+ Method of life Or thy affection cannot hold the bent: || Affected

For women are as roses; whose fair flower, |
Being once display'd, doth fall that very hour.
Vio. And so they are: alas, that they are so;
To die, even when they to perfection grow!

Re-enter CURIO, and CLOWN.

Duke. O fellow, come, the song we had last
night :-

Mark it, Cesario; it is old, and plain:
The spinsters and the knitters in the sun,
And the free maids, that weave their thread
with bones,

Do use to chaunt it; it is silly sooth,t

And dallies with the innocence of love,
Like the old age.‡

Clo. Are you ready, Sir?

Duke. Ay; pr'ythee, sing.

SONG.

Clo. Come away, come away, death,

And in sad cypress let me be laid;

Fly away, fly away, breath;

I am slain by a fair cruel maid.

In faith, they are as true of heart as we.
My father had a daughter lov'd a man,
As it might be, perhaps, were I a woman,
I should your lordship.

Duke. And what's her history?

Vio. A blank, my lord: She never told her

love,

[Music. But let concealment, like a worm i'the bud, Feed on her damask cheek: she pin'd in

My shroud of white, stuck all with yew,

Õ, prepare

it;

My part of death no one so true

Did share it.

ing, Sir.

Duke. I'll pay thy pleasure then.

Clo. Truly, Sir, and pleasure will be paid, one time or another.

Duke. Give me now leave to leave thee.

Clo. Now, the melancholy god protect thee;
and the tailor make thy doublet of changeable
taffata, for thy mind is a very opal.-I would
have men of such constancy put to sea, that
their business might be every thing, and their
intent every where; for that's it, that always
makes a good voyage of nothing.-Farewell.
[Exit CLOWN.

Duke. Let all the rest give place.-
[Exeunt CURIO and Attendants.

Once more, Cesario,
Get thee to yon' same sovereign cruelty :
Tell her, my love, more noble than the world,
Prizes not quantity of dirty lands;
The parts that fortune hath bestow'd upon her,
Tell her, I hold as giddily as fortune;
But 'tis that miracle, and queen of gems,
That nature pranks| her in, attracts my soul.
Vio. But, if she cannot love you, Sir?
Duke. I cannot be so answer'd.

Vio. 'Sooth, but you must.

Say, that some lady, as, perhaps, there is.
Hath for your love as great a pang of heart
As you have for Olivia: you cannot love her;
You tell her so; Must she not then be answer'd?

Duke. There is no woman's sides,
Can bide the beating of so strong a passion
As love doth give my heart: no woman's heart
So big, to hold so much; they lack retention.
Alas, their love may be call'd appetite, -
No motion of the liver, but the palate,-

thought;

And, with a green and yellow melancholy,
She sat like Patience on a monument,
Smiling at grief. Was not this love, indeed?
We men may say more, swear more: but, in-
[prove
Our shows are more than will; for still we
Much in our vows, but little in our love.

deed,

Duke. But died thy sister of her love, my boy! Vio. I am all the daughters of my father's [not:And all the brothers too; and yet I know Sir, shall I to this lady?

house,

Duke. Ay, that's the theme.

To her in haste; give her this jewel; say,
My love can give no place, bide no denay.*

[Exeunt.

SCENE V. - OLIVIA'S Garden.

Enter Sir TOBY BELCH, Sir ANDREW AGUE-
CHEEK, and FABIAN.

Sir To. Come thy ways, Signior Fabian. Fab. Nay, I'll come; if I lose a scruple of this sport, let me be boiled to death with melancholy.

Sir To. Would'st thou not be glad to have the niggardly rascally sheep-biter come by some notable shame?

Fab. I would exult, man: you know, he brought me out of favour with my lady, about a bear-baiting here.

Sir To. To anger him, we'll have the bear again; and we will fool him black and blue:Shall we not, Sir Andrew?

Sir And. An we do not, it is pity of our lives.

Enter MARIA.

Sir To. Here comes the little villain :-How now, my nettle of India?

Mar. Get ye all three into the box-tree: Malvolio's coming down this walk; he has been yonder i'the sun, practising behaviour to his own shadow, this half hour: observe him, for the love of mockery; for, I know, this letter will make a contemplative ideot of him. Close, in the name of jesting! [The men hide themselves.] Lie thou there; [throws down a letter.] for here comes the trout that must be caught with tickling. [Exit MARIA.

