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Ford. This is strange : Who hath got the right Which forced marriage would bave brought upo :: Anne?

her. Page. My heart misgives me : Here comes mas- Ford. Stand not amaz'd: here is no remedy :ter Fenton.

In love, the heavens themselves do guide the state

Money buys lands, and wives are sold by fate. Enter Fenton and ANNE PAGE.

Fal. I am glad, though you have ta'en e special How now, master Fenton ?

stand to strike at me, tbat your arrow hath glanced Anne. Pardon, good father ! good my mother, Page. Well, what remedy ? Fenton, Heaven give pardon!

thee joy! Page. Now, mistress ? how chance you went not What cannot be eschew'd, must be embrac'd. with master Slender?

Fal. When night-dogs run, all sorts of deer are Mrs. Puge. Why went you not with master doc.

cbas'd. tor, maid?

Era. I wili dance and eat plums at your wedding. Fent. You do amaze her: Hear the truth of it. Mrs. Page. Well, I will muse no further :You would have married her most shamefully,

Master Fenton,
Where there was no proportion held in love. Heaven give you many, many merry days !~
The truth is, she and I, Icng since contracted, Good busband, let us every one go home,
Are now so sure, that nothing can dissolve us. And laugh this sport o'er by a country fire;
The offence is holy that she hath committed : Sir Jobn and all.
And this deceit loses the name of craft,

Ford. Let it be so:—Sir John, of disobedience, or unduteous title;

To master Brook you yet shall hold your word ; Since therein she doth evitate and shin

For he, 10 night, shall lie with mistress Ford. A thousand irreligious cursed hours,






The appetite may sicken, and so die.ORSINO, Duke of Illyria.

That strain again;-it bad a dying fall : Sebastian, a young gentleman, brother to Viola.

0, it came o'er my ear like the sweet south

That breathes upon a bank of violets, ANTONIO, a sea-captain, friend to Sebastian.

Stealing, and giviug odour.--Enough; no moro; A sea captain, friend to Viola. VALENTINE,

'Tis not so sweet now, as it was before. CURIO, gentlemen attending on the Duke.

O spirit of love, how quick and fresh art thou ! Sir Toby Belch, uncle of Olivia.

That, notwithstanding thy capacity Sir ANDREW AGUE-CHEEK.

Receiveth as the sea, nought enters there,

Of what validity and pitch soever,
Malvolio, steward to Olivia.

But falls into abatement and low price,
servants to Olivia.

Even in a minute ! so full of shapes is fancy,

That it alune is bigh-fantastical. Olivia, a rich Countess.

Cur. Will you go hunt, my lord ? Viola, in love with the Duke.


What, Curio? MARIA, Olivia's woman.


The baita Lords, Priests, Sailors, Officers, Musicians, and|o, when mine eyes did see Olivia first,

Duke. Wby, so I do, the noblest that I bare: other Attendants.

Methought, she purg'd the air of pestilence;
CENE,-A City in Illyria; and the Sea-coast That instant was I turn'd into a hart;
near it.

And my desires, like fell and cruel bounds,
E'er since pursue me.

How now? what news from her ?


Val. So please my lord, I might not be admitted SCENE I.- An Apartment in the Duke's Palace But from her bandmaid do return this answer:

The element itself, uill seven years' heat, Enter Duke, Curio, Lords; Musicians attending

Shall not behold her face at ample view ; Duke. If music be the food of love, play on, But, like a cloistress, she will veiled walk, Give me excess of it; that, su: feiting,

And water once a day ber chamber round

With eye-offending brine : all this, to season Vio. There is a fair behaviour in thee, captain A brother's dead love, which she would keep fresh, And though that nature with a beauteous wall And lasting, in her sad remembrance.

