OLI. Come to what is important in't: I forgive you the praise.

Vio. Alas, I took great pains to study it, and 'tis poetical.

OLI. It is the more like to be feigned: I pray you, keep it in. I heard you were saucy at my gates, and allowed your approach rather to wonder at you than to hear you. If you be not mad, be gone; if you have reason, be brief: 't is not that time of moon with me to make one in so skipping a dialogue.

MAR. Will you hoist sail, sir? here lies your way. Vio. No, good swabber; I am to hull here a little longer. Some mollification for your giant, sweet lady.

OLI. Tell me your mind.

Vio. I am a messenger.b

OLI. Sure, you have some hideous matter to deliver, when the courtesy of it is so fearful. Speak your office.

Vio. It alone concerns your ear. I bring no overture of war, no taxation of homage; I hold the olive in my hand: : my words are as full of peace as

OLI. In his bosom! in what chapter of his bosom?

Vio. To answer by the method, in the first of his heart.

OLI. O, I have read it; it is heresy. Have you no more to say?

VIO. Good madam, let me see your face.

OLI. Have you any commission from your lord to negotiate with my face? you are now out of your text: but we will draw the curtain, and show you the picture. Look you, sir, such a one I was this present: is't not well done? [Unveiling.

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

Vio. 'Tis beauty truly blent, whose red and white

Nature's own sweet and cunning hand laid on:
Lady, you are the cruel'st she alive,
If you will lead these graces to the grave,
And leave the world no copy.

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?

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;
In voices well divulg'd, free, learn'd, and valiant,
And, in dimension and the shape of nature,
A gracious person; but yet I cannot love him;
He might have took his answer long ago.

Vio. If I did love you in my master's flame,
With such a suffering, such a deadly life,
In your denial I would find no sense;
I would not understand it.
OLI.
Why, what would you?
Vio. Make me a willow cabin at your gate,
And call upon my soul within the house;
Write loyal cantons of contemned love,
And sing them loud even in the dead of night;
Holla your name to the reverberate hills,
And make the babbling gossip of the air
Cry out, Olivia! O, you should not rest
Between the elements of air and earth,
But you should pity me.

OLI. You might do much. What is your parentage?

Vro. Above my fortunes, yet my state is well: I am a gentleman.

OLI.

Get

lord; you to your I cannot love him: let him send no more; Unless, perchance, you come to me again, To tell me how he takes it. Fare you well: I thank you for your pains: spend this for me. VIO. I am no fee'd post, lady; keep your purse;

(*) Old copy omits, with.

In the old copy these lines are annexed to the preceding speech, thus,-"VIO... Some mollification for your Giant, sweete Ladie; tell me your minde, I am a messenger."

e To praise me?] That is, to value, to appraise me.

My master, not myself, lacks recompense.
Love make his heart of flint, that you shall love;
And let your fervour, like my master's, be
Plac'd in contempt! Farewell, fair cruelty. [Exit.
OLI. What is your parentage?
Above my fortunes, yet my state is well;
I am a gentleman.- -I'll be sworn thou art;
Thy tongue, thy face, thy limbs, actions, and spirit,
Do give thee five-fold blazon:-not too fast:-soft!
soft!

Unless the master were the man.-How now?
Even so quickly may one catch the plague?
Methinks, I feel this youth's perfections,
With an invisible and subtle stealth,

To creep in at mine eyes. Well, let it be.--
What ho, Malvolio!-

MAL.

Re-enter MALVOLIO.

Here, madam, at your
service.
OLI. Run after that same peevish messenger,
The county's man; he left this ring behind him
Would I or not; tell him, I'll none of it.
Desire him not to flatter with his lord,
Nor hold him up with hopes; I am not for him:
If that the youth will come this way to-morrow,
I'll give him reasons for 't. Hie thee, Malvolio.
MAL. Madam, I will.
[Exit.

OLI. I do I know not what; and fear to find
Mine eye too great a flatterer for my mind.
Fate, show thy force: ourselves we do not owe;
What is decreed must be ;-and be this so!

[Exeunt.

Enter ANTONIO and SEBASTIAN.

ANT. Will you stay no longer? nor will you not that I go with you?

SEB. By your patience, no: my stars shine darkly over me; the malignancy of my fate might perhaps distemper yours; therefore I shall crave of you your leave, that I may bear my evils alone: it were a bad recompense for your love, to lay any of them on you.

ANT. Let me yet know of you, whither you are bound.

SEB. No, sooth, sir; my determinate Voyage is mere extravagancy. But I perceive in you so excellent a touch of modesty, that you will not extort from me what I am willing to keep in; therefore it charges me in manners the rather to express myself. You must know of me, then, Antonio, my name is Sebastian, which I called Roderigo; my father was that Sebastian of Messaline, whom I know you have heard of: he left behind him myself and a sister, both born in an hour: if the heavens had been pleased, would we had so ended! but you, sir, altered that; for, some hour before you took me from the breach of the sea was my sister drowned.

ANT. Alas the day!

SEB. A lady, sir, though it was said she much resembled me, was yet of many accounted beautiful: but, though I could not, with such estimable wonder, over-far believe that, yet thus far I will boldly publish her-she bore a mind that envy could not but call fair. She is drowned already, sir, with salt water, though I seem to drown her remembrance again with more.

ANT, Pardon me, sir, your bad entertainment. SEB. O, good Antonio, forgive me your trouble! ANT. If you will not murder me for my love, let me be your servant.

SEB. If you will not undo what you have done, that is, kill him whom you have recovered, desire it not. Fare ye well at once: my bosom is full of kindness; and I am yet so near the manners of my mother, that upon the least occasion more, mine eyes will tell tales of me. I am bound to the count Orsino's court: farewell. ANT. The gentleness of all the gods go with thee!