Enter MALVOLIO.

Mal. 'Tis but fortune; all is fortune. Maria once told me, she did affect me: and I have heard herself come thus near, that, should she fancy,t it should be one of my complexion. Besides, she uses me with a more exalted re

spect than any one else that follows her. What should I think on't?

Sir To. Here's an over-weening rogue!

Fab. O, peace peace! Contemplation makes a rare turkey-cock of him; how he jets under his advanced plumes!

Sir And. 'Slight, I could so beat the rogue:-
Sir To. Peace, I say.

Mal. To be Count Malvolio ;

Sir To. Ah, rogue!

Sir And. Pistol him, pistol him.

Sir To. Peace, peace!

Mal. There is example for't; the lady of the strachy married the yeoman of the wardrobe. Sir And. Fie on him, Jezebel!

Fab. O, peace! now he's deeply in; look,

how imagination blowst him.

Mal. Having been three months married to her, sitting in my state,‡

Sir To. O, for a stone-bow, to hit him in the eye!

Mal. Calling my officers about me, in my branched velvet gown; having come from a day-bed, where I left Olivia sleeping:

Sir To. Fire and brimstone!

Fab. O, peace, peace!

Mul. And then to have the humour of state: and after a demure travel of regard, -telling them, I know my place, as I would they should do theirs, to ask for my kinsman Toby:

Sir To. Bolts and shackles!

Fab. O, peace, peace, peace! now, now. Mal. Seven of my people, with an obedient start, make out for him: I frown the while; and, perchance, wind up my watch, or play with some rich jewel. Toby approaches; court'sies there to me:

Sir To. Shall this fellow live?

Fab. Though our silence be drawn from us with ears; yet peace.

Mal. I extend my hand to him thus, quenching my familiar smile with an austere regard of control:

Sir To. And does not Toby take you a blow o'the lips then?

Mal. Saying, Cousin Toby, my fortunes having cast me on your niece, give me this prerogative of speech:

Sir To. What, what?

Mal. You must amend your drunkenness.
Sir To. Out, scab!

Fab. Nay, patience, or we break the sinews

of our plot.

Mal. Besides, you waste the treasure of your time with a foolish knight;

Sir And. That's me, I warrant you.

Mal. One Sir Andrew:

Fab. This wins him, liver and all.
Mal. [Reads] Jove knows, 1 love:

But who?

Lips do not move,
No man must know.

No man must know. What follows? the num-
bers altered!-No man must know:-If this
should be thee, Malvolio?

Sir To. Marry, hang thee, brock!*
Mal. I may command, where I adore:
But silence, like a Lucrece knife,
With bloodless stroke my heart doth gore;
M, O, A, I, doth sway my life.
Fab. A fustian riddle!

Sir To. Excellent wench, say I.

Mal. M, O, A, I, doth sway my life. Nay, but first, let me see,-let me see, - let me soc. Fab. What a dish of poison has she dressed him!

Sir To. And with what wing the stannyeli checks at it!

Mal. I may command where I adore. Why, she may command me; I serve her, she is my lady. Why, this is evident to any formal capacity. There is no obstruction in this ;-And the end, What should that alphabetical position portend? if I could make that resemble something in me, -Softly!-M, O, A, I.

Sir To. O, ay! make up that:- he is now at a cold scent.

Fab. Sowters will cry upon't, for all this, though it be as rank as a fox.

Mal. M, Malvolio ;-M,-why, that begins my name.

Fab. Did not I say, he would work it out? the cur is excellent at faults.

Mal. M, But then there is no consonancy in the sequel; that suffers under probation: A should follow, but O does.

Fab. And ó shall end, I hope.

Sir To. Ay, or I'll cudgel him, and make him cry, O.

Mal. And then I comes behind;

Fab. Ay, an you had any eye behind you, you might see more detraction at your heels, than fortunes before you.

Mal. M, O, A, I; -This simulation is not as the former:-and yet, to crush this a little, it would bow to me, for every one of these letters are in my name. Soft; here follows prose.If this fall into thy hand, revolve. In my stars 1 am above thee; but be not afraid of greatness: Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them. Thy fates open their hands; let thy blood and spirit embrace them. And, to inure thyself to what thou art like to be, cast thy humble slough,|| and appear fresh.

Sir And. I knew, 'twas I; for many do call Be opposite with a kinsman, surly with servants:

me fool.