Doth oft close in pollution, yet of thee Duke. O, she, that hath a heart of that fine frame, I will believe, thou hast a mind that suits To pay this debt of love but to a brother,

With this thy fair and outward character.
How will she love, when the rich, golden shaft, I pray thee, and I'll pay thee bounteously
Hatb killi'd the flock of all affections else

Conceal me what I am; and be my aid
That live in ber! when liver, brain, und heart, For such disguise as, haply, shall become
These sovereign thrones, are all supplied, and fillid, The form of my intent. "I'll serve this duke ;
(Her sweet perfections,) with one self king! Thou shalt present me as an eunuch to him,
Away before me to sweet beds of flowers; It may be worth thy pains ; for I can sing,
Love-thoughts lie rich, when canopied with bowers. And speak to him in many sorts of music,

(Eseunt. That will allow ine very worth his service.

What else may bap, to time I will commit;
ECENE II.-The Sea-coast.

Only shape thou thy silence to my wit.

Cap. Be you his eunuch, and your mute I'll be ! Enter Viola, Captain, and Sailors.

When my tongue blabs, then let mine eyes not see; Vio. What country, friends, is this?

Vio. I thank thee : Lead me on. (Exeunt. Cap.

Illyria, lady. Vio. And what should I do in Illyria ?

SCENE III.-A Room in Olivia's House. My brother he is in Elysium.

Enter Sir Toby Belch, and MARIA. Perchance, he is not drown'd :-What think you, sailors?

Sir To. What a plague meang my niece, to tako Cap. It is perchance, that you yourself were the death of her brother thus ? I am sure, care's an saved.

enemy to life. Vio. O my poor brother! and so, percbance, may Mar. By my troth, sir Toby, you must come in he be.

earlier o'nights; your cousin, my lady, takes great Cap. True, madam: and, to comfort you with exceptions to your ill hours. chance,

Sir To. Why, let her except before excepted. Assure yourself, after our ship did split,

Mar. Ay, but you must confine yourself within When you, and that poor number saved with you, the modest limits of order. Hung on our driving boat, I saw your brother, Sir To. Confine? I'll confine myself no finer Most provident in peril, bind bimself

than I am: these clothes are good enough to drivk (Courage and hope both teaching him the practice) in, and so be these boots too;, an they be not, To a strong mast, that lived upon the sea; let them hang themselves in their own straps. Where, like Arion on the dolphin's back,

Mar. That quaffing and drinking will undo you: I saw him bold acquaintance with the waves, I heard my lady talk of it yesterday ; and of a fool. So long as I could see.

ish knight, that you brought in one night here, to Vio.

For saying so, there's gold : be her wooer. Mine owo escape unfoldeth to my bope,

Sir To. Who? Sir Andrew Ague-cheek? . Whereto thy speech serves for authority,

Mur. Ay, he. The like of him. Koow'st thou this country ?

Sir To. He's as tall a man as any's in Illyria. Cap. Ay, madam, well; for I was bred and born, Mar. What's that to the purpose ? Not three hours' travel from this very place. Sir To. Why, he has three thousand ducats Vio. Wbo governs here?

year. Cap.

A noble duke, in nature, Mar. Ay, but he'll have but a year in all these As in his name.

ducats; he's a very fool, and a prodigal. Vio. What is his name?

Sir To. Fye, that you'll say so ! be plays o' the

Orsino. viol-de-gambo, and speaks three or four languages Vio. Orsino ! I have heard my father name bim: word for word without book, and hath all the good He was a bachelor then.

gifts of nature. Cap. And so is now,

Mar. He hach, indeed, almost natural : for, Or was so very late : for but a month

besides that he's a tool, he's a great quarreller, Ago I went from hence; and then 'twas fresh and, but that he hath the gift of a coward to allay In murmur, (as, you know, what great ones do, the gust he hath in quarrelling, 'tis thought among The less will prattle of,) that he did seek tbe prudent, he would quickly bave the gift of a The love of fair Olivia.

grave. Vio. What's she?

Sir To. By this hand, they are scoundrels, and Cap. A virtuous maid, tbe daughter of a count subtractors, that say so of him. Who are they? That died some twelvemonth since; then leaving Mar. They that add morcorer, he's drunk night. her

ly in your company. In the protection of his son, her brother,

Sir To. With drinking healths to my niece ; l'll Wbo shortly also died : for whose dear love, drink to her, as long as there is a passage in my They say, she hath abjur'd the company

throat, and drink in Illyria : He's a coward, and a And sight of men.

coystril, that will not drink to my niece, till bis Vio.

