for this: I'll none of him. Dia. in you it best lies; otherwise a seducer flourishes, | And I had that which any inferior might and a poor maid is undone. DIANA CAPULET.' At market-price have bought. Laf. I will buy me a son-in-law in a fair, and toll you, that have turn'd off a first so noble wife, I must be patient; May justly diet me. I pray you yet, (Since you lack virtue I will lose a husband,) Send for your ring, I will return it home, Ber. I have it not. And give me mine again. King. What ring was yours, I pray you? Dia, Sir, much like the same upon your finger. King. Know you this ring? this ring was his of late. [Lafeu, King. The heavens have thought well on thee, To bring forth this discovery.-Seek these suitors: Go speedily, and bring again the count. [Exeunt the Astringer and some Attendants. I am afeard the life of Helen, lady, Was foully snatch'd. Count. Now, justice on the doers! Enter Bertram, guarded. King. I wonder, sir, since wives are monsters to you, And that you fly them as you swear them lordship, Laf. Your reputation [to Bertram] comes too short ness Lay a more noble thought upon mine honour, Count. He blushes, and 't is his: Methought, you said, You saw one here in court could witness it. Dia. I did, my lord, but loath am to produce So bad an instrument; his name 's Parolles. Laf. I saw the man to-day, if man he be. King. Find him, and bring him hither. Ber. What of him? He's quoted for a most perfidious slave, King Dia. And this was it I gave him, being a-bed. King. The story then goes false, you threw it him Out of a casement. Dia. I have spoke the truth. Enter Parolles. Ber. My lord, I do confess the ring was hers. King. You boggle shrewdly, every feather starts Is this the man you speak of? [you.Dia. Ay, my lord. King. Tell me, sirrah, but tell me true, I charge Not fearing the displeasure of your master, [you, (Which, on your just proceeding I'll keep off,) By him, and by this woman here, what know you? Par. So please your majesty, my master hath been an honourable gentleman; tricks he hath had in him which gentlemen have. King. Come, come, to the purpose: Did he love this woman? [woman. Par. 'Faith, sir, he did love her But how? Par. He loved her, sir, and loved her not. Par. I am a poor man, and at your majesty's command. [orator. Laf. He's a good drum, my lord, but a naughty Dia. Do you know he promised me marriage? Par. 'Faith, I know more than I'll speak. King. But wilt thou not speak all thou know'st? Par. Yes, so please your majesty: I did go between them, as I said; but more than that, he loved her,-for, indeed, he was mad for her, and talked of Satan, and of limbo, and of furies, and I know not what yet I was in that credit with them at that time, that I knew of their going to bed; and of other motions, as promising her marriage, and things which would derive me ill will to speak of, therefore I will not speak what I know. King. Thou hast spoken all already, unless thou canst say they are married: But thou art too fine in thy evidence; therefore stand aside.-This ring, you say, was yours? Dia. Ay, my good lord. King. Where did you buy it? or who gave it you? Dia. It was not given me, nor I did not buy it. King. Who lent it you? Dia. king. This ring was mine, I gave it his first wife. I'll never tell you. King. Take her away. while? Dia. Because he 's guilty, and he is not guilty: He knows I am no maid, and he 'll swear to 't: I'll swear I am a maid, and he knows not. Great king, I am no strumpet, by my life;. I am either maid, or else this old man's wife. King Re-enter Widow, with Helena. Is there no exorcist Beguiles the truer office of mine eyes? Is 't real that I see? Hel. No, my good lord; 'T is but the shadow of a wife you see, The naine, and not the thing. Ber. Both, both; O, pardon! Hel. O, my good lord, when I was like this maid, I found you wond'rous kind. There is your ring, And, look you, here 's your letter; This it says, 'When from my finger you can get this ring, And are by me with child,' &c.-This is done: Will you be mine, now you are doubly won? Ber. If she,iny liege, can make me know this clearly, I'll love her dearly, ever, ever dearly. King. Let us from point to point this story know, (Advancing.) The king's a beggar, now the play is done: All is well ended, if this suit be won, That you express content; which we will pay, With strife to please you, day exceeding day: Ours be your patience then, and yours our parts; Your gentle hands lend us, and take our hearts. [Exeunt. TWELFTH NIGHT; ORSINO, Duke of Illyria. SEBASTIAN, a young gentleman, brother to Viola. ANTONIO, a sea-captain, friend to Sebastian. PERSONS REPRESENTED. Sir TOBY BELCH, uncle of Olivia. | MARIA, Olivia's woman. Clown, } servants to Olivia. A sea-captain, friend to Viola. ACT I. SCENE I.