sport, mark his first approach before my lady: he will come to her in yellow stockings, and 'tis a colour she abhors; and crofs-garter'd, a fashion she detests; and he will smile upon her, which will now be so unsuitable to her disposition, being addicted to a melancholy as she is, that it cannot but turn him into a notable contempt: if you will see it, follow me.

Sir To. To the gates of Tartar, thou most ex

cellent devil of wit!

Sir And. I'll make one too.

[Eeunt.]

ACT III.

SCENE L

The same.

Enter VIOLA, and Clown with a tabor.

Vio. Save thee, friend, and thy musick: Dost thou live by thy tabor?

Clown. No, sir, I live by the church.

Vio. Art thou a churchman?

Clown. No such matter, sir; I do live by the church: for I do live at my house, and my house doth stand by the church.

Vio. So thou may'st say, the king lies by a beggar, if a beggar dwell near him; or, the church stands by thy tabor, if thy tabor stand by the church.

Clown. You have said, sir. -To see this age! - A sentence is but a cheveril glove to a good wit; How quickly the wrong side may be turn'd

outward!

Vio. Nay, that's certain; they, that dally nice ly with words, may quickly make them wanton.

Clown. I would therefore, my sister had had no name, sir.

Vio. Why, man?

Clown. Why, sir, her name's a word; and to dally with that word, might make my sister wan ton: But, indeed, words are very rascals, since bonds disgraced them.

Vio. Thy reason, man?

Clown. Troth, sir, I can yield you none without words; and words are grown so false, I am loth to prove reason with them.

Vio. I warrant, thou art a merry fellow, and carest for nothing.

Clown. Not so, sir, I do care for something: but in my conscience, sir, I do not care for you; if that be to care for nothing, sir, I would it would make you invisible.

Vio. Art not thou the lady Olivia's fool?

Clown. No, indeed, sir; the lady Olivia has no folly: she will keep no fool, sir, till she be married; and fools are as like husbands, as pilchards are to herrings, the husband's the bigger: I am, indeed, not her fool, but her corrupter of words.

Vio. I saw thee late at the count Orsino's.

Clown. Foolery, sir, does walk about the orb, like the sun; it shines every where. I would be sorry, sir, but the fool should be as oft with your master, as with my mistress: I think, I saw your wisdom there.

Vio. Nay, an thou pass upon me, I'll no more with thee. Hold, there's expences for thee. Clown. Now Jove, in his next commodity of hair, send thee a beard!

Vio. By my troth, I'll tell thee; I am almost sick for one; though I would not have it grow on my chin. Is thy lady within?

Clown. Would not a pair of these have bred, sir ?

Vio. Yes, being kept together, and put to use. Clown. I would play lord Pandarus of Phry. gia, sir, to bring a Cressida to this Troilus.

Vio. I understand you, sir; 'tis well begg'd. Clown. The matter, I hope, is not great, sir, begging but a beggar; Cressida was a beggar. My lady is within, sir. I will construe to them whence you come; who you are, and what you would, are out of my welkin: I might say, element; but the word is over-worn. [Exit.]

f

Vio. This fellow is wise enough to play' the

fool;

And, to do that well, craves a kind of wit:
He must observe their mood on whom he jests,
The quality of persons, and the time;

And, like the haggard, check at every feather
That comes before his eye. This is a practice,
As full of labour as a wise man's art:

For folly, that he wisely shews, is fit;

But wise men's folly, fall'n, quite taints their wit.

Enter Sir TOBY BELCH, and Sir ANDREW AGUE

CHEEK.

Sir To. Save you, gentleman.

Vio. And you, sir.

Sir And. Dieu vous garde, monsieur.

Vio. Et vous aussi; votre serviteur.

Sir And. I hope, sir, you are; and I am yours.

Sir To. Will you encounter the house? my niece is desirous you should enter, if your trade

be to her.

Vio. I am bound to your niece, sir: I mean, she is the list of my voyage.

Sir To. Taste your legs, sir, put them to

motion.

Vio. My legs do better understand me, sir, than I understand what you mean by bidding me taste my legs.

Sir To, I mean to go, sir, to enter.

Vio. I will answer you with gait and entrance: But we are prevented.

Enter OLIVIA, and MARIA.

Most excellent accomplish'd lady, the heavens rain odours on you!

Sir And. That youth's a rare courtier! Rain odours! well.

Vio. My matter hath no voice, lady but to your own most pregnant and vouchsafed ear. Sir And. Odours, pregnant, and vouchsafed: I'll get 'em all three all ready.

Oli. Let the garden door be shut, and leave me to my hearing. [Exeunt Sir TOBY, Sir ANDREW, and MARIA.]

Give me your band, sir.

Vio. My duty, madam, and most humble ser

vice.

Oli. What is your name?

Vio.

Cesario is your servant's name, fair princess.

Oli, My servant, sir! 'Twas never merry world,

Since lowly feigning was call'd compliment:
You are servant to the count Orsino, youth.
Vio. And he is yours, and his must needs be

yours;

Your servant's servant is your servant, madam, Oli. For him, I think not on him: for his

thoughts,

Would they were blanks, rather than fill'd with me!

Vio. Madam, I come to whet your gentle

thoughts

On his behalf:

Oli. O, by your leave, I pray you;
I bade you never speak again of him:
But, would you undertake another suit,
I had rather hear you to solicit that,
Than musick from the spheres.

Vio. Dear lady,

Oli. Give me leave, 'beseech you; I did send,
After the last enchantment you did here,
A ring in chase of you; so did I abuse
Myself, my servant, and I fear me, you:
Under your hard construction must I sit,
To force that on you, in a shameful cunning,
Which you knew none of yours: What might
you think?

Have you not set mine honour at the stake,
And baited it with all the unmuzzled thoughts
That tyrannous heart can think? To one of your
receiving

Enough in shewn; a cyprus, not a bosom,
Hides my heart: So let me hear you speak.
Vio. I pity you.

Oli. That's a degree to love.

Vio. No, not a grice; for 'tis a vulgar proof, That very oft we pity enemies.

Oli. Why then, methinks, 'tis time to smile

again :

O world, how apt the poor are to be proud!
If one should be a prey, how much the better
To fall before the lion, than the wolf? [Clock
strikes.]

The clock upbraids me with the waste of time,-
Be not afraid, good youth, I will not have you:
And yet, when wit and youth is come to harvest,
Your wife is like to reap a proper man:
There lies your way, due west,

Vio. Then westward-hoe: