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with you.


Mal. He has been told so; and he says, he'll Vio. I am a messenger. stand at your door like a sheriff's post, and Oli. Sure, you have some hideous matter to De the supporter of a bench, but he'll speak deliver, when the courtesy of it is so fearful.

Speak your office. Oli. What kind of man is he?

Vio. It alone concerns your ear. I bring no Mal. Why, of man kind.

overture of war, po taxation of homage; I hold Oli. What manner of man?

the olive in my hand : my words are as full of Mal. Of very ill manner; he'll speak with peace as matter. you, will you, or no.

Oli. Yet you began rudely. What are you? Oli. Or what personage, and years, is he? what would you ?

Mal. Not yet old enough for a man, nor Vio. The rudeness, that hath appear'd in me, young enough for a boy; as a squash is before have I learn’d from my entertainment. What 'tis a pease-cod, or a codling when 'tis almost I am, and what I would, are as secret as an apple : 'tis with him e'en standing water, maidenhead: to your ears, divinity ; to any between boy and man. He is very well-favour other's, profanation. ed, and he speaks very shrewishly; one would Oli. Give us the place alone: we will hear think, his mother's milk were scarce out of him. this divinity. (Exit Maria.] Now, Sir, what Oli. Let him approach : Call in my gentle- is your text?

Vio. Most sweet lady,Mal. Gentlewoman, my lady calls. [Exit. Oli. A comfortable doctrine, and much may

be said of it. Where lies your text ? Re-enter MARIA.

Vio. In Orsino's bosom. Oli. Give me my veil : come, throw it o'er Oli. In his bosom? In what chapter of his my face;

bosom? We'll once more hear Orsino's embassy.

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

his heart. Enter Viola.

Oli. O, I have read it; it is heresy. Have Vio. The honourable lady of the house, which you no more to say? is she?

Vio. Good madam, let me see your face. Oli, Speak to me, I shall answer for her. Oli. Have you any commission from your Your will ?

lord to negociate with my face? you are now Vio. Most radiant, exquisite, and unmatch- out of your text: but we will draw the curtain, able beauty,-- I pray you, tell me, if this be the and show you the picture. Look you, Sir,

such lady of the house, for I never saw her: I would a one as I was this present :* Is't not well done? be loath to cast away my speech; for, besides

(Unveiling that it is excellently well penn'd,'I have taken Vio. Excellently done, if God did all. great pains to con it. Good beauties, let me Oli. 'Tis in grain, Sir; 'twill endure wind sustain no scorn ; I am very comptible,* even and weather. to the least sinister usage.

Vio. 'Tis beauty truly blent,t whose red and Oli. Whence came you, Sir ?

white Vio. I can say little more than I have studi- Nature's own sweet and cunning hand laid on: ed, and that question's out of my part. Good Lady, you are the cruel'st she alive, gentle one, give me modest assurance, if you If you will lead these graces to the grave, be the lady of the house, that I may proceed in And leave the world no copy. my speech.

Oli. 0, Sir, I will not be so hard-hearted; I Oli. Are you a comedian ?

will give out' divers schedules of my beauty : Vio. No, my profound heart: and yet, by It shall be inventoried; and every particle, and the very fangs of malice, I swear, I am not utensil, labelled to my will: as, item, two lips that I play. Are you the lady of the house? indifferent red; item, two grey eyes, with lids to Oli

. If I do not usurp myself, I am. them; item, one neck, one chin, and so forth. Vio. Most certain, if you are she, you do Were you sent hither to 'praise me? usurp yourself; for what is yours to bestow, is Vio. I see you what you are: you are too not yours to reserve. But this is from my com

proud; mission: I will on with my speech in your But, if you were the devil, you are fair. praise, and then show you the heart of my My lord and master loves you; 0, such love message.

Could be but recompens'd, though you were Oli. Come to what is important in't: I for- The nonpareil of beauty!

