SIR To. Fie, that you'll say so! he plays o' the viol-de-gamboys,(1) and speaks three or four languages word for word without book, and hath all the good gifts of nature.

MAR. He hath, 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 among the prudent, he would quickly have the gift of a grave.

SIR TO. By this hand, they are scoundrels and substractors, that say so of him. Who are they? MAR. They that add moreover, he's drunk nightly in your company.

SIR TO. With drinking healths to my niece; I'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,

MAR. Fare you well, gentlemen.

SIR To. An thou let part so, sir Andrew, would thou might'st never draw sword again.

SIR AND. An you part so, mistress, I would I might never draw sword again. Fair lady, do you think you have fools in hand?

MAR. Sir, I have not you by the hand.

SIR AND. Marry, but you shall have, and here's my hand.

MAR. Now, sir, thought is free: I pray you, bring your hand to the buttery-bar, (3) and let it drink.

SIR AND. Wherefore, sweet heart? what's your metaphor?

MAR. It's dry, sir.a

SIR TO. O knight, thou lack'st a cup of canary: when did I see thee so put down?

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.

:

SIR To. No question.

SIR AND. 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: O, had I but followed the arts!

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 huswife take thee between her legs and spin it off.

SIR AND. Faith, I'll home to-morrow, sir Toby: your niece will not be seen; or if she be,

b It will not curl by nature.] The old text reads, it will not cool my nature. Corrected by Theobald.

it's four to one she'll none of me; the count himself, here hard by, wooes 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't. 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 kick-shaws, 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? (4) 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.

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.

Enter DUKE, CURIO, and Attendants. DUKE. Who saw Cesario, ho?

Vro. On your attendance, my lord; here. DUKE. Stand you awhile aloof.-Cesario, Thou know'st no less but all; I have unclasp'd To thee the book even of my secret soul: Therefore, good youth, address thy gait unto her; Be not denied access, stand at her doors, And tell them, there thy fixed foot shall grow, Till thou have audience.

VIO.

Sure, my noble lord, If she be so abandon'd to her sorrow As it is spoke, she never will admit me. DUKE. Be clamorous, and leap all civil bounds, Rather than make unprofited return.

[then? V10. Say, I do speak with her, my lord, what 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;
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: yet, [Aside.] a barful strife!
Whoe'er I woo, myself would be his wife.

[Exeunt.

MAR. A good lenten* answer: I can tell thee where that saying was born, of, I fear no colours. CLO. Where, good mistress Mary?

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 long absent; or, to be turned away,-is not that as 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.

a

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.

MAR. Peace, you rogue, no more o' that. Here comes my lady: make your excuse wisely, you were best. [Exit. CLO. Wit, and 't be thy will, put me into good fooling! Those wits, that think they have thee, do oft very fools; prove 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.

Enter OLIVIA, MALVOLIO, and Attendants.

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,

(*) Old copy, lenton.

Or, if both [points] break, your gaskins fall.] See note (e), p. 250, Vol. I.

b That's as much to say as,-] In modern editions this is usually printed in conformity with modern construction,"That's as much as to say;" but the form in the text was not uncommon in old language:-" And yet it is said,-labour in thy vocation; which is as much to say as," &c.-" Henry VI." (Part VOL. II.

241

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.

OLI. Sir, I bade them take away you.

t

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. Dexterously, 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.

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?

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

CLO. God send you, sir, a speedy infirmity, for the better increasing your folly! Sir Toby will be sworn that I am no fox; but he will not pass his word for two pence that you are no fool.

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

OLI. O, you are sick of self-love, Malvolio, and taste with a distempered appetite. To be generous, guiltless, and of free disposition, is to take those things for bird-bolts, that you deem cannon-bullets: there is no slander in an allowed fool, though he do nothing but rail; nor no railing in a known discreet man, though he do nothing but reprove.

CLO. Now Mercury endue thee with leasing, for thou speakest well of fools.

Second), Act IV. Sc. 2. An ordinary fool,- An ordinary fool may mean a common fool; but more probably, as Shakespeare had always an eye to the manners of his own countrymen, he referred to a jester hired to make sport for the diners at a public ordinary.

d Now Mercury endue thee with leasing, for thou speakest well of fools.] The humour of this is not very conspicuous even by the light of Johnson's comment," May Mercury teach thee to lie, since thou liest in favour of fools!"

R

Re-enter MARIA.

MAR. Madam, there is at the gate a young gentleman, much desires to speak with you. OLI. From the count Orsino, is it?

MAR. I know not, madam; 'tis a fair young man, and well attended.

OLI. Who of my people hold him in delay ?
MAR. Sir Toby, madam, your kinsman.

OLI. Fetch him off, I pray you; he speaks nothing but madman: fie on him! [Exit MARIA.] Go you, Malvolio: if it be a suit from the count, I am sick, or not at home; what you will, to dismiss it. [Exit MALVOLIO.] Now you see, sir, how your fooling grows old, and people dislike it.

CLO. Thou hast spoke for us, madonna, as if thy eldest son should be a fool,-whose skull Jove cram with brains! for here he comes, one of thy kin, has a most weak pia mater.

OLI. Cousin, cousin, how have you come so early by this lethargy?

SIR TO. Lechery! I defy lechery. There's one at the gate.

OLI. Ay, marry; what is he?

SIR TO. Let him be the devil, an he will, I care not: give me faith, say I. Well, it's all one. [Exit. 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 Clown.

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 fore-knowledge 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. H'as been told so; and he says, he'll

stand at your door like a sheriff's post,(6) and be the supporter to a bench, but he'll speak with you. OLI. What kind o' man is he? MAL. Why, of man kind. OLI. What manner of man?

MAL. Of very ill manner; he'll speak with you, will you or no.

OLI. Of what personage and years is he?

enough for a boy; as a squash is before 'tis a peasMAL. Not yet old enough for a man, nor young cod, or a codling when 'tis almost an apple: 'tis with him in standing water, between boy and man. He is very well-favoured, and he speaks very shrewishly; one would think his mother's milk were scarce out of him.

OLI. Let him approach; call in my gentle

Vio. The honourable lady of the house, which is she?

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 loth 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.

a

ŎLI. Whence came you, sir?

VIO. I can say little more than I have studied, and that question's out of my part. Good gentle one, give me modest assurance if you be the lady of the house, that I may proceed in my speech. OLI. Are you a comedian?

VIO. No, my profound heart: and yet, by the very fangs of malice I swear, I am not that I play. Are you the lady of the house?

OLI. If I do not usurp myself, I am.

VIO. Most certain, if you are she, you do usurp yourself; for what is yours to bestow is not yours to reserve. But this is from my commission: I will on with my speech in your praise, and then show the heart of my message. you

(*) Old copy, Violenta.

a Comptible,-] This must mean impressible, susceptive, sensible.