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you are fair.
Oli. Come to what is important in't: I forgive Vio. 'Tis beauty truly blent, whose red and you the praise.
white Vio. Alas, I took great pains to study it, and Nature's own sweet and cunning hand laid on : 'tis poetical.
Lady, you are the cruel’st she alive, Oli. It is the more like to be feigned: I If
will lead these graces to the grave, you, keep it in. I heard you were saucy at my
And leave the world no copy. gates, and allowed your approach rather to wonder Oli. O, sir, I will not be so hard-hearted ; I at you than to hear you. If
you be noto mad, be will give out divers schedules of my beauty: it shall gone; if you have reason, be brief: 'tis not that be inventoried, and every particle and utensil, time of moon with me to make one in so skipping labelled to my will: as, item, two lips indifferent a dialogue.
red; iten, two grey eyes, with lids to them ; item, Mar. Will you hoist sail, sir ? here lies your way. one neck, one chin, and so forth. Were you sent
V10. No, good swabber; I am to hull here a hither to praise me? little longer. -Some mollification for your giant, Vro. I see you what you are, you are too proud; sweet lady.
But, if you were the devil, OLI. Tell me your mind.
My lord and master loves you : 0), such love V10. I am a messenger. "
Could be but recompens’d, though you were crown'd OLI. Sure, you have some hideous matter to The nonpareil of beauty ! deliver, when the courtesy of it is so fearful. Speak OLI.
How does he love me?
Vio. With adorations, with * fertile tears, V1o. It alone concerns your ear. I bring no With
groans that thunder love, with sighs of fire. overture of war, no taxation of homage; I hold the Oli. Your lord does know my mind, I cannot olive in my hand : my words are as full of peace as
love him: matter.
Yet I suppose him virtuous, know him noble, Oli. Yet you began rudely. What are you? Of great estate, of fresh and stainless youth ; what would
In voices well divulg'd, free, learn'd, and valiant, V'10. The rudeness that hath appeared in me And, in dimension and the shape of nature, nave I learned from my entertainment. What I A gracious person ; but yet I cannot love him ; am, and what I would, are as secret as maiden- He might have took his answer long ago. head: to your ears, divinity ; to any other's, pro- Vio. If I did love
master's flame, fanation.
With such a suffering, such a deadly life, Oli. Give us the place alone: we will hear this In
denial I would find no sense ; divinity. [Exit Maria.] Now, sir, what is your I would not understand it. text?
Why, what would you ? V10. Most sweet lady,
V10. Make me a willow cabin at your gate, OLI, A comfortable doctrine, and much may And call upon my soul within the house ; said of it. Where lies your text?
Write loyal cantons of contemned love, Vio. In Orsino's bosom.
And sing them loud even in the dead of night; OLI. In his bosom! in what chapter of his Holla your name to the reverberate hills, bosom?
And make the babbling gossip of the air V10. To answer by the method, in the first of Cry out, Olivia ! O, you should not rest his heart.
Between the elements of air and earth, Oli. O, I have read it; it is heresy. Have you But you should pity me. no more to say ?
Oli. You might do much. What is your paV10. Good madam, let me see your face.
rentage? Oli. Have you any commission from your
lord V10. Above my fortunes, yet my state is well : to negotiate with my face ? you are now out of I am a gentleman. your text: but we will draw the curtain, and show
you you the picture. Look you, sir, such a one I was I cannot love him : let him send no more ; this present: is't not well done? [Unveiling. Unless, perchance, you come to me again, Vio. Excellently done, if God did all.
To tell me how he takes it. Fare you well: OLI. 'Tis in grain, sir ; 't will endure wind and I thank you
your pains : spend this for me. weather.
V10. I am no fee'd post, lady; keep your purse;
to your lord;
a Il you be not mad,-1 We should perhaps read—“If you be but mad," &c. that is, " If you are a mere madman, begone," &c. No two words are more frequently confounded in these plays than mal and bul.
