheriff's post, and be the supporter a barren rascal ; I saw him put down the other day

of a bench, but he'll speak with you. with an ordinary fool, that has no more brain than a

Oli. What kind of man is he? stone. Look you now, he's out of his guard already ;

Mal. Why, of man kind. unless you laugh and minister occasion to him, he is

Oli. What manner of man? gagged. I protest, I tnke these wise men, that crow

Mal. Of very ill manner; he'll speak with ed at these set kind of fools, no better than the fools' you, or no. zanies.

Oli. Of what personage, and years, is he? Oli. O, you are sick of self-love, Malvolio, and taste Mal. Not yet old enough for a man, nor younger with a distemper'd appetite. To be generous, guilt- nough for a boy; as a squash is before 'tis a peasend, less, and of free disposition, is to take those things for or a codling when 'tis almost an apple: 'tis with him bird-bolts, that you deem cannon-bullets : There is no e'en standing water, between boy and man. He is slander in an allowed fool, though he do nothing but Very well-favoured, and he speaks very shrewishly; rail ; nor no railing in a known discreet man, though one would think his mother's milk were scarce out of he do nothing but reprove.

him. Clo, Now Mercury endue thee with leasing, for thou Oli. Let him approach : Call in my gentlewoman. speakest well of fools.

Mal. Gentlewoman, my lady calls.
Re-enter Maria,

Reventer Maria Mar. Madam, there is at the gate a young gentle. Oli. Give me my veil: come, throw ito'er my face ; man, much desires to speak with you.

We'll once more hcar Orsino's embassy. Oli. From the count Orsino, is it?

Enter Viola. Mar. I know not, madam : 'tis a fair young man, Vio. The honourable lady of the house, which is she? and well attended. Oli. Who of my people hold him in delay

Vio. Most radiant, exquisite, and upmatchable beatzMar. Sir Toby, madam, your kinsman.

19,- I pray you, tell me, if this be the lady of the Oli. Fetch him off, I pray you ; he speaks nothing

house, for I never saw her: I would be loath to cast but madman: Fie on him! (Exit Maria.]-Go you,

away my speech ; for, besides that it is excellently well




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pennd. I have taken great pains to con it. Good beau out divers schedules of my beauty : It shall be invencies, let me sustain no scorn; I am very comptible, toried; and every particle, and utensil, labelled to my eren to the least sinister usage.

will. As, item, two lips indifferent red; item,cwo grey Oli. Whence came you, sir?

eyes, with lids to them ; item, one neck, one chin, and vie. I can say little more than I have studied, and so forth. Were you sent hither to praise me? that question's out of my part. Good gentle one, give Vio. I see you what you are: you are too proud ; me modest assurance, if you be the lady of the house, || But, if you were the devil, you are fair. that I may proceel in my speech.

My lord and master loves you ; 0, such love Oli. Are you a comedian?

Could be but recompens'd, though you were crown'd Vio. No, my profound heart: and yet, by the very The nonpareil of beauty! fangs of malice, I swear, I am not that I play. Are Oli.

How does he love me? you the lady of the house?

Vio. With adorations, with fertile tears, Oli. If I do not usurp myself, I am.

With groans that thunder love, with sighs of fire. Vie. Most certain, if you are she, you do usurp your Oli. Your lord does know my inind, I cannot love self; for what is yours to bestow, is not yours to re biin : serve. But this is from my commission: I will on || Yet I suppose him virtuous, know him noble, with my speech in your praise, and then shew you the of great estate, of fresh and stainless youth ; heart of my message.

In voices well divulg'd, free, learn’d, and valiant, Oli. Come to what is important in't: I forgive you and, in dimension, and the shape of nature, the praise.

A gracious person : but yet I cannot love him; Via. Alas, I took great pains to study it, and 'tis pa He might have took his answer long ago. etical.

Vio. If I did love you in my master's flame, Oli. It is the more like to be feigned ; I pray you, With such a suffering, such a deadly life, keep it in. I hearl, you were saucy at my gates ; and In your denial I would find no sense, allowed your approach, rather to wonder at you than I would not understand it. to hear you. If you be not mad, be gone; if you have Oli.

Why, what would you ? rason, be brief: 'tis not that time of moon with me, Vio. Make me a willow cabin at your gate, to make one in so skipping a dialogue.