[Exit.

I have many enemies in Orsino's court,
Else would I very shortly see thee there :
But, come what may, I do adore thee so,
That danger shall seem sport, and I will go. [Exit.

Vio. She took the ring of me ;-I'll none of it. MAL. Come, sir, you peevishly threw it to her; and her will is, it should be so returned: if it be worth stooping for, there it lies in your eye; if not, be it his that finds it. Exit.

VIO. I left no ring with her. What means this lady?

Fortune forbid, my outside have not charm'd her!
She made good view of me; indeed, so much,
That methought her eyes had lost her tongue,
For she did speak in starts distractedly.
She loves me, sure; the cunning of her passion
Invites me in this churlish messenger.
None of my lord's ring! why, he sent her none.
I am the man! If it be so,-as 'tis,—
Poor lady, she were better love a dream.
Disguise, I see, thou art a wickedness,
Wherein the pregnant enemy does much.
How easy is it for the proper-false

In women's waxen hearts to set their forms!
Alas, our frailty is the cause, not we!
For, such as we are made of,† such we be.

How will this fadge? My master loves her dearly,
And I, poor monster, fond as much on him.
And she, mistaken, seems to dote on me:
What will become of this! As I am man,
My state is desperate for master's love;
my
As I am woman-now alas the day!—
What thriftless sighs shall poor Olivia breathe!
O time, thou must untangle this, not I;
It is too hard a knot for me t' untie !

[Exit.

SIR AND. Faith, so they say, but I think it rather consists of eating and drinking.

SIR TO. Thou'rt a scholar; let us therefore eat and drink.-Marian, I say!a stoop of wine!

SIR AND. Here comes the fool, i' faith.

Enter Clown.

CLO. How now, my hearts! Did you never see the picture of we three? (1)

SIR TO. Welcome, ass. Now let's have a catch. SIR AND. By my troth, the fool has an excellent breast. I had rather than forty shillings I had such a leg, and so sweet a breath to sing, as the fool has. In sooth, thou wast in very gracious fooling last night, when thou spok'st of Pigrogromitus, of the Vapians passing the equinoctial of Queubus; (2) 'twas very good, i' faith. I sent thee sixpence for thy leman: hadst it?

CLO. I did impeticos thy gratillity; for Malvolio's nose is no whipstock: my lady has a white hand, and the Myrmidons are no bottle-ale houses.

SIR AND. Excellent! Why, this is the best fooling, when all is done. Now, a song.

SIR TO. Come on; there is sixpence for you: let's have a song.

SIR AND. There's a testril of me too: if one

knight give a——

CLO. Would

good life?a

you

have a love-song, or a song of

SIR TO. A love-song, a love-song.

SIR AND. Ay, ay; I care not for good life.

CLO. What is love? 't is not hereafter;
Present mirth hath present laughter ;
What's to come is still unsure :
In delay there lies no plenty ;
Then come kiss me, sweet-and-twenty :a
Youth's a stuff will not endure.

SIR AND. A mellifluous voice, as I am true knight.

SIR TO. A contagious breath.

SIR AND. Very sweet and contagious, i'faith. SIR TO. To hear by the nose, it is dulcet in contagion. But shall we make the welkin dance indeed? Shall we rouse the night-owl in a catch that will draw three souls out of one weaver ? shall we do that?

SIR AND. An you love me, let's do't: I am dog at a catch.

CLO. By'r lady, sir, and some dogs will catch

well.

SIR AND. Most certain. Let our catch be, Thou knave.(3)

CLO. Hold thy peace, thou knave, knight? I shall be constrained in't to call thee knave, knight.

SIR AND. 'Tis not the first time I have constrained one to call me knave. Begin, fool; it begins, Hold thy peace.

CLO. I shall never begin, if I hold my peace. SIR AND. Good, i'faith! Come, begin. [They sing a catch.

a Sweet-and-twenty:] A proverbial endearment; thus in "The Merry Devil of Edmonton," "his little wanton wagtailes, his sweet and twenties, his pretty pinckineyd pigsnies," &c.

b Coziers' catches-] A cozier meant a botcher of clothes or shoes.

e Sneck-up.] A contemptuous exclamation, equivalent to "go hang: "

"And now, helter-skelter, to th' rest of the house:
The most are good fellows, and love to carouse;
Who's not may go sneck-up; he's not worth a louse
That stops a health i' th' round."

Song by Patrick Carey, "Come, faith, since I'm parting." (See
CHAPPELL'S Popular Music of the Olden Time, Vol. I. p. 289.)

SIR TO. We did keep time, sir, in our catches. Sneck-up.

с

MAL. Sir Toby, I must be round with you. My lady bade me tell you, that, though she harbours you as her kinsman, she's nothing allied to your disorders. If you can separate yourself and your misdemeanours, you are welcome to the house; if not, an it would please you to take leave of her, she is very willing to bid you farewell.

SIR TO. Farewell, dear heart, since I must needs be gone.(7) [Singing.

MAL. Nay, good sir Toby.

CLO. His eyes do show his days are almost

SIR To. Out o' tune, sir? ye lie.-Art any more than a steward? Dost thou think, because thou art virtuous, there shall be no more cakes and ale?

CLO. Yes, by Saint Anne; and ginger shall be hot i'the mouth too.

SIR TO. Thou'rt i' the right.-Go sir, rub your chain with crumbs. A stoop of wine, Maria!

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 insulting the Steward, and finds it in pretending he had decried their singing.

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 the butlery fly after him, to scouer his gold chain."