Tcrown'd give you the praise.

Oli. How does he love me? Vió. Alas, I took great pains to study it, and Vio. With adorations, with fertile tears, 'tis poetical.

With groans that thunder love, with sighs of Oli. It is the more likely to be feigned; I

fire. pray you, keep it in. I heard, you were saucy Oli. Your lord does know my mind, I cannot at my gaies; and allowed your approach, ra

love him : ther to wonder at you than to hear you. If Yet I suppose him virtuous, know him noble, you be not mad, be gone ; if you have reason, of great estate, of fresh and stainless youth; be brief: 'tis not that time of moon with me, In voices well divulg’d, free, learn'd, and vato make one in so skipping a dialogue.

liant, Mar. Will you hoist sail, Sir ? here lies your And, in dimension, and the shape of nature, way.

A gracious person : but yet I cannot love him; Vio. No, good swabber: I am to hull here He might have took his answer long ago. a little longer. Some mollification for your Vio. If I did love you in my master's tame, giant,t sweet lady.

With such a suffering, such a deadly life, Oli. Tell me your mind.

In your denial I would find no sense,

I would not understand it. Accountable. + It appears from several parts of this play that the ori- * Presents.

+ Blended, mixed together. ginal actress of Maria was very short.

# Well spoken of by the world.


Oli. Why, what would you?

80 excellent a touch of modesty, that you will Vio. Make me a willow cabin at your gate, not extort from me what I am willing to keep And call upon my soul within the house; in ; therefore it charges me in manners the raWrite loyal cantons* of contemned love, ther to expresse myself. You must know of And sing them loud even in the dead of night; me then, Antonio, my name is Sebastian, which Holla your name to the reverberatet hills, I called Rodorigo; my father was that SebasAnd make the babbling gossip of the air tian of Messaline, whom, I know, you have Cry out, Olivia ! 0, you should not rest heard of: he left behind him, myself, and a Between the elements of air and earth, sister, both born in an hour. If the heavens But you should pity me.

had been pleased, 'would we had so ended! but, Oli. You might do much : What is your you, Sir, altered' that; for, some hour before parentage?

you took me from the breach of the sea, was Vio. Above my fortunes, yet my state is well: my sister drowned. I am a gentleman.

Ant. Alas, the day! Oli. Get you to your lord ;

Seb. A lady, Sir, though it was said she much I cannot love him: let him send no more; resembled me, was yet of many accounted Unless, perchance, you come to me again, beautiful : but, though I could not, with such To tell me how he takes it. Fare you well: estimable wonder, overfar believe that, yet thus I thank you for your pains : spend this for me. far I will boldly publish ber, she bore a mind Vio. I am no fee'd post, lady; keep your that envy could not but call fair : she is purse;

drowned already, Sir, with salt water, though My master, not myself, lacks recompense. I seem to drown her remembrance again with Love maké his heart of flint, that you shall love;

Ant. Pardon me, Sir, your bad entertainAnd let your fervour, like my master's, be ment. Plac'd in contempt! 'Farewell, fair cruelty. Seb. O, good Antonio, forgive me your trou

[Exit. ble. Oli. What is your parentage?

Ant. If you will not murder me for my love, Above my fortunes, yet my state is well :

let me be your servant. I am a gentleman.- I'll be sworn thou art; Seb. If you will not undo what you have done, Thy tongue, thy face, thy limbs, actions, and that is, kill him whom you have recovered, despirit,

sire it not. Fare ye well at once : my bosom Do give thee five-fold blazon :—Not too fast:- is full of kindness; and I am yet so near the soft! soft!

manners of my mother, that upon the least ocUnless the master were the man.-How now? casion more, mine eyes will tell tales of me. I Even so quickly may one catch the plague? am bound to the count Orsino's court: fareMethinks, I feel this youth's perfections, well,

(Exit. With an invisible and subtle stealth,

Ant. The gentleness of all the gods go with To creep in at mine eyes. Well, let'it be.

thee! What, ho, Malvolio ! —

I have many enemies in Orsino's court,

Else would I very shortly see thee there :
Re-enter MALVOLIO.

