Enter OLIVIA and MARIA. Most excellent accomplished 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 ready. Oli. Let the garden door be shut, and leave me to my hearing. [Exeunt Sir TOBY, Sir ANDREW, and MARIA. Give me your hand, sir. Vio. My duty, madam, and most humble service. 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. 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, 5- most pregnant and vouchsafed car.] Pregnant for ready ; Touchsafed for vouchsafing. I had rather hear you to solicit that, Vio. Dear lady, Oli. Give me leave, I beseech you: I did send, Have you not set mine honour at the stake, receiving Enough is shown; a cyprus," not a bosom, Oli. That's a degree to love. Vio. No, not a grise; for 'tis a vulgar proof, That very oft we pity enemies. your Oli. Why, then, methinks, 'tis time to smile O world, how apt the poor are to be proud! [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: To one of your receiving-] i. e. to one of your ready apprehension 7 8 a cyprus,] is a transparent stuff. a grise] is a step, sometimes written grecse, from degres, French. 9 'tis a vulgar proof,] That is, it is a common proof. VOL. II. F Then westward-hoe: There lies your way, due west. Vio. I pr'ythee, tell me, what thou think'st of me. Oli. O, what a deal of scorn looks beautiful A murd'rous guilt shows not itself more soon By maidhood, honour, truth, and every thing, Oli. Yet come again: for thou, perhaps, may'st move That heart, which now abhors, to like his love. [Exeunt. And that no woman has;] And that heart and bosom I have never yielded to any woman. SCENE II. A Room in Olivia's House. Enter Sir TOBY BELCH, Sir ANDREW AGUE-CHEEK, and FABIAN. Sir And. No, faith, I'll not stay a jot longer. Sir To. Thy reason, dear venom, give thy reason. Fab. You must needs yield your reason, sir Andrew. Sir And. Marry, I saw your niece do more favours to the count's serving man, than ever she bestowed upon me; I saw't i'the orchard. Sir To. Did she see thee the while, old boy? tell me that? Sir And. As plain as I see you now. Fab. This was a great argument of love in her toward you. Sir And. 'Slight! will you make an ass o' me? Fab. I will prove it legitimate, sir, upon the oaths of judgment and reason. Sir To. And they have been grand jury-men, since before Noah was a sailor. Fab. She did show favour to the youth in your sight, only to exasperate you, to awake your dormouse valour, to put fire in your heart, and brimstone in your liver: You should then have accosted her; and with some excellent jests, fire-new from the mint, you should have banged the youth into dumbness. This was looked for at your hand, and this was baulked the double gilt of this opportunity you let time wash off, and you are now sailed into the north of my lady's opinion; where you will hang like an icicle on a Dutchman's beard, unless you do redeem it by some laudable attempt, either of valour, or policy. Sir And. And't be any way, it must be with valour; for policy I hate: I had as lief be a Brownist," as a politician. 2 Sir To. Why then, build me thy fortunes upon the basis of valour. Challenge Challenge me the count's youth to fight with him; hurt him in eleven places; my niece shall take note of it: and assure thyself, there is no love-broker in the world can more prevail in man's commendation with woman, than report of valour. Fab. There is no way but this, sir Andrew. Sir. And. Will either of you bear me a challenge to him? Sir To. Go write it in a martial hand; be curst3 and brief; it is no matter how witty, so it be eloquent, and full of invention: taunt him with the licence of ink: if thou thou'st him some thrice, it shall not be amiss; and as many lies as will lie in thy sheet of paper, although the sheet were big enough for the bed of Ware in England, set 'em down; go, about it. Let there be gall enough in thy ink; though thou write with a goose-pen, no matter: About it. Sir And. Where shall I find you? Sir To. We'll call thee at the cubiculo: Go. [Exit Sir ANDRew. Fab. This is a dear manakin to you, sir Toby. Sir To. I have been dear to him, lad; some two thousand strong, or so. Fab. We shall have a rare letter from him: but you'll not deliver it. 2 as lief be a Brownist,] The Brownists were so called from Mr. Robert Browne, a noted separatist in Queen Elizabeth's reign. in a martial hand; be curst-] Martial hand, seems to be a careless scrawl, such as shewed the writer to neglect ceremony. Curst, is petulant, crabbed. |