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Oli. What manner of man?
Oli. Yet you began rudely What are you? Mal. Of very ill manner; he'll speak with you, what would you? will you, or no.
Vio. The rudeness, that hath appear'd in me, Oli. Of what personage, and years, is he? have I learn'd from my entertainment. What I
Mal. Not yet old enough for a man, nor young am, and what I would, are as secret as maiden. enough for a boy; as a squash is before 'tis a peas- head: to your ears, divinity; to any other's, procod, or a codling when 'tis almost an apple; 'tis fanation. with him e'en standing water, between boy and Oli. Give us the place alone: we will hear this
He is very well favored, and he speaks very divinity. [Exit Maria.] Now, sir, what is your shrewishly; one would think, his mother's milk text? were scarce out of him.
Vio. Most sweet lady,—
Vio. In Orsino's bosom.
Oli. In his bosom? In what chapter of his bosom? Oli. Give me my veil: come, throw it o'er my
Vio. To answer by the method, in the first of face;
his heart. We'll once more hear Orsino's embassy.
Oli. O, I have read it; it is heresy. Have you Enter Viola.
no more to say ? Vio. The honorable lady of the house, which is
Vio. Good madam, let me see your face. she?
Oli. Have you any commission from your lord to Oli. Speak to me, I shall answer for her. Your negotiate with my face ? you are now out of your will ?
text: but we will draw the curtain, and show you Vio. Most radiant, exquisite, and unmatchable the picture. Look you, sir, such a one as I was beauty,–I pray you, tell me, if this be the lady this present:' Is't not well done? (Unveiling: of the house, for I never saw her: I would be loth Vio. Excellently done, if God did all. to cast away my speech; for, besides that it is ex Oli. "Tis in grain, sir; 'twill endure wind and cellently well penn'd, I have taken great pains to weather. con it. Good beauties, let me sustain no scorn: I Vio. "Tis beauty truly blent, whose red and white am very comptible, even to the least sinister Nature's own sweet and cunning hand laid on: usage.
Lady, you are the cruel’st she alive, Oli. Whence came you, sir ?
If you will lead these graces to the grave, Vio. I can say little more than I have studied, And leave the world no copy. and that question's out of my part. Good gentle
Oli. 0, sir, I will not be so hard-hearted; I will one, give me modest assurance, if you be the lady give out divers schedules of my beauty: It shall be of the house, that I may proceed in my speech.
inventoried; and every particle, and utensil, laOli. Are you a comedian?
belled to my will: as, item, two lips indifferent Vio. No, my profound heart: and yet, by the red; item, two grey eyes, with lids to them; item, very fangs of malice, I swear, I am not that I play. one neck, one chin, and so forth. Were you sent Are you the lady of the house?
hither to 'praise me? oli. If I do not usurp myself, I am.
Vio. I see you what you are; you are too proud; Vio. Most certain, if you are she, you do usurp But, if you were the devil, you are fair. yourself; for what is yours to bestow, is not youre My lord and master loves you; 0, such love
But this is from my commission: I Could be but recompens’d, though you were crown'd will on with my speech in your praise, and then The nonpareil of beauty! show you the heart of my message.
How does he love me? Oli. Come to what is important in't: I forgive
Vio. With adorations, with fertile tears, you the praise.
With groans that thunder love, with sighs of fire. Vio. Alas, I took great pains to study it, and 'tis
Oli. Your lord does know my mind, I cannot poetical.
love him : Oli. It is the more like to be feigned; I pray of great estate, of fresh and stainless youth;
him virtuous, know him noble, you, keep it in. I heard, you were saucy at my gates; and allowed your approach, rather to won- In voices well divulg'd,' free, learn'd, and valiant, der at you than to hear you. If you be not mad, And, in dimension, and the shape of nature, be gone; if you have reason, be brief; 'tis not that A gracious person : but yet I cannot love him; time of moon with me, to make one in so skipping. He might have took his answer long ago. a dialogue.
Vio. If I did love you in my master's flame, Mar. Will you hoist sail, sir ? here lies your way. With such a suffering, such a deadly life, Vio. No, good swabber; I am to hull here a
In your denial I would find no sense, little longer.—Some mollification for your giant," | I would not understand it. sweet lady.