But come what may, I do adore thee so,
Mal. Here, madam, at your service.

That danger shall seem sport, and I will go. Oli. Run after that same peevish messenger,

[Exit. The county's|| man: he left this ring behind him,

SCENE II.-A Street.
Would I, or not; tell him, I'll none of it.
Desire him not to flatter with his lord,

Enter Viola ; Malvolio following.
Nor hold him up with hopes; I am not for him:

Mal. Were not you even now with the countIf that the youth will come this way to-morrow,

ess Olivia ? I'll give him reasons for't. Hie thee, Malvolio.

Vio. Even now, Sir; on a moderate pace I Mal. Madam, I will.

(Exit. have since arrived but hither. Oli. I do I know not what: and fear to find

Mal. She returns this ring to you, Sir; you Mine eye too great a flatterer for my mind. Fate, show thy force: Ourselves we do not it away yourself. She adds moreover,

might have saved me my pains, to have taken owe;1

should put your lord into a desperate assurWhat is decreed, must be; and be this so!

ance she will none of him: And one thing

[Exit. more; that you be never so hardy to come ACT II.

again in his affairs, unless it be to report your

lord's taking of this. Receive it so. SCENE 1.-The Sea-coast.

Vio. She took the ring of me; I'll none of it. Enter ANTONIO and SEBASTIAN,

Mal. Come, Sir, you peevishly threw it to Ant. Will you stay no longer ? nor will you her; and her will is, it should be so returned: not, that I go with you?

if it be worth stooping for, there it lies in your

(Èxit. Seb. By your patience, no : my stars shine eye; if not, be it his that finds it. darkly over me; the malignancy of my fate

Vio. I left no ring with her : What means

this lady? might, perhaps, distemper yours; therefore I

[her! shall crave of you your leave, thai I may bear Fortune forbid, my outside have not charm'd my evils alone: It were a bad recompense for She made good view of me; indeed, so much, your love to lay any of them on you.

That, sure, methought, her eyes had lost her Ant. Let me yet know of you, whither you For she did speak in starts distractedly.

tongue, are bound. is mere extravagancy. But I perceive in you | None of my lord's ring! why, he sent her ponc. Seb. No, 'sooth, Sir; my determinate voyage She loves me, sure; the cunning of her passion

Invites me in this churlish messenger. * Cantos, verses. + Echoing.

I am the man ;-If it be so, (as 'tis,) Messenger.

Proclamation of gentility. Count. * Own, possess.


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that you

Poor lady, she were better love a dream. Sir And. Excellent good, i' faith!
Disguise, I see, thou art a wickedness,

Sir To, Good, good.
Wherein the pregnant enemy does much. Clo. What is love? 'tis not hereufter ;
How easy is it, for the proper-falset

Present mirth hath present laughter ;
In women's waxen hearts to set their forms !

What's to come, is still unsure : Alas, our frailty is the cause not we;

In delay there lies no plenty ; For, such as we are made of, such we be.

Then come kiss me sweet-und-twenty, How will this fadge ?t My master loves her

Youth's a stuff' will not endure. dearly; And I, poor monster, fond as much on him;

Sir And. A mellifluous voice, as I am truc And she, mistaken, seems to dote on me:

knight. What will become of this ! As I am man,

Sir To. A contageous breath. My state is desperate for my master's love;

Sir And. Very sweet and contageous, i' faith. As I am woman, now alas the day!