And call upon my soul within the house ;
Mar. Will you hoist sail, sir ? here lies your way. Write loyal cantons of contemned love,

Pia. No, good swabber; I am to hull here a little And sing them loud even in the dead of night;
longer-Some mollification for your giant, sweet lady. | Holla your name to the reverberate hills,
Oil. Tell me your mind.

And make the babbling gossip of the air vis. I am a messenger.

Cry out, Olivia ! O, you should not rest Oli. Sure, you have some hideous matter to deliver, Between the elements of air and earth, when the courtesy of it is so fearful. Speak your office. But you should pity me.

i'in It alone concerns your ear. I bring no over oli. You might do much : What is your parentage.
ture of war, no taxation of homage ; I hold the olive Vio. Above my fortunes, yet my state is well:
in my hand : my words are as full of peace as matter. I am a gentleman.
oli. Yet you began rudely. What are you? what

Get you to your lord; would you?

I cannot love him: let him send no more ;
Via. The rudeness, that hath appeared in me, have Unless, perchance, you come to me again,
I learn'd from my entertainment. What I am, and To tell me how he takes it. Fare you well:
what I would, are as secret as maiden-head: to your I thank you for your pains : spend this for me.
ears, divinity; to any other's, profanation.

Vio. I am no feed post, lady; keep your purse;
Oli. Give us the place alone: [Exit Mar.) we will My master, not myself, lacks recompense.
bear this divinity - Now, sir, what is your text? Love inakes his heart of flint, that you shall love;
Vie. Most sweet lady,

And let your fervour, like my master's, be
Oli. A comfortable doctrine, and much may be said | Placed in contempt! Farewell, fair cruelty. (Exit.
of it. Where lies your text?

Oli. What is your parentage? Vie. In Orsino's bosome

Above my fortunes, yet my state is well: 0l. In his bosom? In what chapter of his bosom? I am a gentleman.-I'll be sworn thou art;

Vio. To answer by the method, in the first of his | Thy tongue, thy face, thy limbs, actions, and spirit, heart.

Do give thee five-fold blazon :-Not too fast :-soft! Oli. O, I have read it; it is heresy. Have you no soft! more to say?

Unless the master were the man How now? Vito Good madam, let me see your face?

Even so quickly may one catch the plague? Oli. Have you any commission from your lord to ne- | Methinks, I feel this youth's perfections, gociate with my face? you are now out of your text: With an invisible and subtle stealth, but we will draw the curtain, and shew you the picture. || To creep in at mine eyes. Well, let it be.Look you, sir, such a one as I was this present: Is’t What, ho, Malvolio ! not well done?


Roenter Malvolio.
Fio. Excellently done, if God did all.
Oli. 'Tis in grain, sir ; 'twill endure wind and Mal. Here, madam, at your service.

Oli. Kun after that same peevish messenger,
Mio. 'Tis beauty truly blent, whose red and white The county's man: he left this rivg behind him,
Nature's own sweet and cunning hand laid on :

Would I, or not: tell him, I'll none of it. Lady, you are the cruell'st she alive,

Desire him not to flatter with his lord, If you will kad these graces to the grave,

Nor hold him up with hopes; I am not for him; And leave the world no cops.

If that the youth will come this way to

morrow, "O, #r, 1 , ill not be so hardt hearted; I will give 1 give him reasons før't. Hic thee, Malvoin


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thou spokest of Pigrogromitus, of the Vapians passing SCENE II.-A Street. Enter Viola ; Malvolio folo l the equinoctial of Queubus; 'twas very good, i'faith.

Clo. I did impeticos thy gratillity; for Malvolios nose is no whip-stock: My lady has a white hand, and

Sir A. Excellent! Why, this is the best fooling,
Sir T. Coine on; there is sixpence for you: let's

Sir A. There's a testril of we too: if one knight

Mal. Madam, I will

[Erit. come again in his affairs, unless it be to report your Oli. I do I know not what: and fear to find lord's taking of this. Receive it so. Mine eye too great a flatterer for my mind.

Vio. She took the ring of me; I'll none of it. Fate, shew thy force: Ourselves we do not owe; Mal. Come, sir, you peevishly threw it to her; and What is decreed, must be; and be this so. (Esrit. her will is, it should be so returned: if it be worth

stooping for, there it lies in your eye; if not, be it his that finds it.

[Erit. Vio. I left no ring with her; What means this lady? ACT II.

Fortune forbid, my outside have not charm'd her? SCENE I.The Sea-coast. Enter Antonio and Se.

She made good view of me; indeed, so much, bastian.