Why, what would you? Oli. Tell me your mind.
Vio. Make me a willow cabin at your gate, Vio. I am a messenger.
And call upon my soul within the house Oli. Sure, you have some hideous matter to de- Write loyal cantons of contemned love, liver, when the courtesy of it is so fearful. Speak And sing them loud even in the dead of night;
Holla your name to the reverberate hills, Vio. It alone concerns your ear. I bring no
And make the babbling gossip of the air overture of war, no taxation of homage; I hold the Cry out, Olivia! 0, you should not rest olive in my hand : my words are as full of peace as
Between the elements of air and earth, matter.
But you should pity me.
Oli. You might do much: What is your parentage! : It appears from several parts of this play that the ori • Presents. > Well spoken of by the world. ginal actress of Maria was very short.
• Cantoes, verses.
Vio. Above my fortunes, yet my state is well: With an invisible and subtle stealth,
To creep in at mine eyes. Well, let it be.-
What, ho, Malvolio! -
Here, madam, at your service. I thank you for your pains; spend this for me. Oli. Run after that same peevish messenger,
Vio. I am no fee'd post, lady; keep your purse; The county's man: he left this ring behind him, My master, not myself, lacks recompense. Would I, or not; tell him, I'll none of it. Love make his heart of flint, that you shall love; Desire him not to flatter with his lord, And let your fervor, like my master's, be Nor hold him up with hopes; I am not for him. Plac'd in contempt! Farewell, fair cruelty. [Exit. If that the youth will come this way to-morrow, Oli. What is your parentage?
I'll give him reasons for't. Hie thee, Malvolio. Above my fortunes, yet my state is well:
Mal. Madam, I will.
[Erit. I am a gentleman -I'll be sworn thou art; Oli. I do I know not what: and fear to find Thy tongue, thy face, thy limbs, actions, and spirit, Mine eye too great a Aatterer for my mind. Do give thee five-fold blazon :-Not too fast: Fate, show thy force: Ourselves we do not
soft! soft! Unless the master were the man.-How now? What is decreed, must be; and be this so! Even so quickly may one catch the plague?
[Exit. Methinks, I feel this youth's perfections,
of them on you.
SCENE I.-The Sea-coast.
I have many enemies in Orsino's court,
Else would I very shortly see thee there:
But come what may, I do adore thee so,
SCENE II.-A Street. over me; the malignancy of my fate might, perhaps, distemper yours; therefore I shall crave of
Enter V101a; Malvolio following. you your leave, that I may bear my evils alone: Mal. Were not you even now with the countess It were a bad recompense for your love, to lay any
Vio. Even now, sir; on a moderate pace I have Ant. Let me yet know of you whither you are
since arrived but hither. bound.
Mal. She returns this ring to you, sir; you Seb. No, 'sooth, sir; my determinate voyage is might have saved me my pains, to have taken it mere extravagancy. But I perceive in you so ex- away yourself. She adus, moreover, that you should cellent a touch of modesty, that you will not extort put your lord into a desperate assurance she will from me what I am willing to keep in; therefore it none of him: And one thing more; that you be charges me in manners the rather to express myself. never so hardy to come again in his affairs, unless it You must know of me then, Antonio, my name is be to report your lord's taking of this. Receive it so. Sebastian, which I called Rodorigo: My father was
Vio. She took the ring of me; I'll none of it. that Sebastian of Messaline, whom, I know, you Mal. Come, sir, you peevishly threw it to her; have heard of: he left behind him, myself, and a and her will is, it should be so returned: if it be sister, both born in an hour. If the heavens had worth stooping for, there it lies in your eye; if not, been pleas’d, would we had so ended! but you, sir, be it his that finds it.
[Exit. alter'd that: for, some hour before you took me
Vio. I left no ring with her: What means this from the breach of the sea, was my sister drowned.
lady? Ant. Alas, the day !
