Page. Upon my life then you took the wrong. Page. Now, mistress! how chance you went Slen. What need you tell me that? I think not with master Slender?

so, when I took a boy for a girl: If I had been Mrs. Page. Why went you not with master married to him, for all he was in women's ap-doctor, maid? parel, I would not have had him.

Let it be so:-Sir John,
To master Brook you yet shall hold your word;

Anne. Pardon, good father! good my mother, For he to-night shall lie with mistress Ford. pardon!

The element itself, till seven years heat,
Shail not behold her face at ample view;
But, like a cloistress, she will veiled walk,
And water once a day her chamber round
With eye-offending brine: all this, to season
A brother's dead love, which she would keep
And lasting, in her sad remembrance. [freshi,
Duke. O, she, that hath a heart of that fine
To pay this debt of love but to a brother, [frame,
How will she love, when the rich golden shaft
Hath killed the flock of all affections else
That live in her! when liver, brain, and heart,
These sovereign thrones, are all supplied, and
(Hersweet perfections) with one self-king! [fill'd
Away before me to sweet beds of flowers;
Love-thoughts lie rich, when canopied with
bowers.
[Exeunt.

SCENE II.-The Sea Coast.
Enter VIOLA, Captain, and Sailors.
Vio. What country, friends, is this?
Cap.

Illyria, lady.
Vio. And what should I do in Illyria?
My brother he is in Elysium.
Perchance he is not drown'd:-What think you,

sailors?

Doth oft close in pollution, yet of thee
I will believe, thou hast a mind that suits
With this thy fair and outward character.
I pray thee, and I'll pay thee bounteously,
Conceal me what I am; and be my aid
For such disguise as, haply, shall become
The form of my intent. I'll serve this duke:
Thou shalt present me as an eunuch to him,
It may be worth thy pains; for I can sing,
And speak to him in many sorts of musick,
That will allow me very worth his service.
What else may hap, to time I will commit;
Only shape thou thy silence to my wit.

Cap. Be you his eunuch, and your mute I'll be When my tongue blabs, then let mine eyes not [Exeunt.

see!

Vio. I thank thee: Lead me on.

SCENE III.-A Room in Olivia's House.

Enter SIR TOBY BELCH and MARIA. Sir To. What a plague means my niece, to take the death of her brother thus? I am sure. care's an enemy to life.

Mar. By my troth, Sir Toby, you must come in earlier o'nights; your cousin, my lady, takes great exceptions to your ill hours.

Sir To. Why, let her except before excepted. Mar. Ay, but you must confine yourself within the modest limits of order.

[saved. Cap. It is perchance that you yourself were Vio. O my poor brother! and so, perchance, may he be. [chance, Cap. True, madam; and, to comfort you with Assure yourself, after our ship did split, [you, When you, and that poor number saved with Hung on our driving boat, I saw your brother, Most provident in peril, bind himself {tice) (Courage and hope both teaching him the prac-you: I heard my lady talk of it yesterday; and

To a strong mast, that lived upon the sea.
Where, like Arion on the dolphin's back,

I saw him hold acquaintance with the waves,
So long as I could see.

Vio.

For saying so, there's gold:
Mine own escape unfoldeth to my hope,
Whereto thy speech serves for authority,
The like of him. Know'st thou this country?
Cap. Ay, madam, well; for I was bred and born
Not three hours' travel from this very place.
Vio. Who governs here?
Cap.

As in his name.

Vio.
Cap.

Sir To. Confine? I'll confine myself no finer than I am: these clothes are good enough, to drink in, and so be these boots too; an they be not,let them hang themselves in their own straps. Mar. That quaffing and drinking will undo

of a foolish knight, that you brought in one
night here, to be her wooer.

Sir To. Who, Sir Andrew Ague-check?
Mar. Ay, he.

[year.

Sir To. He's as tall a man as any's in Illyria.
Mar. What's that to the purpose?
Sir To. Why, he has three thousand ducats a
Mar. Ay, but he'll have but a year in all these
ducats; he's a very fool and a prodigal.

Sir To. Fye, that you'll say so! he plays o' the
viol-de-gambo, and speaks three or four lan-
A noble duke, in nature,guages word for word without book, and hath
all the good gifts of nature.
What is his name?

Orsino.

Vio. Orsino! I have heard my father name He was a bachelor then. [him

Cap.

And so is now,
Or was so very late: for but a month
Ago I went from hence; and then 'twas fresh
In murmur (as you know, what great ones do,
The less will pratle of), that he did seek
The love of fair Olivia.

Vio.

What's she?

Cap. A virtuous maid, the daughter of a count That died some twelvemonth since; then ing her

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 leav-my throat, and drink in Illyria: He's a coward, and a coystrill, that will not drink to my niece, till his brains turn o' the toe like a parish-top. What, wench? Castiliano volto; for here comes Sir Andrew Ague-face.

In the protection of his son, her brother,
Who shortly also died: for whose dear love
They say she hath abjur'd the company
And sight of men.
Vio.
O, that I serv'd that lady:
And might not be delivered to the world.
Till I had made mine own occasion mellow,
What my estate is.

Cap.
That were hard to compass;
Because she will admit no kind of suit,
No. not the duke's.

Vio. There is a fair behaviour in thee, captain;
And though that nature with a beauteous wall

Enter SIR ANDREW AGUE-CHEEK.

Sir And. Sir Toby Belch! how now, Sir Toby Beich?

Sir To. Sweet Sir Andrew!

Sir And. Bless you, fair shrew.

Mar. And you too, sir.

Sir To. Accost, Sir Andrew, accost.
Sir And. What's that?

Sir To. My niece's chamber-maid.

