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 pestilence ; That inftant was I turn'd into a hart,

And my defires, like fell and cruel hounds,

E'er fince purfue me. How now, what news from her?

'Enter Valentine.

Val. So pleafe 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 fhe would keep fresh And lafting in her fad remembrance.

Duke. O, fhe, that hath a heart of that fine frame, Το pay this debt of love but to a brother,

How will she love, when the rich golden fhaft
Hath kill'd the flock of all affections elfe

That live in her? when liver, brain, and heart,
Three fov'reign thrones, are all fupply'd, and fill'd,
(*O fweet perfection! )with one felf-fame King!
Away before me to fweet beds of flowers;
Love-thoughts lie rich, when canopy'd with bowers.
[Exeunt.

Enter Viola, a Captain and Sailors.

Vio. W Cap. Illyria, Lady.

HAT country, friends, is this?

Vio. And what fhould I do in Illyria?

Her fweet perfections!] We should read, and point it thus,
(0 fweet perfection!)

My

My brother he is in Elyftum.
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
Affure yourself, after our fhip did split, [chance,
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 strong maft, that liv'd upon the fea;
Where, like Arion on the dolphin's back,

I faw 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'ft 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. Orfino.

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 less will prattle of)
That he did feek the love of fair Olivia.

Vio. What's fhe?

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 whofe dear love,

They say, fhe hath abjur'd the fight

And company of men.

N 2

Vio.

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 estate is!

Cap. That were hard to compafs;

Because fhe 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 close 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 fhalt prefent me as an eunuch to him,
It may be worth thy pains; for I can fing,
And speak to him in many forts of mufic,
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
Vio. I thank thee; lead me on.

SCENE III.

eyes not fee.

An Apartment in Olivia's House.

Enter Sir Toby, and Maria.

Sir To. W

[Exeunt,

HAT a plague means my niece, to take the death of her brother thus? I

am 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.

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 clothes are good enough to drink in, and fo be these boots too; an they be not, let them hang themselves in their own ftraps.

Mar. That quaffing and drinking will undo you; I heard my lady talk of it yesterday, 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' purpofe?

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

Sir To. Fie, that you'll fay fo! he plays o'th' violdegambo,, and fpeaks three or four languages word 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 guft he hath in quarrelling, 'tis thought among the prúdent, 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?

Mar. They that add moreover, he's drunk nightly in your company.

Sir To. With drinking healths to my niece: I'll drink to her as long as there's a paffage in my throat, and drink in Illyria. He's a coward, and a coystril, that will not drink to my niece 'till his brains turn o'th' toe like a parish-top. What, wench? *Caftiliano Volto; for here comes Sir Andrew Ague-check.

Caftiliano vulgo ;] We fhould read volto. In English, put on your Caftilian Countenance; that is, your grave, folemn Looks.

N3

SCENE

IV.

Sir And.

SCENE

Enter Sir Andrew."

IR Toby Belch, how now, Sir Toby Beleh?
Sir To. Sweet Sir Andrew!

Sir And. Blefs you, fair fhrew.

Mar. And you too, Sir.

Sir To. Accoft, Sir Andrew, accoft.

Sir And. What's that?

Sir To. My niece's chamber-maid.

Sir And. Good miftrefs Accoft, I defire better acquaintance.

Mar. My name is Mary, Sir.

Sir And. Good miftrefs Mary Accost,

Sir To. You mistake, Knight: accost, is, front her, board her, woo her, affail her.

Sir And. By my troth, I would not undertake her in this company. Is that the meaning of accoft?...

Mar. Fare you well, gentlemen.

Sir To. An thou let her part fo, Sir Andrew, would thou might'ft never draw sword again.

Sir And. An you part fo, miftrefs, I would I might never draw fword again. Fair lady, do you think, you have fools in hand?

Mar. Sir, I have not you by th' hand.

Sir And. Marry, but you shall have, and here's my hand.

Mar. Now, Sir, thought is free: I pray you, bring your hand to th' buttery-bar, and let it drink.

Sir And. Wherefore, fweet heart? what's your metaphor?

Mar. It's dry, Sir.

Sir And. Why, I think fo: I am not such an ass, but I can keep my hand dry. But what's your jest? Mar. A dry jeft, Sir.

Sir And. Are you full of them?