Fortune forbid, my outside have not charm'd her! Seb. A lady, sir, though it was said she much re- She made good view of me; indeed, so much, sembled me, was yet of many accounted beautiful : That sure, methought, her eyes had lost her tongue, but, though I could not, with such estimable won- For she did speak in starts distractedly. der, overfar believe that, yet thus far I will boldly She loves me, sure; the cunning of her passion publish her, she bore a mind that envy could not Invites me in this churlish messenger. but call fair: she is drowned already, sir, with salt None of my lord's ring! why, he sent her none. water, though I seem to drown her remembrance I am the man;If it be so, (as 'tis,) again with more.
Poor lady, she were better love a dream.
Ant. If you will not murder me for my love, let How easy is it, for the proper-false me be your servant.
In women's waxen hearts to sct their forms! Seb. If you will not undo what you have done, Alas, our frailty is the cause, not we; that is, kill him whom you have recovered, desire For, such as we are made of, such we be. it not. Fare ye well at once: my bosom is full of How will this fadge?" My master loves her dearly; kindness; and I am yet so near the manners of And I, poor monster, fond as much on him; my mother, that upon the least occasion more, And she, mistaken, seems to dote on me: mine eyes will tell tales of me. I am bound to the What will become of this ? As I am man, count Orsino's court: farewell.
[Exit. My state is desperate for my master's love; Ant. The gentleness of all the gods go with thee: *Own, possess.
• Dexterous, ready, Suit.
As I am woman, now alas the day!
indeed? Shall we rouse the night-owl in a catch, What thriftless sighs shall poor Olivia breathe! that will draw three souls out of one weaver ? O time, thou must untangle this, not I;
Shall we do that? It is too hard a knot for me to untie. [Exit. Sir And. An you love me, let's do't: I am dog
at a catch. SCENE III-A Room in Olivia's House. Clo. By'r lady, sir, and some dogs will catch well.
Sir And. Most certain: let our catch be, Thou Enter Sir Toby Belch, and Sir ANDREW AGUE- knave.
Clo. Hold thy peace, thou knave, knight! I shall Sir To. Approach, sir Andrew : not to be a-bed be constrain’d in't to call thee knave, knight. after midnight, is to be up betimes; and diluculo Sir And. 'Tis not the first time I have consurgere, thou know'st,
strain'd one to call me knave. Begin, fool; it Sir And. Nay, by my troth, I know not: but I begins, Hold thy peace. know, to be up late, is to be up late.
Clo. I shall never begin, if I hold my peace. Sir To. A false conclusion: I hate it as an un- Sir And. Good, i' faith! Come, begin. filled can: To be up after midnight, and to go to
[They sing a catch. bed then, is early; so that, to go to bed after mid
Enter Maria. night, is to go to bed betimes. Do not our lives consist of the four elements ?
Mar. What a catterwauling do you keep here! If Sir And. 'Faith, so they say; but, I think, it my lady have not called up her steward, Malvolio, rather consists of eating and drinking.
and bid him turn you out of doors, never trust me. Sir To. Thou art a scholar; let us therefore eat Sir To. My lady's a Cataian,' we are politicians: and drink.—Maria, I say !
La stoop of wine! Malvolio's a Peg-a-Ramsey," and Three merry men Enter Clown.
we be. Am not I consanguineous? am I not of her Sir And. Here comes the fool.
blood? Tilly-valley, lady! There dwelt a man in
Babylon, lady, lady! Clo. How now, my hearts? Did you never see
Clo. Beshrew me, the knight's in admirable foolthe picture of we three ?"
ing. Sir To. Welcome, ass. Now let's have a catch.
Sir And. Ay, he does well enough, if he be disSir And. By my troth, the fool has an excellent breast.?. I had rather than forty shillings I had posed, and so do I too; he does it with a better such a leg; and so sweet a breath to sing, as the grace, but I do it more natural. fool has. In sooth, thou wast in very gracious
Sir To. O the twelfth day of December,—[Sing
ing fooling last night, when thou spokest of Pigrogro- Mar. For the love of God, peace. mitus, of the Vapians passing the equinoctial of Queubus; 'twas very good, i' faith. I sent thee six
Enter MaLVOLIO. pence for thy leman: hadst it?
