TWELFTH-NIGHT:

OR,

WHAT YOU
YOU WILL.

I'

ACT I.

SCENE, the PALACE.

Enter the Duke, Curio, and Lords.

DUKE.

F mufick be the food of love, play on;
Give me excess of it; that, furfeiting,
The appetite may ficken, and fo die.
That ftrain again ;-it had a dying fall:
O, it came o'er my ear, like the fweet fouth,
That breathes upon a bank of violets,
Stealing, and giving odour. Enough!-
'Tis not fo fweet now, as it was before,
O fpirit of love, how quick and fresh art thou!
That, notwithstanding thy capacity

Receiveth as the fea, nought enters there,
Of what validity and pitch foe'er,
But falls into abatement and low price,
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-no more;

Even

Even in a minute; (1) fo full of fhapes in fancy,
That it alone is high fantastical.

Cur. Will you go hunt, my Lord?
Duke. What, Curio?

Cur. The hart.

Duke. Why, fo I do, the nobleft that I have:
O, when my eyes did fee Olivia first,

Methought, the purg'd the air of peftilence;
That inftant was I turn'd into a hart.

And my defires, like fell and cruel hounds,
E'er fince pursue me, How now, what news from her?
Enter Valentine.

Val. So please my Lord, I might not be admitted,
But from her hand-maid do return this answer:
The element itfelf, 'till feven years hence,
Shall not behold her face at ample view;
But, like a cloyftrefs, fhe will veiled walk,
And water once a day her chamber round
With eye-offending brine: all this to feafon
A brother's dead love, which he would keep fresh
And lafting in her fad remembrance.

Duke. O, fhe that hath a heart of that fine frame,

(1)

-fo full of shapes is fancy,

That it alone is high fantaftical.] Shakespeare has made his Po lonius (a character, which he defign'd fhould be receiv'd with laugh. ter) say,

-for to define true madness,

What is't. but to be nothing else but mad,

But there is no parity of reason why his Duke here, who is altogether ferious, and moralizing on the qualities of love, fhould tell us, that Fancy is alone the most fantaftical thing imaginable. I am perfuaded, the alteration of is into in has giv'n us the Poet's genuine meaning; that love is most fantastical, in being fo variable in its fancies. And Shakespeare every where fuppofes this to be the diftinguishing characteristic of this paffion. In his As You like it, where what it is to be in love is defin'd, amongst other marks we have this;

It is to be all made of fantasy.

And in the fame play, Rofalind, fpeaking of her lover, fays;

-If I could meet that fancy-monger, I would give him fome good counfel, for he feems to have the quotidian of love upon him. And a hundred other paffages might be quoted, did the matter re quire any proof, Mr. Warburton.

Το

To pay this debt of love but to a brother,
How will the love, when the rich golden shaft
Hath kill'd the flock of all affections elfe

That live in her? when liver, brain, and heart
These fov'reign thrones, are all fupply'd, and fill'd,
Her sweet perfections, with one self-fame King!
Away before me to fweet beds of flowers;
Love-thoughts lie rich, when canopy'd with bowers.

Vio.

SCENE, the Street.

Enter Viola, a Captain and Sailors. 'HAT country, friends, is this? Cap. Illyria, Lady.

WH

Vio. And what fhould I do in Illyria ? My brother he is in Elyfium.

[Exeunt

Perchance, he is not drown'd; what think you, failors
Cap. It is perchance, that you yourself were fav'd.
Vio. O my poor brother! fo, perchance, may he be.
Cap. True, Madam: and to comfort you with chance,
Affure yourself, after our fhip did fplit,

When you, and that poor number fav'd with you,
Hung on our driving boat: I faw your brother,
Moft provident in peril, bind himself

(Courage and Hope both teaching him the practice)
To a ftrong maft, that liv'd upon the sea ;
Where like Arion on the dolphin's back,

I saw him hold acquaintance with the waves,,
So long as I could fee.

Vio. For faying fo, there's gold.

Mine own escape unfoldeth to my hope,
Whereto thy fpeech ferves for authority,

The like of him. Know't thou this country?

Cap. Ay, Madam, well; for I was bred and born, Not three hours travel from this very place.

Vio. Who governs here ?

Cap A noble Duke in nature, as in name.
Vio. What is his name?
Cap. Orfine.

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Vio. Orfino! I have heard my father name him :
He was a bachelor then.

Cap. And fo is now, or was fo very late;
For but a month ago I went from hence,
And then 'twas fresh in murmur (as you know,
What great ones do, the lefs will prattle of)
That he did feek the love of fair Olivia.

Vio. What's the?

Cap. A virtuous maid, the daughter of a Count, That dy'd fome twelve months fince, then leaving her In the protection of his fon, her brother,

Who fhortly alfo dy'd; for whose dear love,

They fay, he hath abjur'd the fight

And company of men.

Vio. O, that I ferv'd that Lady,

And might not be deliver'd to the world,"
'Till I had made mine own occafion mellow
What my eftate is!

Cap. That were hard to compafs;

Because she will admit no kind of fuit,
No, not the Duke's.

Vio. There is a fair behaviour in thee, Captain;
And tho' that Nature with a beauteous wall
Doth oft clofe in pollution; yet of thee,

I will believe, thou haft a mind that fuits
With this thy fair and outward character :
I pr'ythee, and I'll pay thee bounteously,
Conceal me what I am, and be my aid
For fuch difguife as, haply, fhall become
The form of my intent. I'll ferve this Duke;
Thou shalt present me as an eunuch to him,
It may be worth thy pains; for I can fing,
And speak to him in many forts of musick,
That will allow me very worth his fervice.
What else may hap, to time I will commit;
Only shape thou thy filence to my wit.

Cap. Be you his eunuch, and your mute I'll be':
When my tongue blabs, then let mine eyes not fee.
Vio. I thank thee; lead me on.
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[Exeunt.

SCENE,

SCENE, an Apartment in Olivia's Houfe.

Enter Sir Toby, and Maria.

Sir To. W the death of her brother thus? I am

HAT a plague means my niece, to take

fure, care's an enemy to life.

Mar. By my troth, Sir Toby, you must come in earlier a-nights; your niece, my Lady, takes great exceptions to your ill hours.

Sir To. Why, let her except, before excepted.

Mar. Ay, but you must confine yourself within the modeft limits of order.

Sir To. Confine? I'll confine myself no finer than I am; these cloaths are good enough to drink in, and fo be these boots too; an they be not, let them hang themselves in their own straps.

Mar. That quaffing and drinking will undo you; I heard my Lady talk of it yefterday, and of a foolish knight that you brought in one night here, to be her

wooer?

Sir To. Who, Sir Andrew Ague-cheek?

Mar. Ay, he.

Sir To. He's as tall a man as any's in Illyria.
Mar. What's that to th' purpose ?

Sir To. Why he has three thousand ducats a year. Mar. Ay, but he'll have but a year in all these ducats he's a very fool, and a prodigal.

Sir To. Fy, that you'll fay fo! he plays o'th' violde-gambo, and fpeaks three or four languages wold for word without book, and hath all the good gifts of Nature.

-

Mar. He hath, indeed, almoft natural; for befides that he's a fool, he's a great quarreller; and but that he hath the gift of a coward to allay the gull he hath in quarrelling, 'tis thought among the prudent, he would quickly have the gift of a grave.

Sir To. By this hand, they are fcoundrels and fubtractors that fay fo of him. Who are they?

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Mar.