« PreviousContinue »
Mar. Sweet Sir Toby, be patient for to-night; since the youth of the count's was to-day with my lady, she is much out of quiet. For monsieur Malvolio, let me alone with him: if I do not gull him into a nayword, and make him a common recreation, do not think I have wit enough to lie straight in my bed: I know I can do it.
Sir To. Possess us, possess us; tell us something of him.
Mar. Marry, sir, sometimes he is a kind of Puritan.
Sir And. O, if I thought that, I'd beat him like a dog.
Sir To. What, for being a Puritan ? thy exquisite reason, dear knight?
Sir And. I have no exquisite reason for’t, but I have reason good enough.
Mar. The devil a Puritan that he is, or any thing constantly but a time pleaser; an affectioned? ass, that cons state without book, and utters it by great swaths: the best persuaded of himself, so crammed, as he thinks, with excellences, 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 color 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. Excellent! 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 color.
Sir And. And your horse now would make him
Mar. Ass, I doubt not.
Mar. Sport royal, I warrant you: I know, my physic 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. Farewell.
[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 hadst need send for more money.
Sir And. If I cannot recover your niece, I am a foul way out.
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
Sir To. Come, come; I'll go burn some sack; 'tis too late to go to bed now: come, knight; come, knight.
SCENE IV. A Room in the Duke's Palace.
Enter DUKE, VIOLA, CURIO, and others.
1 i. e. Call me a gelding : this was a common expression of reproach.
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.
Vio. It gives a very echo to the seat
Thou dost speak masterly:
A little, by your favor.
Of your complexion. Duke. She is not worth thee, then. What years,
i’faith? Vio. About your years, my lord.
Duke. Too old, by heaven: Let still the woman take An elder than herself; so wears she to him, So sways she level in her husband's heart. For, boy, however we do praise ourselves, Our fancies are more giddy and unfirm, More longing, wavering, sooner lost and worn, Than women's are. Vio
I think it well, my lord. . Duke. Then let thy love be younger than thyself, Or thy affection cannot hold the bent: For women are as roses; whose fair flower, Being once displayed, doth fall that very hour.
1 i. e. consumed, worn out.
Vio. And so they are: alas, that they are so ; To die, even when they to perfection grow!
Re-enter CURIO and Clown.
Duke. O fellow, come, the song we had last night:
Clo. Are you ready, sir ?
Clo. Come away, come away, death,
And in sad cypress let me be laid;
Fly away, fly away, breath ;
O, prepare it;
Did share it.
Not a friend, not a friend greet
Lay me, 0, where
Duke. There's for thy pains.
1 Merry, gay,
? Silly sooth is simple truth. 3 The old age is the ages past, times of simplicity.
Clo. Truly, sir, and pleasure will be paid one time or another.
Duke. Give me now leave to leave thee.
Clo. Now, the melancholy god protect thee; and the tailor make thy doublet of changeable taffeta, for thy mind is a very opal.2-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.---Farewell.
[Exit Clown, Duke. Let all the rest give place.
[Exeunt Curio and Attendants.
Once more, Cesario, Get thee to yon' same sovereign cruelty : Tell her, my love, more noble than the world, Prizes not quantity of dirty lands; The parts that fortune hath bestowed 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 ?
"Sooth, but you must
Duke. There is no woman's sides
1 This is probably an error of the press, and should read, " I give thee now leave to leave me.
2 The opal is a gem which varies its hues, as it is viewed in different lights.