Sir And. Good mistress Accost, I desire better
Mar. My name is Mary, sir. [acquaintance.
Sir And. Good mistress Mary Accost,-
Sir To. You mistake, knight; accost, is, front
her, board her, woo her, assail her.

Sir And. By my troth, I would not undertake her in this company. Is that the meaning of accost?

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 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, and let it

drink.

Sir And. Wherefore, sweetheart? what's your metaphor?

Mar. It's dry, sir.

Sir And. Why, I think so; I am not such an ass, but I can keep my hand dry. But what's your jest?

Mar. A dry jest, sir.

Sir And. Are you full of them?

Mar. Ay, sir; I have them at my fingers' ends; marry, now I let go your hand, I am barren. [Exit MARIA. 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. And, I think I have the back trick, simply as strong as any man in Illyria.

Sir To. Wherefore are these things hid? wherofore have these gifts a curtain before them? are they like to take dust, like mistress Mall's picture? 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.

SCENE IV-A Room in the Duke's Palace. Enter VALENTINE, and VIOLA in man's attire. Val. If the Duke continue these favours towards you, Cesario, you are like to be much advanced; he hath known you but three days, and already you are no stranger.

Vio. You either fear his humour, or my negligence, that you call in question the continuance of his love: Is he inconstant, sir, in his favours? Val. No, believe me.

Enter DUKE, CURIO, and Attendants. Vio. I thank you. Here comes the count. Duke. Who saw Cesario, ho?

Vio. On your attendance, my lord; here. Duke. Stand you awhile aloof.-Cesario, Thou knows't no less but all; I have unclasp'd To thee the book even of my secret soul: Sir And. An I thought that, I'd forswear it. Therefore, good youth, address thy gait unto her; I'll ride home to morrow, Sir Toby. Sir To. Pourquoy, my dear knight?

Sir And. What is pourquoy? 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 Tc. Then hadst thou had an excellent head of hair.

[hair? Sir And. Why, would that have mended my Sir To. Past question; for thou seest it will not curl by nature.

Be not deny'd 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? Vio. 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, Sir To. Excellent; it hangs like flax on a dis-Than in a nuncio of more grave aspect. taff; and I hope to see a housewife take thee Vio. I think not so, my lord. between her legs and spin it off. Duke.

Sir And. But it becomes me well enough, does't not?

Sir And. 'Faith, I'll home to-morrow, Sir To by: your niece will not be seen; or, if she be, it's four to one she'll none of me: the count himself, here hard by, woos 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 it. Tut, there's life in't, man.

Sir And. Ill stay a month longer. I em a fellow o' the strangest mind i' the world; I deligt in masques and revels sometimes altogether.

Sir To. Art thou good at these kickshaws, knight

Sir And. As any man in Illyria, whatsoever
le be, under the degree of my betters; and yet
I will not compare with an old man. [knight?
Sir To. What is thy excellence in a galliard,
Sir And. 'Faith, I can cut a caper.
Si To. And I can cut the mutton to't

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 its 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.

SCENE V.-A Room in Olivia's House.
Enter MARIA and Clown.

Mar. Nay, either tell me where thou hast been,

Clo. Two faults, madonna, that drink and good Clo. Thou hast spoke for us, madonna, as if counsel will amend: for give the dry fool drink, thy eldest son should be a fool: whose skull Jove then is the fool not dry; bid the dishonest man cram with brains, for here he comes, one of thy mend himself; if he mend, he is no longer dis-kin, has a most weak pia mater. honest; 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, 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.

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 omes to speak with you: I told him you were asleep; he seems to have a foreknowledge 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. He has been told so: and he says, he'll stand at your door like a sheriff's post, and be the supporter of a bench, but he'll speak with you. Oli. What kind of 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? Mal. Not yet old enough for a man, nor young enough for a boy; as a squash is before 'tis a peascod, or a codling when 'tis almost an apple: 'tis with him e'en 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

woman.

Mal. Gentlewoman, my lady calls.
Re-enter MARIA.

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 matter.

Oli. Yet you began rudely. What are you? what would you?

Vio. The rudeness, that hath appear'd in me, have I learn'd from my entertainment. What I am, and what I would, are as secret as maidenhead: to your ears, divinity; to any other's, profanation.

this divinity. [Exit MARIA.] Now, sir, what is your text?

Oli. Give us the place alone; we will hear

Vio. Most sweet lady,--

Oli. A comfortable doctrine, and much may gentle-be said of it. Where lies your text?

[Exil.

Vio. In Orsino's bosom?

Oli. In his bosom? in what chapter of his bosom?

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

Oli. Give me my veil; come, throw it o'er his heart. my face:

We'll once more hear Orsino's embassy.

Enter VIOLA.

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 unmatch-a able beauty, I pray you, tell me, if this be the lady of the house, for I never saw her: I would be loath to cast away my speech; for, besides that it is excellently well penn'd, 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.

Oli. Whence came you, sir?

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

Vio. Good madam, let me see your face.

Oli. Have you any commission from your lord to negociate with my face? you are now out of your text: but we will draw the curtain and shew you the picture. Look you, sir, such one as I was, this presents:-Is't not well done? [Unveiling.

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

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,

Vio. I can say little more than I have studied,
and that question's out of my part. Good gen-And leave the world no copy.
tle 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. 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 gray 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;

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 But, if you were the devil, you are fair. not yours to reserve. But this is from my com- My lord and master loves you; O, such love mission: I will on with my speech in your Could be but recompens'd, though you were praise, and then shew you the heart of my mes-The nonpareil of beauty! [crown'd sage.

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: 'tis not that time of moon with me, to make one in so skipping a dialogue.

Oli.
How does he love me?
Tio. 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;
Invoices 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,