-An Apartment in the Duke's Palace. Of what validity and pitch soe'er, But falls into abatement and low price, no more; Lords, Priests, Sailors, Officers, Musicians, and other Attend ants. SCENE.-A City in ILLYRIA, and the Sea-coast near it. The element itself, till seven years' heat, Duke. O, she that hath a heart of that fine frame, SCENE II.The Sea-coast. [sailors? This is Illyria, lady. Vio. And what should I do in Illyria? My brother he is in Elysium. Perchance he is not drown'd:-What think you, Cap. It is perchance that you yourself were sav'd. Vio. O my poor brother! and so, perchance, may he be. [chance, Cap. True, madam; and, to comfort you with Assure yourself, after our ship did split, When you, and those poor number sav'd with you, Hung on our driving boat, I saw your brother, Vio. Cap. A noble duke, in nature as in name. Vio. Orsino! I have heard my father name him: Cap. And so is now, or was so very late: And then 't was fresh in murmur, (as, you know, Vio. What 's she? Cap. A virtuous maid, the daughter of a count That died some twelvemonth since; then leaving her In the protection of his son, her brother, Who shortly also died: for whose dear love, They say, she hath abjur'd the company And sight of men. Vio. O, that I serv'd that lady: And might not be deliver'd to the world, Till I had made mine own occasion mellow What my estate is. Cap. That were hard to compass; Because she will admit no kind of suit, No, not the duke's. Vio. There is a fair behaviour in thee, captain; And though that nature with a beauteous wall Doth oft close in pollution, yet of thee I will believe thou hast a mind that suits SCENE III.-A Room in Olivia's House. Sir To. What a plague means my niece, to take the death of her brother thus? I am sure care 's an enemy to life. Mar. By my troth, sir Toby, you must come in earlier o' nights; your cousin, 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 modest limits of order. Sir To. Confine? I'll confine myself no finer than I am: these clothes are good enough to drink in, and so 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 yesterday; and of a foolish knight, that you brought in one night here, to be her wooer. Sir To. Who? Sir Andrew Ague-cheek? Sir To. He's as tall a man as any 's in Illyria. Sir To. Fie, that you 'll say so! he plays o' the viol-de-gamboys, and speaks three or four languages |word for word without book, and hath all the good gifts of nature. Mar. He hath, indeed, almost natural: for besides that he 's a fool, he's a great quarreller; and but that he hath the gift of a coward to allay the gust he hath in quarrelling, 't is thought among the prudent he would quickly have the gift of a grave. Sir To. By this hand, they are scoundrels and subtractors that say so 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 is a passage 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' the toe like a parish-top. What, wench? Castiliano-vulgo; for here comes sir Andrew Ague face. Enter Sir Andrew Ague-cheek. Sir And. Sir Toby Belch! how now, sir Toby Sir And. Bless you, fair shrew. Sir To. Accost, sir Andrew, accost. Sir To. My niece's chamber-maid. Sir And. Good mistress Accost, I desire better Mar. My name is Mary, sir. facquaintance. Sir And. Good mistress Mary Accost,Sir To. You mistake, knight; accost is, front her, board her, woo her, assail her. Sir And. By my troth, I would not undertake her in this company. Is that the meaning of accost? Mar. Fare you well, gentlemen. Sir To. An thou let part so, sir Andrew, 'would thou might'st never draw sword again. Sir And. An you part so, mistress, I would I might never draw sword again. Fair lady, do you think you have fools in hand? Mar. Sir, I have not you by the hand. [my hand. Sir And. Marry, but you shall have; and here's Mar. Now, sir, thought is free: I pray you, bring your hand to the buttery-bar, and let it drink. Sir And. Wherefore, sweetheart? what 's your Mar. It's dry, sir. [metaphor? Sir And. Why, I think so; I am not such an ass but I can keep my hand dry. But what 's your jest? Mar. A dry jest, sir. Sir And. Are you full of them? Mar. Ay, sir; I have them at my fingers' ends: marry, now I let go your hand I am barren. [Exit Maria. Sir To. O knight, thou lack'st a cup of canary: When did I see thee so put down? Sir And. Never in your life, I think; unless you see canary put me down: Methinks sometimes I have no more wit than a Christian, or an ordinary man has: but I am a great eater of beef, and I believe that does harm to my wit. Sir To. No question. Sir And. An I thought that, I'd forswear it. I'll ride home to-morrow, sir Toby. Sir To. Pourquoy, my dear knight? Sir And. What is pourquoy? do or not do? I would I had bestowed that time in the tongues that I have in fencing, dancing, and bear-baiting: O, had I but followed the arts! [hair. Sir To. Then hadst thou had an excellent head of Sir And. Why, would that have mended my hair? Sir To. Past question; for thou seest it will not curl by nature. [not? Sir And. But it becomes me well enough, does 't Sir To. Excellent; it hangs like flax on a distaff; and I hope to see a housewife take thee between her legs, and spin it off. Sir And. 