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Then say, if they be true:-This misshapen knave,
His mother was a witch; and one so strong
That could control the moon, make flows and

And deal in her command, without her power:
These three have robb'd me; and this demi-devil
(For he's a bastard one,) had plotted with them
To take my life; two of these fellows you
Must know, and own; this thing of darkness I
Acknowledge mine.

Cal. I shall be pinch'd to death.

Alon. Is not this Stephano, my drunken


Seb. He is drunk now: Where had he wine?

For this one night; which (part of it,) I'll waste
With such discourse, as, I not doubt, shall make it
Go quick away: the story of my life,
And the particular accidents, gone by,
Since I came to this isle: And in the moru,
Pll bring you to your ship, and so to Naples,
Where I have hope to see the nuptial
Of these our dear-beloved solemniz'd;
And thence retire me to my Milan, where
Every third thought shall be my grave.
Alon. I long

but-To hear the story of your life, which must
Take the ear strangely.

Pro. I'll deliver all;

Alon. And Trinculo is reeling ripe? Where And promise you calm seas, auspicious gales, should they And sail so expeditious, that shall catch

Find this grand liquor that hath gilded them?-Your royal fleet far off.-My Ariel ;-chick,How cam'st thou in this pickle? That is thy charge; then to the elements Be free, and fare thou well!-[Aside.] Please you, draw near. [Exeunt.

Trin. I have been in such a pickle, since I saw you last, that, I fear me, will never out of my bones: I shall not fear fly-blowing.

Seb. Why, how now, Stephano?

Ste. O touch me not; I am not Stephano,
but a cramp.

Pro. You'd be king of the isle, sirrah?
Ste. I should have been a sore one then.
Alon. This is as strange a thing as e'er I
[Pointing to CALIBAN.

look'd on.

Pro. He is as disproportion'd in his manners,
As in shape:-Go, sirrah, to my cell;
Take with you your companions; as you look
To have my pardon, trim it handsomely.

Cal. Ay, that I will; and I'll be wise here


And seek for grace: What a thrice-double ass
Was I, to take this drunkard for a god,

And worship this dull fool?

Pro. Go to; away!

Alon. Hence, and bestow your luggage where

you found it.

Seb. Or stole it, rather.

[Exeunt CAL. STE. and TRIN.
Pro. Sir, I invite your highness, and your
To my poor cell

where you shall take your rest
• Honest.



Now my charms are all o'erthrown,
And what strength I have's mine own:
Which is most faint: now, 'tis true,
I must be here confin'd by you,
Or sent to Naples: Let me not,
Since I have my dukedom got,
And pardon'd the deceiver, dwell
In this bare island, by your spell;
But release me from my bands,
With the help of your good bands.
Gentle breath of your's my sails
Must fill, or else my project fails,
Which was to please: Now I want
Spirits to enforce, art to enchant ;
And my ending is despair,
Unless I be reliev'd by prayer:
Which pierces so that it assaults
Mercy itself, and frees all faults.
As you from crimes would pardon'd be,
Let your indulgence set me free.

Applause: noise was supposed to dissolve a spell.

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THE lighter seenes of this entertaining comedy are entirely the production of Shakspeare; and for its more serious portions he was probably indebted to the Histories Tragiques of Belleforest, who had them from Bandello. Malone quotes the “Fifth Egiog of Barnaby Googe," published with other poems of his in 1563, and now an exceedingly rare book, to show that Shakspeare might have borrowed from it the circumstances of the Duke sending his page to plead his cause with the lady, and of the lady's falling in love with the page. "This play (says Dr. Johnson,) is in the graver part elegant and easy, and in some of the lighter scenes exquisitely humourous." Its progress is full of spirit, and the entanglement of characters and circumstances is pleasingly unravelled in the final catastrophe. The self-sufficiency of Malvolio is charmingly depicted, and very laughably punished; whilst the excesses of Sir Toby Belch are almost excused by his smattering of wit, and his unqualified good-humour. The sudden attachment of Viola is much more improbable than the obstinate repugnance of Olivia: but the romantic nature of her love," feeding in concealment on her damask cheek,” gives an interest to her situation, whilst a victim to the tender passion, which the undisguised declarations of the other, though placed in the same predicament, must generally fail in producing.

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A Sea-captain, Friend to Viola.

MALVOLIO, Steward to Olivia.
FABIAN, Servants to Olivia.


OLIVIA, a rich Countess.
VIOLA, in love with the Duke.

VALENTINE, Gentlemen attending on the MARIA, Olivia's Woman.


Sir TOBY BELCH, Uncle of Olivia.

Lords, Priests, Sailors, Officers, Musiciam, and other Attendants.

SCENE-A City in Illyria; and the Sea-coast near it.


SCENE I.-An Apartment in the DUKE's


Enter DUKE, CURIO, LORDS; Musicians


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Duke. Why, so I do, the noblest that I have: Oh! when mine eyes did see Olivia first,

Duke. If music be the food of love, play on; Methought she purg'd the air of pestilence;

Give me excess of it; that, sufeiting,
The appetite may sicken, and so die.
That strain again;-it bad a dying fall:
Oh! it came o'er my ear like the sweet south,
That breathes upon a bank of violets,
Stealing, and giving odour.-Enough;
'Tis not so sweet now, as it was before.
O spirit of love, how quick and fresh art thou!
That notwithstanding thy capacity
Receiveth as the sea, nought enters there,

Of what validity and pitch soever,

But falls into abatement and low price,

• Value.

no more;

That instant was I turn'd into a hart;
And my desires, like fell and cruel bounds,
E'er since pursue me.-How now? what news
from her ?


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And water once a day her chamber round
With eye-offending brine: all this, to season
A brother's dead love, which she would keep

And lasting, in ber sad remembrance.

With this thy fair and outward character.
I pray thee, and I'll pay thee bounteously,
Conceal me what I am; and be my aid
For such disguise as, haply, shall become
The form of my intent. I'll serve this duke;

Duke. O she, that hath a heart of that fine Thou shalt present me as an eunuch to him,


To pay this debt of love but to a brother,
How will she love, when the rich golden shaft
Hath kill'd the flock of all affections else
That live in her ! when liver, brain, and heart,
These sovereign thrones, are all supplied, and

(Her sweet perfections,) with one self king !—
Away before me to sweet beds of flowers;
Love-thoughts lie rich, when canopied with


SCENE II.-The Sea Coast.
Enter VIOLA, CAPTAIN, and Sailors.
Vio. What country, friends, is this?
Cap. 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,
sailors ?

Cap. It is perchance, that you yourself were

Vio. O my poor brother! and so, perchance, may he be.

Cap. True, madam : and, to comfort you with

Assure yourself, after our ship did split,
When you, and that poor number saved with

Hung on our driving boat, I saw your brother,
Most provident in peril, bind himself

(Courage and hope both teaching him the prac-

To a strong mast, that lived upon the sea;
Where, like Arion on the dolphin's back,
I saw him bold acquaintance with the waves,
So long as I could see.

Vio. For saying so, there's gold:
Mine own escape unfoldeth to my hope,
Whereto thy speech serves for authority,

The like of him. Know'st thou this country?
Cap. Ay, Madam, well; for I was bred and


Not three hours' travel from this very place.
Vio. Who governs here?

Cap. A noble duke, in nature,

As in bis name.

Vio. What is his name?

Cap. Orsino.

It may be worth thy pains; for I can sing,
And speak to him in many sorts of music,
That will allow me very worth his service.
What else may hap, to time I will commit;
Only shape thou thy silence to my wit.

Cap. Be you his eunuch, and your mute I'll


When my tongue blabs, then let mine eyes not see!

Vio. I thank thee: Lead me on.


SCENE III-A Room in OLIVIA's House.

Enter Sir TOBY BELCH, and MARIA. 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 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!
Mar. Ay, he.

Sir To. He's as tall a man as any's in

Mar. What's that to the purpose?

Sir To. Why, he has three thousand ducats a year.

Mar. Aye, but he'll have but a year in all these ducats; he's a very fool, and a prodigal.

Sir To. Fye, that you'll say so ! be plays o' the viol-de-gambo, and speaks three or four lan guages word for word without book, and bath all the good gifts of nature.

Mar. He bath, 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, 'tis thought

Vio. Orsino! I have heard my father name among the prudent, he would quickly have the

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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 served that lady :
And might not be delivered to the world,

TJ bad 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 bebaviour in thee, cap

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gift of a grave.

Sir To. By this hand, they are scoundrels Who are and substractors that say so of him. they?

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

Sir To. With drinking healths to my niece; P'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.

Sir And. Sir Toby Belch! how now, Sir Toby
Belch ?

Sir To. Sweet Sir Andrew!

Sir And. Bless you, fair shrew.
Mar. And you too, Sir.

Sir To. Accost, Sir Andrew, accost.
Sir And. What's that?

Sir To. My niece's chamber-maid.

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