0, that I served that lady : brains turn o' the toe like a parish-top. Wbat, And might not be delivered to the world,

wench? Castiliano-vulgo; for here comes Sir Ap. Till I bad made mine own occasion mellow, drew Ague-face. What my estate is.

Enter Sir Andrew AGUE-CHEEK. Cap.

That were hard to compass ; Because she will admit no kind of suit,

Sir A. Sir Toby Belch! how now, sir Toby No, not the duke's.




my band.

Sir T. Sweet sir Andrew ?

Sir To. Art thou good at these hickshaws, Sir And. Bless you, fair shrew,

knight? Mar. And you too, sir.

Sir And. As any man in Illyria, whatsoerer he Sir To. Accost, sir Andrew, accost.

be, under the degree of my betters; and yet I Sir And. What's that?

will not compare with an old man. Sir To. My niece's chamber-maid.

Sir To. What is thy excellence in a galliard Sir And. Good mistress Accost, I desire better knight? acquaintance.

Sir And. 'Faiih, I can cut a caper.
Mar. My name
Mary, sir.

Sir To. And I can cut the mutton to't.
Sir And. Good mistress Mary Accost,-

Sir And. And, I think, I have the back-trick, Sir To. You mistake, knight : accost, is, front sinıply as strong as any man in Illyria. her, board ber, woo her, assail her.

Sir To. Wherefore are these things hid? whereSir And. By my troth, I would not undertake fore have these gifts a curtain before them ? are they her in this company. Is that the meaning of ac- like to take dust, like mistress Mall's picture? why cost?

dost thou not go to church in a galliard, aod c me Mar. Fare you well, gentlemen.

home in a coranto? My very walk should be a jiz; Sir To. An thou let part so, sir Andrew, 'would I would not so much as make water, but in a sink thou might'st never draw sword again.

a-jace. Wbat dost thou mean? is it a world to Sir And. An you part so, mistress, I would I hide virtues in ? I did think, by the excelleni conmight never draw sword again. Fair lady, do you stituzion of thy leg, it was formed under the star think you have fools in hand ?

of a galliard. Mar. Sir, I have not you by the band.

Sir And. Ay, 'tis strong, and it does indifferent Sir And. Marry, but you shall bave; and here's well in a flame-coloured stock. Shall we set about

some revels ? Mar. Now, sir, th ught is free: I pray you, bring Sir To. What shall we do else? were we no your hand to the buttery-bar, and let it drink. born under Taurus?

Sir And. Wherefore, sweet heart? what's your Sir And. Taurus ? that's sides and heart. metaphor ?

Sir To, No, sir; it is legs and thighs. Let me Mar. It's dry, sir.

see thee caper : ha! higher : ba, ba !-excellent! Sir And. Why, I think so ; I am not such an ass,

[Ereunt. but I can keep my hand dry. But what's your jest ? Mar. A dry jest, sir

SCENE IV.-A Room in the Duke's Palace. Sir And. Are you full of them? Mar. Ay, sir; I have them at my fingers' ends :

Enter Valentine, und Viola in man's attire. marry, now I let go your hand, I am barren.

[Exit MARIA. Val. If the duke continue these favours towards Sir To. O knight, thou lack'st a cup of canary : you, Cesario, you are like to be much advance.l ; When did I see thee so put down?

he hath known you but three days, and already you Sir And. Never in your life, I think ; unless you are no stranger. see canary put me down : Melbinks sometimes I Vio. You either fear his bumour, or my neglihave no more wit than a Christian, or an ordinary gence, tbat you call in question the continuance or man has : but I am a great eater of beef, and, I be- his love : Is he inconstant, sir, in his favours ? lieve, tbat does harm to my wit.

Val. No, believe me.
Sir To. No question.
Sir And. An I thought that, I'd forswear it. I'll

Enter DUKE, Curio, and Attendants.
ride home to-morrow, sir Toby.
Sir To. Pourquoy, my dear knight?