Mal. My masters, are you mad? or what are Clo. I did impeticos thy gratillity;- for Mal- you? Have you no wit, manners, nor honesty, but volio's nose is no whipstock: my lady has a white to gabble like tinkers at this time of night? Do ye hand, and the Myrmidons are no bottle-ale houses. make an ale-house of my lady's house, that ye Sir And. Excellent! Why, this is the best fool- squeak out your coziers' catches without any
miing, when all is done. Now, a song.
tigation or remorse of voice?
Is there no respect Sir To. Come on; there is a sixpence for you: of place, persons, nor time, in you? let's have a song.
Sir To. We did keep time, sir, in our catches. Sir And. There's a testril of me too; if one Sneck up!" knight give a
Mal. Sir Toby, I must be round with you. My Clo. Would you have a love-song, or a song of lady bade me tell you, that, though she harbors good life?
you as her kinsman, she's nothing allied to your Sir To. A love-song, a love-song.
disorders. If you can separate yourself and your Sir And. Ay, ay; I care not for good life. misdemeanors, you are welcome to the house; if SONG.
not, an it would please you to take leave of her, Clo. O mistress mine, where are you roaming?
she is very willing to bid you farewell. O stay and hear; your true love's coming, needs be gone.
Sir To. Farewell, dear heart, since I must
Mar. Nay, good sir Toby
Clo. His eyes do show his days are almost done.
Mal. Is't even so?
Sir To. But I will nerer die.
Clo. Sir Toby, there you lie. Sir To. Good, good.
Mal. This is much credit to you.
Sir To. Shall I bid him go? [Singing Clo. What is love? 'tis not hereafter;
Clo. What an if you do?
Clo. O no, no, no, no, you dare not.
Sir To. Out o' time? sir, ye lie.-Art any more Then come kiss me, sweet-and-twenty, than a steward? Dost thou think, because thou Youth's a stuff will not endure.
art virtuous, there shall be no more cakes and ale? Sir And. A mellifluous voice, as I am true knight. Clo. Yes, by saint Anne; and ginger shall be Sir To. A contagious breath.
hot i' the mouth too. Sir And. Very sweet and contagious, i' faith. Sir To. Thou'rt i’ the right.-Go, sir, rub your
Sir To. To hear by the nose, it is dulcet in con- chain with crums:-A stoop of wine, Maria! tagion. But shall we make the welkin dance
& Name of an old song. 1 Loggerheads be.
* Equivalent to filly-fally, shilly-shally. 3 Mistress. * I did impetticoat thy gratuity.
• Hang yourself
Mal. Mistress Mary, if you prized my lady's Sir And. If I do not, never trust me, take it favor at any thing more than contempt, you would how you will. not give means for this uncivil rule; she shall know Sir To. Come, come; I'll go burn some sack, of it, by this hand.
'tis too late to go to bed now: come, knight; come, Mar. Go shake your ears.
[Exeunt. Sir And. "T'were as good a deed as to drink when a man's a hungry, to challenge him to the field; and SCENE IV-A Room in the Duke's Palace. then to break promise with him, and make a fool of him.
Enter DUKE, VIOLa, Curio, and others. Sir To. Do't, knight; I'll write thee a chal
Duke. Give me some music :-Now, good lenge; or I'll deliver thy indignation to him by
morrow, friends :word of mouth.
Now, good Cesario, but that piece of song, Mar. Sweet sir Toby, be patient for to-night: That old and antique song we heard last night; since the youth of the count's was to-day with my Methought, it did relieve my passion much; lady, she is much out of quiet. For monsieur More than light airs and recollected terms Malvolio, let me alone with him: if I do not gull of these most brisk and giddy-paced times :him into a nay-word,' and make him a common
Come, but one verse. recreation, do not think I have wit enough to lie
Cur. He is not here, so please your lordship, straight in my bed: I know, I can do it.
that should sing it. Sir To. Possess us,' possess us; tell us some Duke. Who was it? thing of him.
Cur. Feste, the jester, my lord; a fool, that the Mar. Marry, sir, sometimes he is a kind of Puritan. Sir And. O, if I thought that, I'd beat him like lady Olivia's father took much delight in: he is
about the house. a dog.