Oli. Tell me your mind.
V10. I am a messenger.) 243
(*) old copy omits, with. In the old copy these lines are annexed to the preceding speech, thus,"V1o. . . Some mollification for your Giant, sweete Ladie i tell me your minde, I am a messenger," ¢ To praise me?] That is, to value, to appraise me.
My master, not myself, lacks recompense. .
Re-enter MALVOLIO. Love make his heart of flint, that you
shall love; And let your fervour, like my master's, be
MAL. Here, madam, at your service. Plac'd in contempt! Farewell, fair cruelty. [Exit. Oli. Run after that same peevish messenger, OLI. What is your parentage ?
The county's man ; he left this ring behind him Above my fortunes, yet my state is well ;
Would I or not; tell him, I'll none of it. I am a gentleman.- -I'll be gworn thou art ; Desire him not to flatter with his lord, Thy tongue, thy face, thy limbs, actions, and spirit, Nor hold him up with hopes ; I am not for him : Do give thee five-fold blazon:—not too fast:-soft ! If that the youth will come this way to-morrow, soft !
I'll give him reasons for 't. Hie thee, Malvolio. Unless the master were the man.
w? MAL. Madam, I will. Even so quickly may one catch the plague ?
Oli. I do I know not what; and fear to find Methinks, I feel this youth's perfections,
eye too great a flatterer for my mind. With an invisible and subtle stealth,
Fate, show thy force : ourselves we do not owe; To creep in at mine eyes. Well, let it be.-- What is decreed must be ;—and be this so ! What ho, Malvolio !
Enter ANTONIO and SEBASTIAN.
Ant. Alas the day!
SEB. A lady, sir, though it was said she much Ant. Will you stay no longer? nor will you not resembled me, was yet of many accounted beauthat I go with you ?
tiful: but, though I could not, with such estimable SEB. By your patience, no: my stars shine wonder, over-far believe that, yet thus far I will darkly over me; the malignancy of my fate might boldly publish her—she bore å mind that envy perhaps distemper yours; therefore I shall crave could not but call fair. She is drowned already, of you your leave, that I may bear my evils sir, with salt water, though I seem to drown her alone: it were a bad recompense for your love, to remembrance again with more. lay any of them on you.
Ant, Pardon me, sir, your bad entertainment. Ant. Let me yet know of you,
SEB. O, good Antonio, forgive me your trouble! bound.
Ant. If you will not murder me for my love, Seb. No, sooth, sir ; my determinate voyage is let me be your servant. mere extravagancy. But I perceive in you so ex- SEB. If you will not undo what you have done, cellent a touch of modesty, that you will not extort that is, kill him whom you have recovered, desire from me what I am willing to keep in ; therefore it not. Fare ye well at once: my bosom is full of it charges me in manners the rather to express kindness; and I am yet so near the manners of myself. You must know of me, then, Antonio, my mother, that upon the least occasion more, my name is Sebastian, which I called Roderigo; mine eyes will tell tales of me. I am bound to my father was that Sebastian of Messaline, whom the count Orsino's court : farewell.
[Exit. I know you have heard of: he left behind him Ant. The gentleness of all the gods go with myself and a sister, both born in an hour : if the
thee! heavens had been pleased, would we had so ended! I have many enemies in Orsino's court, but you, sir, altered that; for, some hour before Else would I very shortly see thee there : you took me from the breach of the sea was my But, come what may, I do adore thee so, sister drowned.
That danger shall seem sport, and I will go. [Exit.
SCENE II.-A Street.
after midnight, is to be up betimes ; and diluculo Enter VIOLA; MALVOLIO following.
surgere, thou knowest,
Sir And. Nay, by my troth, I know not : but MAL. Were not you even now with the countess
I know, to be up late is to be
late. Olivia ?