Vio. I thank you. Here comes the count. Sir And. What is puorquoy? do or not do? 1 Duke. Who saw Cesario, ho ? would I had bestowed that time in the tongues, Vio. On your attendance, my lord; here. that I have in fencing, dancing, and bear baiting : Duke. Stand you awbile aloof.-Cesario, O, had I but followed the arts !

Thou know'st no less but all ; I have unclasp'd Sir To. Then badst thou had an excellent head To thee the book even of my secret soul : of hair.

Therefore, good youth, address thy gait unto ber ; Sir And. Why, would that have mended my hair? Be not deny'd access, stand at her doors,

Sir To. Past question ; for thou seest, it will not And tell them, there thy fixed foot shall grow, curl by nature.

| Till thou have audience. Sir And. But it becomes me well enough, does't Vio.

Sure, my noble lord, not?

If she be so abandou'd to her sorrow Sir To. Excellent ; it hangs like flax on a distaff; As it is spoke, she never will admit me. and I hope to see a house wife take thee between Duke. Be clamorous, and leap all civil bounds, 'ber lægs, and spin it off.

Rather than make unprofited return. Sir And. 'Faith, I'll home to-morrow, Sir Toby :

Vio. Say, I do speak with her, my lord: What your niece will not be seen ; or, if she be, it's four then ? to one she'll none of me: the count bimself, here

Duke. O, then unfold the passion of ny love, bard by, woos her.

Surprise ber with discourse of my dear faith ; Sir To. She'll none o' the count; she'll not match It shall become thee well to act my woes ; above her degree, neither in estate, years, nor wit; She will attend it better in thy youth, I have heard her swear it. T'ut, there's life in't, Than in a nuncio of more grave aspéct. man.

Vio. I think not so, my lord. ' Sir And. I'll stay a month longer. I om a fel- Duke.

Dear lad, believo it, low o' the straugest mind i' the world; I delight For they shall yet belie thy happy years, in masques and revels sometimes altogether.

That say, thou art a man : Diana's lip

Is not more smooth, and rubious ; thy small pipe calamity, so beauty's a flower :-the lady bade take Is as the maiden's organ, shrill, and sound, away the fool; therefore, I say again, take her And all is semblative a woman's part.

away. I know, thy constellation is right apt

oli. Sir, I bade them take away you. For this affair :—Some four, or five, attend bim; Clo. Misprision in the highest degree !-I ady, All, if you will; for I myself am best,

Cucullus non facit monachum ; that's as much as to When least in company :-Prosper well in this, say, I wear not motley in my brain. Good maAnd thou shalt live as freely as tliy lord,

donna, give me leave to prove you a fool. To call bis fortunes thine.

Oli. Can you do it?
I'll do my best,

Clo. Dexterously, good madonna.
To woo your lady: yet, (Aside) a bárful strife! Oli. Make your proof.
Whoe'er I woo, myself would be his wife.

Clo. I must catechize you for it, madonna ; Good (Eseunt. my mouse of virtue, answer me.

Oli. Well, sir, for want of other idleness, I'll SCENE V.-A Room in Olivia's House.

'bide your proof. Enter Man.and Clown.

Clo. Good madonna, wby mourn'st thou?

Oli. Good fool, for my brother's death. Mar. Nay, either tell me whor? thou bas: been, Clo. I think, his soul is in hell, madonna. or I will not open my lips, so wide as a bristle may Oli. I know his soul is in heaven, fool. enter, in way of thy excuse : my lady will bang Clo. The more fool you, madonna, to mourn for tbee for thy absence.

your brother's soul being io beaven.—Take away Clo. Let' ber hang me : be, that is well banged the fool, gentlemen. in this world, needs to fear no colours.

Oli. What think you of this fool, Malvolio ? duth Mar. Make that good.

he not mend ? Clo. He shall see none to fear.

Mal. Yes; and shall do, till the pangs of death Mar. A good lenten answer I can tell thee shake bim : Infirmity, that decays the wise, doth wbere thal saying was born, of, I fear no colours. ever make the better fool. Clo. Where, good mistress Mary?