Duke. Seek him out, and play the tune the while. Sir To. What, for being a Puritan? thy exqui
(Exit Cur10.— Music. site reason, dear knight? Sir And. I have no exquisite reason for’t, but I In the sweet pangs of it, remember me:
Come hither, boy: If ever thou shalt love, have reason good enough.
For, such as I am, all true lovers are ; Mar. The devil a Puritan that he is, or any thing Unstaid and skittish in all motions else, constantly but a time-pleaser; an affectioned ass, Save, in that constant image of the creature that cons state without book, and utters it by great That is belov'd.—How dost thou like this tune? swarths: the best persuaded of himself, so cram
Vio. It gives a very echo to the seat med, as he thinks, with excellencies, that it is his Where Love is thron’d. ground of faith, that all, that look on him, love
Duke. Thou dost speak masterly: him; and on that vice in him will my revenge find My life upon't, young though thou art, thine eye notable cause to work.
Hath stay'd upon some favor that it loves; Sir To. What wilt thou do?
Hath it not, boy? Mar. I will drop in his way some obscure epistles
A little, by your favor. of love; wherein by the color of his beard, the
Duke. What kind of woman is't? shape of his leg, the manner of his gait, the expres Vio.
Of your complexion. sure of his eye, forehead, and complexion, he shall
Duke. She is not worth thee, then. What years, find himself most feelingly personated : I can write
i'faith? very like my lady, your niece; on a forgotten matter
Vio. About your years, my lord. we can hardly make distinction of our hands.
Duke. Too old, by heaven; Let still the woman Sir To. Excellent! I smell a device.
take Sir And. I have't in my nose too.
An elder than herself; so wears she to him, Sir To. He shall think, by the letters that thou So sways she level in her husband's heart. wilt drop, that they come from my niece, and that For, boy, however we do praise ourselves, she is in love with him.
Our fancies are more giddy and unfirm, Mar. My purpose is, indeed, a horse of that color. More longing, wavering, sooner lost and worn, Sir And. 'And your horse now would make him Than women's are.
I think it well, my lord. Mar. Ass, I doubt not.
Duke. Then let thy love be younger than thyself, Sir And. O, 'twill be admirable.
Or thy affection cannot hold the bent: Mar. Sport royal, I warrant you: I know, my For women are as roses; whose fair flower, physic will work with him. I will plant you two, and Being once display'd, doth fall that very hour. let the fool make a third, where he shall find the let
Vio. And so they are: alas, that they are so; ter; observe his construction of it. For this night, To die, even when they to perfection grow! to bed, and dream on the event. Farewell. [Exit. Sir To. Good night, Penthesilea."
Re-enter Corio and Clows.
Duke. O, fellow, come, the song we had last adores me: What o'that?
night Sir And. I was adored once too.
Mark it, Cesario; it is old, and plain: Sir To. Let's to bed, knight. Thou hadst need The spinsters and the knitters in the sun, send for more money.
And the free maids that weave their thread with Sir And. If I cannot recover your niece, I am a
bones, foul way out.
Do use to chaunt it; it is silly sooth, Sir To. Send for money, knight; if thou hast And dallies with the innocence of love,
Like the old age. her not i’ the end, call me Cut.
Clo. Are you ready, sir ? 1 Bye-word.
Duke. Ay; pr’ythee, sing.
[Music. 3 The row of grass left by a mower. • Amazon.
e Simple truth.
Smiling at grief. Was not this love, indeed ? Clo. Come away, come away, death,
We men may say more, swear more: but, indeed,
Our shows are more than will; for still we prove And in sad cypress let me be laid;
Much in our vows, but little in our love, Fly away, fly away, breath;
Duke. But died thy sister of her love, my boy? I am slain by a fair cruel maid.
Vio. I am all the daughters of my father's house, My shroud of white, stuck all with yew,
And all the brothers too ;-and yet I know not:0, prepare it;
Sir, shall I to this lady? My part of death, no one so true
Ay, that's the theme.
To her in haste; give her this jewel; say,
My love can give no place, bide no denay.*
[Ereunt. Not a friend, not a friend greet My poor corpse, where my bones shall be thrown:
SCENE V.-Olivia's Garden.
Enter Sir Toby BELCA, Sir ANDREW AGUESad true lover ne'er find my grave,
CHEEK, and Fabian.