Sir To. A false conclusion; I hate it as an V10. Even now, sir; on a moderate
unfilled can. I have
To be up after midnight, and to go
pace since arrived but hither.
to bed then, is early : so that, to go to bed after Mal. She returns this ring to you, sir ; you midnight, is to go to bed betimes. Does not our might have saved me my pains, to have taken it
life: consist of the four elements ? away yourself. She adds,
should Sir And. Faith, so they say, but I think it put your lord into a desperate assurance she will
rather consists of eating and drinking. none of him: and one thing more, that you be
Sir To. Thou’rt a scholar; let us therefore never so hardy to come again in his affairs, unless
eat and drink.- Marian, I say !
a stoop of it be to report your lord's taking of this. Receive wine !
Sir And. Here comes the fool, i' faith.
Clo. How now, my hearts ! Did you never see not, be it his that finds it."
the picture of we three ? (1) Vio. I left no ring with her. What means this
Sir To. Welcome, ass. Now let's have a catch.
Sin And. By my troth, the fool has an exFortune forbid, my outside have not charm'd her!
cellent breast. I had rather than forty shillings I She made good view of me; indeed, so much,
had such a leg, and so sweet a breath to sing, as That methought her eyes had lost her tongue,
the fool has. In sooth, thou wast in very gracious For she did speak in starts distractedly.
fooling last night, when thou spok’st of PigroShe loves me, sure ; the cunning of her passion
gromitus, of the Vapians passing the equinoctial of Invites me in this churlish messenger.
Queubus ; (2) 'twas very good, i' faith. I sent thee None of my lord's ring! why, he sent her none.
sixpence for thy leman: hadst it? I am the man ! If it be so,—as 't is,
Clo. I did impeticos thy gratillity; for MalPoor lady, she were better love a dream.
volio's nose is no whipstock: my lady has a white Disguise, I see, thou art a wickedness,
hand, and the Myrmidons are no bottle-ale houses. Wherein the pregnant enemy does much.
Sir And. Excellent! Why, this is the best How is it for the proper-false
fooling, when all is done. Now, a song. easy In women's waren hearts to set their forms !
Sir To. Come on; there is sixpence for
let's have a song. Alas, our* frailty is the cause, not we !
Sir And. There's a testril of me too: if one For, such as we are made of, † such we be. How will this fadge? My master loves her dearly, knight give a-And I, poor monster, fond as much on him.
Clo. Would you have a love-song, or a song of And she, mistaken, seems to dote on me : What will become of this! As I am man,
Sir To. A love-song, a love-song. My state is desperate for my master's love ;
Sin And. Ay, ay; I care not for good life. As I am woman-now alas the day !
Clo. O mistress mine, where are you roaming ? It is too hard a knot for me tuntie ! [Erit. 0, stay and hear ; your true-love's coming,
That can sing both high and low :
Trip no further, pretty sweeting ; SCENE III.- A Room in Olivia's Ilouse.
Journeys end in lovers' meeting, Enter Sir Toby Bench and Sir ANDREW AGUE- Every wise man's son doth know.
Sır And. Excellent good, i' faith! Sir To. Approach, sir Andrew : not to be a-bed Sir To. Good, good.
0. (t) Old text, if ; corrected by Tyrwhitt. Does not our life consist of the four elements ?] The old copy has lives, and the modern lection is," Lo not our lires," &c.; but see sir Andrew's rejoinder:-“I think, it ratiier consists," &c.
b An excellent breast.) Breast meant voice. The phrase is so common in our old writers that it would be superfiuous to cite examples of its use in this sense.
c Sixpence for thy leman :) The old copy reads lemon. Leman significd sureet-heart or mistress.
d A song of good life?] That is, a moral song.
Clo. What is love ? 't is not hereafter ; disposed, and so do I too; he does it with a better
Present mirth hath present laughter ; grace, but I do it more natural.
Sir To. O, the twelfth day of December,-
[Singing. Then come kiss me, sweet-and-twenty :: Mar. For the love o' God, peace!
o Youth's a stuff will not endure.