Mal. What employment have we here?

[Taking up the letter.
Fab. Now is the woodcock near the gin.
Sir To. O, peace! and the spirit of humours
Intimate reading aloud to him!

Mal. By my life, that is my lady's hand: these be her very C's, her U's, and her T's; and thus makes she her great P's. It is, in contempt of question, her hand.

Sir And. Her C's, her U's, and her T's: Why that?

Mal. [Reads] To the unknown beloved, this, and my good wishes: her very phrases!-By your leave, wax.-Soft! and the impressure her Lucrece, with which she uses to seal: 'tis my lady: To whom should this be?

let thy tongue tang arguments of state; put thyself into the trick of singularity: She thus advises thee, that sighs for thee. Remember who commended thy yellow stockings; and wished to see thee ever cross-gartered: I say, remember. Go to; thou art made, if thou desirest to be so; if not, let me see thee a steward still, the fellow of servants, and not worthy to touch fortune's fingers. Farewell. She that would alter services with thee. The fortunate-unhappy. Day-light and champian discovers not more: this is open. I will be proud, I will read politic authors, I will baffle Sir Toby, I will wash off gross acquaintance, I will be point-device,** the very man. I do not now fool myself, to let imagination jade me; for every

Clo. I would therefore, my sister had had no

name, Sir.

Vio. Why, man?

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

Vio. Thy reason, man?

reason excites to this, that my lady loves me. |
She did commend w/yellow stockings of late,
she did praise my leg being cross-gartered;
and in this she manifests herself to my love,
and, with a kind of injunction, drives me to
these habits of her liking. I thank my stars, I
am happy. I will be strange, stout, in yellow
stockings, and cross-gartered, even with the
swiftness of putting on. Jove, and my stars
be praised! Here is yet a postscript. Thou
canst not choose but know who I am. If thou
entertainest my love, let it appear in thy smiling;
thy smiles become thee well: therefore in my pre-carest for nothing.
sence still smile, dear my sweet, I pr'ythee. Jove,
I thank thee. I will smile; I will do every
thing that thou wilt have me.

[Exit.

Fab. I will not give my part of this sport for a pension of thousands to be paid from the Sophy.

Sir To. I could marry this wench for this device.

Sir And. So could I too.

Clo. Troth, Sir, I can yield you none without words; and words are grown so false, I am loath to prove reason with them.

Vio. I warrant, thou art a merry fellow, and

Clo. 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?

Clo. 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

Sir To. And ask no other dowry with her, bigger; I am, indeed, not her fool, but her but such another jest.

Enter MARIA.

Sir And. Nor I neither.

Fab. Here comes my noble gull-catcher.

Sir To. Wilt thou set thy foot o' my neck?
Sir And. Or o' mine either?

Sir To. Shall I play my freedom at tray

trip, and become thy bond-slave?

Sir And. I'faith, or I either.

Sir To. Why, thou hast put him in such a dream, that, when the image of it leaves him, he must run mad.

Mar. Nay, but say true; does it work upon him?

Sir To. Like aqua-vitæ with a midwife.

Mar. If you will then see the fruits of the sport, mark his first approach before my lady: he will come to her in yellow stockings, and 'tis a colour she abhors; and cross-gartered, 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

excellent devil of wit!

Sir And. I'll make one too.

ACT III.

SCENE I.-OLIVIA's Garden.

[Exeunt.

Enter VIOLA, and CLOWN with a tabor.

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

Clo. No, Sir, I live by the church.

Vio. Art thou a churchman?

1

Clo. 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 liest by a beggar, if a beggar dwell near him: or, the church stands by the tabor, if thy tabor stand by the church.

Clo. 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 turned outward!

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

wanton.

• A boy's diversion three and trip, + Dwells, Kid,

corrupter of words.

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

Clo. 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?

Clo. Would not a pair of these have bred, Sir?
Vio. Yes, being kept together, and put to

use.

Clo. I would play lord Pandarus* of Phrygia, Sir, to bring a Cressida to this Troilus.

Vio. I understand you, Sir; 'tis well begg'd.

Clo. 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.

Vio. This fellow's 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 shows, is fit;

But wise men, folly-fallen, quite taint their wit.

Enter Sir TOBY BELCH and Sir ANDREW AGUE

CHEEK.

Oli. Give me leave, I beseech you: I did reason.