ORSINO, Duke of Illyria.
SEBASTIAN, Brother to Viola.

ANTONIO, a Sea Captain, Friend to Sebastian.
VALENTINE,

Gentlemen attending on the Duke.

CURIO,

SIR TOBY BELCH, Uncle to Olivia. SIR ANDREW AGUECHEEK.

ACT I.

SCENE 1.-A Room in the DUKE'S Palace.

Enter DUKE, CURIO, Lords; Musicians attending.

Duke. If music be the food of love, play on; Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting, The appetite may sicken, and so die. That strain again! it had a dying fall: O! it came o'er my ear like the sweet sound That breathes upon a bank of violets, Stealing and giving odour. Enough! no more : 'Tis not so sweet now as it was before.

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

A Sea Captain, Friend to Viola.
OLIVIA, a rich Countess.

But from her handmaid do return this answer :
The element itself, till seven years' heat,
Shall not behold her face at ample view:
But, like a cloistress, she will veiled walk,
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 fresh
And lasting in her sad remembrance.

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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. Orsino.

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

Cap. And so is now, or was so 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 seek the love of fair Olivia.

Vio. What's she?

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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.

Sir To. With drinking healths to my niece. I'll drink to her as long as there is a passage in

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
With this thy fair and outward character.
I prithee, 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:
Thou shalt present me as an eunuch to him :
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.

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

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 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.

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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 Aguecheek?
Mar. Ay, he.

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

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 Agueface.

Enter Sir ANDREW AGUECHEEK.

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 chambermaid.

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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. 92 Sir To. No question.

Sir Andl. An I thought that, I'd forswear it. I'll ride home to-morrow, Sir Toby.

Sir To. Pourquoi, my dear knight?

Sir And. What is 'pourquoi? do or not do? I would I had bestowed that time in the tongues that I have in fencing, dancing, and bear-baiting. 0 had I but followed the arts.

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Sir To. Then hadst thou had an excellent head

of hair.

Sir And. Why,would that have mended my hair? Sir To. Past question; for thou seest it will not curl by nature.

Sir And. But it becomes me well enough,

does 't not?

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.

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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 kickshawses, 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 'em? 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. 142 Sir And. Ay, 'tis strong, and it does indifferent well in a flame-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.

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he hath known yon but three days, and already you are no stranger.

Vio. You either fear his humour, or my negli gence, that you call in question the continuance of his love. Is he inconstant, sir, in his favours? Val. No, believe me.

Vio. I thank you. Here comes the count.

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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 woes; 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;

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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 ;
All, if you will; for I myself am best
When least in company. Prosper well in this,
And thou shalt live as freely as thy lord,
To call his fortunes thine.

Vio.

I'll do my best To woo your lady: Aside. Yet, a barful strife! Whoe'er I woo, myself would be his wife.

Exeunt.

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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 thee 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?

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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

S

long absent; or, to be turned away, is not that so good as a hanging to you?

Clo. Many a good hanging prevents a bad marriage; 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, if 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.

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Mar. Peace, you rogue, no more o' that. Here comes my lady make your excuse wisely, you were best. Exit.

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Clo. Wit, an'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.'

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Enter OLIVIA with MALVOLIO.

God bless thee, lady!

Oli. Take the fool away.

Clo. Do you not hear, fellows? Take away the lady.

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. Any thing 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.

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Oli. Sir, I bade them take away you. Clo. Misprision in the highest degree! Lady, cucullus non facit monachum: that's as much to say as 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.
Oli. Make your proof.

Clo. I must catechize you for it, madonna: good my mouse of virtue, answer me.

Oli. Well, sir, for want of other idleness, I'll bide your proof.

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Clo. Good madonna, why mournest thou? Oli. Good fool, for my brother's death. Clo. I think his soul is in hell, madonna. Oli. I know his soul is in heaven, fool.

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? 80

Mal. Yes; and shall do till the pangs of death shake him infirmity, that decays the wise, doth ever make the better fool.

:

will be sworn that I am no fox, but he will not pass his word for two pence that you are no fool.

Clo. God send you, sir, a speedy infirmity, for the better increasing your folly! Sir Toby

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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 pro. test, I take these wise men, that crow so at these set kind of fools, no better than the fools' zanies.

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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 drowned: go, look after him.

Clo. He is but mad yet, madonna; and the fool shall look to the madman. Exit.

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. Ha's been told so; and he says, he'll stand at your door like a sheriff's post, and be the supporter to a bench, but he'll speak with you. Oli. What kind o' man is he? Mal. Why, of mankind. Oli. What manner of man?

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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 penned, 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?

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Vio. Excellently done, if God did all. Oli. "Tis in grain, sir; 'twill endure wind and weather.

Vio. "Tis beauty truly blent, whose red and white Nature's own sweet and cunning hand laid on : Lady, you are the cruell'st she alive, If you will lead these graces to the grave And leave the world no copy.

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Oli. O sir, I will not be so hard-hearted; I will give out divers schedules of my beauty: it shall be inventoried, and every particle and utensil labelled to my will; as, Item, Two lips indifferent_red; Item, Two grey eyes with lids to them; Item, One neck, one chin, and so forth. Were you sent hither to praise me?

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Vio. I see you what you are: you are too proud;
But, if you were the devil, you are fair.
My lord and master loves you: O! such love
Could be but recompens'd, though you were
crown'd

The nonpareil of beauty.
Oli.
How does he love me?
Vio. With adorations, with fertile tears,
With groans that thunder love, with sighs of fire.
Oli. Your lord does know my mind; I cannot
love him:

Yet I suppose him virtuous, know him noble,
Of great estate, of fresh and stainless youth; 280