Clo. God send you, sir, a speedy infirmity, for Mar. In the wars; and that may you be bold to the better increasing your folly ! Sir Toby will be say in your foolery.

sworn, that I am no fox; but he will not pass luis Clo. Well, God give them wisdom, that have it; word for two-pence that you are no fool. and those that are fools, let them use their talents. Oli. How say you to that, Malvolio ?

Mar. Yet you will be banged, for being so long Mal. I marvel your ladyship takes delight in such absent: or, to be turned away ; is not that as good a barren rascal; I saw him put down the other day as a banging to you?

with an ordinary fool, that has no more brain thau Clo. Many a good hanging prevents a bad mar a stone. Look you now, he's out of his guard riage; and, for turning away, let summer bear it already ; unless you laugh and min'ster occasion to

him, he is gagged. I protest, I take these wise Mar. You are resolute then?

men, that crow so at these set kind of fools, no Clo. Not so neither ; but I am resolved on two better ihan the fools' zanies. poists.

Oli. O, you are sick of self-love, Malvolio, and Mar. That, if one break, the other will hold; taste with a distempered apperite. To be generous, 15, if both break, your gaskins fall.

guiltless, and of free disposition, is to take those Clo. Apt, in good faith ; very apt! Well, go thy things for bird-bolts, that you deem cannon-bullets : say; if Sir Toby would leave drinking, thou wert There is no slander in an allowed fool, though he as witty a piece of Eve's flesh as any in Illyria. do notbing but rail; nor no railing in a known dis

Mar: Peace, you rogue, no more o' that; here creet man, though he do nothing but reprove. comes my lady: make your excuse wisely, you were Clo. Now Mercury endue tbee with ng, for best.

[Erit. thou speakest well of fools ! Enter Olivia and MALVOLIO.

Re-enter MARIA. Clo. Wit, and 't be thy will, put me into good Mar. Madam, there is at the gate a young genfooling! Those wits, that think they have thee, do tleman much desires to speak with you. very oft prove fools; and I, that am sure I lack (ili. From the Count Orsino, is it? thee, may pass for a wise nan : For what says Mar. I know not, madam; 'tis a fair young man, Quinapalus! Better a witty fool, than a foolish wit. and well attended. -God bless tbee, lady!

Oli. Who of my people hold him in delay? Oli. Take the fool away.

Mar. Sir Toby, madam, your kinsman. Clo. Do you not hear, fellows ? Take away the Oli. Fetch bim off, I pray you; he speaks no. lady.

thing but madman : Fie on him! [Exit Maria.] Óli. Go to, you're a dry fool; I'll no more of Go you, Malvolio: if it be a suit from the count, you : besides, you grow dishonest.

I am sick, or not at home; what you will, to disClo. Two faults, madonna, drink and good miss it. [Exit Malvolio.) Now you see, sir, how counsel will amend : for give the dry fool drink, your fooling grows old, and people dislike it. then is the fool not dry; bid the dishonest man Clo. Thou hast spoke for us, madonna, as if thy mend himself; if he mend, he is no longer dis- eldest son should be a fool : wiose skull Jove crau honest; if he cannot, let the botcher mend him : with brains, for here he comes, one of thy kin, has Anything that's mended, is but patched : virtue, a most weak pia mater. that transgresses, is but patched with sin ; and sin, that amends, is but patched with virtue : If that

Enter Sir Toby Belch. this simple syllogism will serve, so; if it will not, Oli. By mine honour, balf drunk.---Wbat is be What remedy? As there is no true cuckold but at the gaie, cousin ?



Sir To. A gentleman.

and that question's out of my part. Good gentle Oli. A gentleman? What gentleman ?

one, give me modest assurance, if you be the lady Sir To. "'Tis a gentleman here- A plague o'these of the house, that I may proceed in my speech. pickle-herrings !-How now,


Oli. Are you a comedian ? Clo. Good Sir Toby,

Vio. No, my profound heart : and yet by the Oli

. Cousin, cousin, how have you come so early very fangs of malice I swear I am not that I play. by this lethargy?