'Faith, I'll home to-morrow, sir Toby; your niece will not be seen; or, if she be, it 's four to one she 'll none of me: the count himself, here hard by, woos her. Sir To. She 'll none o' the count; she 'll not match above her degree, neither in estate, years, nor wit; I have heard her swear it. Tut, there's life in 't, man. Sir And. I'll stay a month longer. I am a fellow o' the strangest mind i' the world; I delight in masques and revels sometimes altogether. Sir To. Art thou good at these kickshaws, knight? Sir And. As any man in Illyria, whatsoever he be, under the degree of my betters; and yet I will not compare with an old man. Sir To. What is thy excellence in a galliard, knight? Sir And. 'Faith, I can cut a caper. Sir To. And I can cut the mutton to 't. Sir And. And, I think, I have the back-trick, simply as strong as any man in Illyria. Sir To. Wherefore are these things hid? wherefore have these gifts a curtain before them? are they like to take dust, like mistress Mall's picture? why dost thou not go to church in a galliard, and come home in a coranto? My very walk should be a jig; I would not so much as make water but in a sink-a-pace. What dost thou mean? is it a world to hide virtues in? I did think, by the excellent constitution of thy leg, it was formed under the star of a galliard. Sir And. Ay, 't is strong, and it does indifferent well in a damask-coloured stock. Shall we set about some revels? Sir To. What shall we do else? were we not born under Taurus? Sir And. Taurus? that 's sides and heart. Sir To. No, sir; it is legs and thighs. Let me see thee caper: ha! higher: ha, ha!-excellent! [Exeunt. SCENE IV.-A Room in the Duke's Palace. Enter Valentine, and Viola in man's attire. Val. If the duke continue these favours towards you, Cesario, you are like to be much advanced; he hath known you but three days, and already you are no stranger. Vio. You either fear his humour, or my negligence, that you call in question the continuance of his love: Is he inconstant, sir, in his favours? Val. No, believe me. Enter Duke, Curio, and Attendants. Vio. I thank you. Here comes the count. Duke. Who saw Cesario, ho? Vio. On your attendance, my lord; here. Duke. Stand you awhile aloof.-Cesario, Thou know'st no less but all; I have unclasp'd To thee the book even of my secret soul: Therefore, good youth, address thy gait unto her; Be not denied access, stand at her doors, And tell them, there thy fixed foot shall grow, Till thou have audience. Vio. [then? Sure, my noble lord If she be so abandon'd to her sorrow As it is spoke, she never will admit me. Duke. Be clamorous, and leap all civil bounds, Rather than make unprofited return. Vio. Say, I do speak with her, my lord: What Duke. O, then unfold the passion of my love; Surprise her with discourse of my dear faith: It shall become thee well to act my wocs; She will attend it better in thy youth, Than in a nuncio of more grave aspect. Vio. I think not so, my lord. Duke. Dear lad, believe it; For they shall yet belie thy happy years That say, thou art a man: Diana's lip Is not more smooth and rubious; thy small pipe Is as the maiden's organ, shrill and sound, And all is semblative a woman's part. I know thy constellation is right apt For this affair:-Some four, or five, attend him; SCENE V.-A Room in Olivia's House. Enter Maria and Clown. Mar. Nay, either tell me where thou hast been, or I will not open my lips so wide as a bristle may enter, in way of thy excuse: my lady will hang theo for thy absence. Clo. Let her hang me: he that is well hanged in this world needs to fear no colours. Mar. Make that good. Clo. He shall see none to fear. Mar. A good lenten answer: I can tell thee where that saying was born, of, I fear no colours. Clo. Where, good mistress Mary? Mar. In the wars; and that may you be bold to say in your foolery. Clo. Well, God give them wisdom that have it; and those that are fools let them use their talents. Mar. Yet you will be hanged, for being so long absent; or, to be turned away: is not that as good as a hanging to you? Clo. Many a good hanging prevents a bad mar. riage; and, for turning away, let summer bear it out. Mar. You are resolute, then? Clo. Not so, neither; but I am resolved on two points. Mar. That if one break the other will hold; or, it both break your gaskins fall. Clo. Apt, in good faith; very apt! Well, go thy way; if sir Toby would leave drinking, thou wert as witty a piece of Eve's flesh as any in Illyria. Mar. Peace, you rogue, no more o' that: here comes my lady: make your excuse wisely, you were best. [Exit. Enter Olivia and Malvolio. Clo. Wit, and 't be thy will, put me into good fooling! Those wits that think they have thee do very oft prove fools; and I, that am sure I lack thee, may pass for a wise man: For what says Quinapalus? Better a witty fool, than a foolish wit.