That, sure, methought, her eyes had lost her tongue Antonio.

For she did speak in starts distractedly.

She loves me, sure; the cunding of her passion WILL you stay no longer? nor will you not, that I

Invites me in this churlish messenger. go with you?

None of my lord's ring! why, he sent her none. Seb, By your patience, no: my stars shine darkly || I am the man ;--If it be so, (as ’tis,) over me; the malignancy of my fate might, perhaps, Poor lady, she were better love a dream. distemper yours; therefore I shall crave of you your

Disguise, I see thou art a wickedness, leave, that I may bear my evils alone: It were a bad

Wherein the pregnant enemy does muchi. recompense for your love, to lay any of them on you.

How easy is it, for the proper-false
Ant. Let me yet know of you, whither you are bound?
Seb. No, 'sooth, sir ; my determinate voyage is mere || Alas, our frailty is the cause, not we;

In women's waxen hearts to set their forms! extravagancy. But I perceive in you so excellent a

For, such as we are made of, such we be. touch of modesty, that you will not extort from me

How will this fadge? My master loves her dearly; what I am willing to keep in ; therefore it charges me

And I, poor monster, fond as much on him; in mamers the rather to express myself. You must

And she, mistaken, seems to dote on me: know of me, then, Antonio, my name is Sebastian,

What will become of this! As I am man, which I called Rodorigo ; my father was that Sebas. My state is desperate for my master's love; tian of Messaline, whom I know you have beard of:

As I am woman, now alas the day! he left behind him, myself, and a sister, both born in

What thriftless sighs shall poor Olivia breathe? an hour. If the heavens had been pleased, 'would we

O time, thou must untangle this, not I; had so ended! but you, sir, altered that; for, some

It is too hard a knot for me to untie.

(Exit. hour before you took me from the breach of the sea, was my sister drowned.

SCENE III.- A Room in Olivia's House. Enter Sir Ant. Alas, the day!

Toby Belch, and Sir Andrew Ague-cheek. Seb. A lady, sir, though it was said she much resem

Sir T. Approach, sir Andiew: not to be a-bed after bled me, was yet of many accounted beautiful: but, | midnight, is to be up betimes; and diluculo surgere, though I could pot, with such estimable wonder, over

thou know'st, far believe that, yet thus far I will boldly publish her, Sir A. Nay, by my troth, I know not : but I know, she bore a mind that envy could not but call fair: she

to be up late, is to be up late. is drowned already, sir, with salt water, though I seem

Sir T. A false conclusion; I hate it as an unfilled to drown her remembrance again with more. cann: To be up after midnight, and to go to bed then,

Ant. Pardon me, sir, your bad entertainment. is early ; so that, to go to bed after midnight, is to go Seb. O, good Antonio, forgive me your trouble. to bed betimes. Do not our lives consist of the four

Ant. If you will not murder me for my love, let me elements ? be your servant.

Sir 1. 'Faith, so they say; but, I think, it rather Sch. If you will not undo what you have done, that

consists of eating and drinking. is, kill him whom you have recovered, desire it not. Sir T. Thou art a scholar; let us therefore eat and Fare ye well at once: my bosor is full of kindness: rink.--Marian, I say !-a stoop of wine! and I am yet so near the manners of my mother, that

Enter Clown. upon the least occasion more, mine eyes will tell tales Sir A. IIere comes the fool, i'faith. of me. I am bound to the count Orsino's court: Fare Clo. How now, my hearts? Did you never see the well.

[Exit. || picture of we three? Ant. The gentleness of all the gods go with thee ! Sir T. Welcome, ass. Now let's have a catch. I have many enemies in Orsino's court,

Sir 4. By my troth, the fool has an excellent breast Else would I very shortly see thee there :

I had rather than forty shillings I had such a leg; and But, come what may, I do adore thee so,

50 sweet a breath to sing, as the fool has. In sooth, That danger shall seem sport, and I will go. {Exit. thou wast in very gracious fooling last night, when lowing

I sent thee sixpence for thy leman ; Hadst it?
Mal. Were not you even now with the countess
Olivia ?

Vio. Even now, sir; on a moderate pace I have the Myrmidons are no bottle-ale houses. since arrived but hither.

Mal. She returns this ring to you, sir; you might when all is done. Now, a song. have saved me my pains, to have taken it away yourself. She adds moreover, that you should put your lord into a l'esperate assurance she will done of him: And one thing more; that you be never so bardy to give a

have a song

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