Are you the lady of the house? Sir To. Lechery! I defy lecbery : There's one oli. If I do not usurp myself, I am. at the gate.

Vio. Most certain, if you are she, you do usun Oli. Ay, marry; what is he?

yourself; for what is yours to bestow, is not yours Sir To. Let him be the devil, an be will, I care to reserve. But this is from my commission: I not: give me faith, say I. Well, it's all one. will on with my speech in your praise, and then

[Exit. show you the heart of my message. Oli. What's a drunken man like, fool?

Oli. Come to what is important in't : I forgivo Clo. Like a drown'd man, a fool, and a madman : you the praise. one draught above heat makes him a fool; the se- Vio. Alas, I took great pains to study it, and 'tis cond mads him; and a third drowns him.

poetical. Oli, Go thou and seek the coroner, and let him Oli. It is the more like to be feigned; I pray sit o' my coz; for he's in the third degree of drink, you, keep it in. I heard you were sancy at my he's drown'd : go, look after him.

gates; and allowed your approach, rather to wonder Clo. He is but mad yet, madonna ; and the fool at you than to hear you. If you be not mad, be sball look to the madman.

[Exit Clown. gone ; if you have reason, be brief: 'tis not that

time of moon with me, to make one in so skipping Re-enter Malvolio.

a dialogue. Mal. Madam, yond' young fellow swears he will Mar. Will you hoist sail, sir? bere lies your speak with you. I told him you were sick; he way. takes on bim to understand so much, and therefore Vio. No, good swabber; I am to hull here a comes to speak with you; I told him you were little longer. Some mollification for your giant, asleep; he seems to have a fore-knowledge of that sweet lady. too, and therefore comes to speak with you. What Oli. Tell me your mind. is to be said to bim, lady? be's fortified against any Vio. I am a messenger. denial.

Oli. Sure, you have some hideous matter to deOli. Tell him, he shall not speak with me. liver, when the courtesy of it is so fearful. Speak

Mal. He has been told so; and he says, he'll your office. stand at your door like a sheriff's post, and be the Vio. It alone concerns your ear. I bring no supporter of a bench, but he'll speak with you. overture of war, no taxation of homage ; I bold the Oli. What kind of man is he?

olive in my band : my words are as full of peace as Mal. Why, of mankind. Oli. What manner of man?

Oli. Yet you began rudely. What are you? wbat Mal. Of very ill manner ; he'll speak with you, would you? will you, or no.

Vio. The rudeness that hath appeared in me, oli. Of what personage, and years, is he? bave 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 maidenenough for a biy; as a squash is before 'tis a peas- head : to your ears, divinity ; to any other's, profacod, or a codling when 'tis almost an apple : 'tis nation. with him e'en standing water, between boy and Oli. Give us the place alone : we will hear this man. He is very well-favoured, and he speaks divinity. (Exit Maria.] Now, sir, what is your very shrewichly; one would think, his mother's text? milk were scarce out of bim.

Vio. Most sweet lady, Oli. Let him approach : Call in my gentle- Oli. A comfortable doctrine, and much may be

said of it. Where lies your text ? Mal. Gentlewoman, my lady calls. [Exit. Vio. In Orsino's bosom.

Oli. In his bosom? In what chapter of his Re-enter MARIA.

bosom? Uu. Give me my veil : come, throw it o'er my Vio. To answer by the method, in the first of his face ; We'll once more bear Orsino's embassy. heart.

Oli. O, I have read it; it is heresy. Have you Enter Viola.

no more to say ? l'io. The honourable 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, – pay you, tell me, if this be the lady of this present. Is't not well done? (Unveiling the house, for I never saw her: I would be loath Vio. Excellently done, if God did all. to cast away my speech; for, besides that it is Oli. 'Tis in grain, sir; 'twill endure wind and exceliently well peon'd, I have taken great pains weather. to con it. Good beauties, let me sustain no scorn; Vio. 'Tis beauty truly blent, whose red and white I 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, on. Whence came you, sir !

If you will lead these graces to tbe grave, l'io. i can say littlá more than I have studied, and leave the world no copy.



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