-God bless thee, lady! Oli. Take the fool away. [lady. Clo. Do you not hear, fellows? Take away the Oli. Go to, you 're a dry fool; I'll no more of you: besides, you grow dishonest. Clo. Two faults, madonna, that drink and good counsel will amend: for give the dry fool drink,then is the fool not dry; bid the dishonest man mend himself, if he mend, he is no longer dishonest; if he cannot, let the botcher mend him: Anything that 's mended is but patched: virtue that transgresses is but patched with sin; and sin that amends is but patched with virtue: If that this simple syllogism will serve, so; if it will not, What remedy? As there is no true cuckold but calamity, so beauty's a flower:-the lady bade take away the fool; therefore, I say again, take her away. Oli. Sir, I bade them take away you. Clo. Misprision in the highest degree!-Lady, Cucullus non facit monachum; that 's as much as to say, I wear not motley in my brain. Good madonna, give me leave to prove you a fool. Oli. Can you do it? Clo. Dexteriously, good madonna. Clo. I must catechize you for it, madonna: Good Clo. The more fool, madonna, to mourn for your brother's soul being in heaven.-Take away the fool, gentlemen. Oli. What think you of this fool, Malvolio? doth he not mend? Mal. Yes; and shall do, till the pangs of death shake him Infirmity, that decays the wise, doth ever make the better fool. better increasing your folly! Sir Toby will be sworn Clo. God send you, sir, a speedy infirmity, for the that I am no fox; but he will not pass his word for two-pence that you are no fool. Oli. How say you to that, Malvolio? Mal. I marvel your ladyship takes delight in such a barren rascal: I saw him put down the other day with an ordinary fool, that has no more brain than a stone. Look you now, he's out of his guard already; unless you laugh and minister occasion to him, he is gagged. I protest I take these wise men, that crow so at these set kind of fools, no better than the fools' zanies. Oli. O, you are sick of self-love, Malvolio, and taste with a distempered appetite. To be generous, guiltless, and of free disposition, is to take those things for bird-bolts that you deem cannon-bullets: There is no slander in an allowed fool, though he do nothing but rail; nor no railing in a known discreet man, though he do nothing but reprove. Clo. Now Mercury endue thee with leasing, for thou speakest well of fools! Re-enter Maria. Enter Viola. Vio. The honourable lady of the house, which is she? Oli. Speak to me, I shall answer for her: Your will? Vio. Most radiant, exquisite, and unmatchable beauty, I pray you tell me if this be the lady of the house, for I never saw her: I would be loath to cast away my speech; for, besides that it is excellently well penn'd I have taken great pains to con it. Good beauties, let me sustain no scorn; I am very comptible, even to the least sinister usage. Oli. Whence came you, sir? Vio. I can say little more than I have studied, and that question 's out of my part. Good gentle one, Mar. Madam, there is at the gate a young gentle- give me modest assurance if you be the lady of the man much desires to speak with you. Oli. From the count Osino, is it? Mar. I know not, madam; 't is a fair young man, and well attended. Oli. Who of my people hold him in delay? Mar. Sir Toby, madam, your kinsman. Oli. Fetch him off, I pray you; he speaks nothing but madman: Fie on him! [Exit Maria.] Go you, Malvolio: if it be a suit from the count, I am sick, or not at home; what you will, to dismiss it. [Exit Malvolio.] Now you see, sir, how your fooling grows old, and people dislike it. Cio. Thou hast spoke for us, madonna, as if thy eldest son should be a fool; whose skull Jove cram with brains! for here he comes, one of thy kin, has a most weak pia mater. Enter Sir Toby Belch. house, that I may proceed in my speech. Oli. Are you a comedian? Vio. No, my profound heart; and yet, by the very fangs of malice I swear I am not that I play. Are you the lady of the house? Vio. Most certain, if you are she you do usurp Oli. If I do not usurp myself, I am. yourself; for what is yours to bestow is not yours to reserve. But this is from my commission: I will you the heart of my message. on with my speech in your praise, and then show Oli. Come to what is important in 't: I forgive you the praise. [poetical. Vio. Alas, I took great pains to study it, and 't is Oli. It is the more like to be feigned; I pray you, keep it in. I heard you were saucy at my gates; and allowed your approach, rather to wonder at you Oli. By mine honour, half drunk.