Sir To. Come thy ways, signior Fabian.
Fab. Nay, I'll come; if I lose a scruple of this Clo. No pains, sir; I take pleasure in singing, sir. sport, let me be boiled to death with melancholy. Duke. I'll pay thy pleasure, then.
Sir To. Would'st thou not be glad to have the Clo. Truly, sir, and pleasure will be paid, one niggardly rascally sheep-biter come by some notable time or another.
shame? Duke. Give me now leave to leave thee.
Fab. I would exult, man: you know, he brought Clo. Now, the melancholy god protect thee; and me out of favor with my lady, about a bear-baiting the tailor make thy doublet of changeable taffeta, here. for thy mind is a very opal.— I would have men of Sir To. To anger him, we'll have the bear again; such constancy put to sea, that their business might and we will fool him black and blue:-Shall we be every thing, and their intent every where; for not, sir Andrew ? that's it, that always makes a good voyage of no Sir And. An we do not, it is pity of our lives. thing.–Farewell.
Enter MARIA. Duke. Let all the rest give place.
Sir To. Here comes the little villain :—How [Exeunt Curio and Attendants. Once more, Cesario,
now, my nettle of India ? Get thee to yon' same sovereign cruelty:
Mar. Get ye all three into the box-tree: Mal.
volio's coming down this walk; he has been yonder Tell her, my love, more noble than the world,
i’ the sun, practising behavior to his own shadow, Prizes not quantity of dirty lands;
this half hour: observe him, for the love of mockery; The parts that fortune hath bestow'd upon her,
for, I know, this letter will make a contemplative Tell her, I hold as giddily as fortune; But 'tis that miracle, and queen of gems,
idiot of him. Close, in the name of jesting! [The
men hide themselves.] Lie thou there ; [Throws That nature pranks' her in, attracts my soul.
down a letter,] for here comes the trout that must Vio. But, if she cannot love you, sir ?
be caught with tickling. Duke. I cannot be so answer'd.
[Exit Maria. Vio. 'Sooth, but you must.
Enter Malvolio. Say, that some lady, as, perhaps, there is,
Mal. "Tis but fortune; all is fortune. Maria Hath for your love as great a pang of heart once told me, she did affect me: and I have heard As you have for Olivia: you cannot love her; herself come thus near, that, should she fancy, it You tell her so; Must she not then be answer’d? should be one of my complexion. Besides, she uses Duke. There is no woman's sides
me with a more exalted respect than any one else Can bide the beating of so strong a passion that follows her. What should I think on't? As love doth give my heart: no woman's heart Sir To. Here's an overweening rogue! So big, to hold so much; they lack retention. Fab. O, peace! Contemplation makes a rare Alas, their love may be call'd appetite,
turkey-cock of him; how he jets' under his adNo motion of the liver, but the palate,
vanced plumes! That suffer surfeit, cloyment, and revolt;
Sir And. 'Slight, I could so beat the rogue:But mine is all as hungry as the sea,
Sir To. Peace, I say. And can digest as much: make no compare
Mal. To be count Malvolio;Between that love a woman can bear me,
Sir To. Ah, rogue! And that I owe Olivia.
Sir And. Pistol him, pistol him. Vio.
Ay, but I know, Sir To. Peace, peace! Duke. What dost thou know?
Mal. There is example for't; the lady of the Vio. Too well what love women to men may owe: strachy married the yeoman of the wardrobe. In faith, they are as true of heart as we.
Sir And. Fie on him, Jezebel! My father had a daughter lov'd a man,
Fab. O, peace! now he's deeply in, look, how As it might be, perhaps, were I a woman, imagination blows him. I should your lordship.
Mal. Having been three months married to her, Duke.
And what's her history? sitting in my state,Vio. A blank, my lord: She never told her love, Sir To. Ó, for a stone-bow, to hit him in the eye! But let concealment, like a worm i’ the bud, Mal. Calling my officers about me, in my branchFeed on her damask cheek: she pin'd in thought: ed velvet gown; having come from a day-bed, where And, with a green and yellow melancholy,
I left Olivia sleeping. She sat like patience on a monument,
Sir To. Fire and brimstone! + Decks.