Enter MALVOLIO. SIR AND. A mellifluous voice, as I am true knight.
Mal. My masters, are you mad? or what are Sir To. A contagious breath.
? Have you no wit, manners, nor honesty, SIR AND. Very sweet and contagious, i’ faith. but to gabble like tinkers at this time of night ? Sir To. To hear by the nose, it is dulcet in Do
ye make an alehouse of my lady's house, that contagion. But shall we make the welkin dance
ye squeak out your coziers' catches without any indeed ? Shall we rouse the night-owl in a catch mitigation or remorse of voice? Is there no respect that will draw three souls out of one weaver ? shall
of place, persons, nor time, in you? we do that?
Sir To. We did keep time, sir, in our catches. Sir And. An you love me, let's do't: I am Sneck-up. dog at a catch.
Mal. Sir Toby, I must be round with you. My Clo. By'r lady, sir, and some dogs will catch
lady bade me tell you, that, though she harbours well.
you as her kinsman, she's nothing allied to your SIR AND. Most certain. Let our catch be, disorders. If you can separate yourself and your Thou knave.(3)
misdemeanours, you are welcome to the house ; if Clo. Hold thy peace, thou knave, knight? I not, an it would please you to take leave of her, shall be constrained in't to call thee knave, knight. she is very willing to bid you farewell. SIR AND. 'Tis not the first time I have con
Sir To. Farewell, dear heart, since I must strained one to call me knave. Begin, fool ; it needs be gone." (7)
[Singing. begins, Hold thy peace.
MAL. Nay, good sir Toby. Clo. I shall never begin, if I hold my peace. Clo. His eyes do show his days are almost SIR AND. Good, i' faith! Come, begin.
[Singing. [They sing a catch.
Mal. Is't even so ?
Mal. This is much credit to you.
Sir To. Shall I bid him go ? [Singing. MAR. What a caterwauling do you keep here ! Clo. What an if you do ?
[Singing. If my lady have not called up her steward, Mal- Sir To. Shall I bid him
and volio, and bid him turn you out of doors, never
[Singing. trust me.
Clo. O no, no, no, no, you dare not. Sir To. My lady's a Cataian, we are politi
[Singing. cians ; Malvolio's a Peg a-Ramsey, (4) and Three Sir To. Out o'tune, sir ? • ye lie.--Art any merry men be we.(5) Am not I consanguineous ? more than a steward? Dost thou think, because am I not of her blood ? Tilly-vally; lady! There thou art virtuous, there shall be no more cakes and dwelt a man in Babylon, lady, lady ! (6)
[Singing. Clo. Yes, by Saint Anne; and ginger shall be Clo. Beshrew me, the knight's in admirable hot i'the mouth too. fooling.
Sir To. Thou’rt i’ the right.-Go sir, rub your SIR AND. Ay, he does well enough, if he be chain with crumbs. A stoop of wine, Maria !
spare not ?
a Sweet-and-twenty :] A proverbial endearment; thus in “The Merry Devil of Edmonton," " -- his little wanton wagtailes, his sweet and lwenties, his pretty pinckineyd pigsnies," &c.
Coziers' calches-j A cozier meant a botcher of clothes or shoes.
c Sneck-up.) A contemptuous exclamation, equivalent to "go
The most are good fellows, and love to carouse;
That stops a health i' thround."
d Farewell, dear heart, &c.] This and the subsequent lines sung by sir Toby and the Clown are modified snatches of an ancient ballad, which will be found in the Illustrative Comments on this comedy.
e Out o' tune, sir !] Very needlessly changed to “Out of time !" in most editions. Sir Toby desires an excuse for insultirig the Steward, and finds it in pretending he had decried their sirging:
f Rub your chain with crumbs.] The steward's badge of office formerly was a gold chain, and the usual mode of cleaning plate was by rubbing it with crumbs. See Webster's play of "The Duchess of Malfy:"-"Yea, and the chippings of ihe butlery fly after him, to scouer his grld chain."