-What is he at than to hear you. If you be not mad, be gone; if the gate, cousin? Sir To. A gentleman. Oli. A gentleman? what gentleman? Sir To. T is a gentleman here-A plague o' these pickle-herrings!-How now, sot? Clo. Good sir Toby, Oli. Cousin, cousin, how have you come so early by this lethargy? Sir To. Lechery! I defy lechery: There 's one at the gate Oli. Ay, marry; what is he? Sir To. Let him be the devil, an he will, I care not give me faith, say I. Well, it's all one. [Exit. Oli. What's a drunken man like, fool? Clo. Like a drowned man, a fool, and a madman: one draught above heat makes him a fool; the second mads him; and a third drowns him. Oli. Go thou and seek the crowner, and let him sit o' my coz; for he 's in the third degree of drink, he 's drown'd: go, look after him. Clo. He is but mad yet, madonna; and the fool shall look to the madman. [Exit Clown. Re-enter Malvolio. Mal. Madam, yond young fellow swears he will speak with you. I told him you were sick; he takes on him to understand so much, and therefore comes to speak with you: I told him you were asleep; he seems to have a foreknowledge of that too, and therefore comes to speak with you. What is to be said to him, lady? he 's fortified against any denial. Oli. Tell him he shall not speak with me. Mal. He has been told so; and he says, he 'll stand at your door like a sheriff's post, and be the supporter of a bench, but he 'll speak with you. Oli. What kind of man is he? Mal. Why, of mankind. Oli. What manner of man? Mal. Of very ill manner; he 'll speak with you, will you, or no. Oli. Of what personage, and years, is he? Mal. Not yet old enough for a man, nor young enough for a boy; as a squash is before 't is a peascod, or a codling when 't is almost an apple: 't is with him in standing water, between boy and man. He is very well-favoured, and he speaks very shrew. ishly; one would think his mother's milk was scarce out of him. Oli. Let him approach: Call in my gentlewoman. Mal. Gentlewoman, my lady calls. [Exit. Re-enter Maria. Oli. Give me my veil: come, throw it o'er my face. We'll once more hear Orsino's embassy. you have reason, be brief: 't is not that time of moon with me to make one in so skipping a dialogue. Mar. Will you hoist sail, sir? here lies your way. Vio. No, good swabber; I am to hull here a little longer.-Some mollification for your giant, sweet Oli. Tell me your mind. [lady: Vio. I am a messenger. Oli. Sure, you have some hideous matter to deliver, when the courtesy of it is so fearful. Speak your office. Vio. It alone concerns your ear. I bring no overture of war, no taxation of homage; I hold the olive in my hand: my words are as full of peace as matter. Oli. Yet you began rudely. What are you? what would you? Vio. The rudeness that hath appeared in me, have I learned from my entertainment. What I am, and what I would, are as secret as maidenhead: to your ears, divinity; to any other's, profanation. Oli. Give us the place alone: we will hear this divinity. [Exit Maria.] Now, sir, what is your text? Vio. Most sweet lady, Oli. A comfortable doctrine, and much may be said of it. Where lies your text? Vio. In Orsino's bosom. Oli. In his bosom? In what chapter of his bosom? io. To answer by the method, in the first of his heart. Oli. O, I have read it; it is heresy. Have you no more to say? Vio. Good madam, let me see your face. Oli. Have you any commission from your lord to negociate with my face? you are now out of your text: but we will draw the curtain, and show you the picture. [Unveiling.] Look you, sir, such a one I was this present: Is 't not well done? Vio. Excellently done, if God did all. [weather. Oli. T is in grain, sir; 't will endure wind and Nature's own sweet and cunning hand laid on: Vio. 'T is beauty truly blent, whose red and white Lady, you are the cruell'st she alive, If you will lead these graces to the grave, And leave the world no copy. give out divers schedules of my beauty: It shall be Oli. O, sir, I will not be so hard-hearted; I will belled to my will: as, item, two lips indifferent red; inventoried; and every particle, and utensil, laitem, two grey eyes, with lids to them; item, one neck, one chin, and so forth. Were you sent hither to praise me? Vio. I see you what you are: you are too proud; |