Sir To. To hear by the nose, it is dulcet in What thriftless sighs shall poor Olivia breathe ? contagion. But shall we make the welkin O time, thou must untangle this, not I;

dance * indeed ? Shall we rouge the night-owl It is too hard a knot for me to untie. (Erit.

in a catch, that will draw three souls out of

one weaver ? shall we do that? SCENE III.-A Room in OLIVIA's House. Sir And. An you love me, let's do't: I am Enter Sir Toby Belch, and Sir Andrew

dog at a catch. AGUE-CHEEK.

Clo, By’r lady, Sir, and some dogs will catch

well. Sir To. Approach, Sir Andrew: not to be Sir And. Most certain : let our catch be, Thou a-bed after midnight, is to be up betimes; and knave. diluculo surgere, thou know'st,

Clo. Hold thy peace, thou knave, knight? I Sir And. Nay, by my troth, I know not: but shall be constrain'd in't to call thee knave, I know, to be up late, is to be up late.

knight. Sir To. A false conclusion; I hate it as an Sir And. Tis not the first time I have conunfilled can: To be up after midnight, and to strain’d one to call me knave. Begin, fool ; it go to bed then, is early ; so that, to go to bed begins, Hold thy peace. after midnight, is to go to bed betimes. Do C'lo. I shall never begin, if I hold my peace. not our lives consist of the four elements ?

Sir And. Good, i' faith! Come, begin. Sir And. 'Faith, so they say; but, I think,

[They sing a catch. it rather consists of eating and drinking.

Enter MARIA. Sir To. Thou art a scholar; let us therefore eat and drink.-Marian, I say !

Mar. What a catterwauling do you keep

a stoop of wine !

here! If my lady have not called up her stewEnter Clown.

ard, Malvolio, and bid him turn you out of

doors, never trust me. Sir And. Here comes the fool, i' faith.

Sir To. My lady's a Cataian,t we are poliClo. How now, my hearts ? Did you never ticians ; Malvolio's a Peg-a-Ramsey, and see the picture of we three ?

Three merry men we be. Am not I consanguiSir To. Welcome, ass.

Now let's have a neous ? am I not of her blood ? Tilly-valley, catch. Sir And. By my troth, the fool has an excel- lady! There dwelt a man in Babylon, lady, lady?

(Singing. ent breast.|. I had rather than forty shillings Clo. Beshrew me, the knight's in admirable

had such" a leg; and so sweet a breath to fooling; sing, as the fool has. In sooth, thou wast in Sir And. Ay, he does well enough, if he be very gracious fooling last night, when thou disposed, and so do I too; he does it with a spokest of Pigrogromitus, of the Vapians pass- better

grace, but I do it more natural, ing the equinoctial of Queubus; 'twas very Sir To. O, the twelfth day of December, * good, i' faith. I sent thee sixpence for thy le

[Singing. man :( Hadst it?

Mar. For the love of God, peace. Clo. I did impeticos thy gratillity ;** for Mal. volio's nose is no whipstock : My lady has a

Enter MALVOLIO. white hand, and the Myrmidons are no bottle- Mal. My masters, are you mad? or what are ale houses.

you ? Have you no wit, manpers, nor honesty, Sir And. Excellent; Why, this is the best but to gabble like tinkers at this time of night? fooling, when all is done. Now, a song.

Do ye make an alehouse of my lady's house, Sir To. Come on; there is sixpence for you : that ye squeak out your coziers'|| catches withlet's have a song,

out any mitigation or remorse of voice? Is there Sir And. There's a testril of me too : if one no respect of place, persons, nor time, in you? knight give a

Sir To. We did keep time, Sir, in our catchClo. Would you have a love-song, or a song

Sneck up! of good life?

Mal. Sir Toby, I must be round with you. Sir To. A love-song, a love-song.

My lady bade me tell you, that, though she Sir And. Ay, ay; care not for good life. harbours you as her kinsman, she's nothing al

lied to your disorders. If you can separate SONG.

yourself and your misdemeanors, you are wel. Clo. O mistress mine, where are you roaming?

come to the house; if not, an it would please 0, stay and hear ; your true love's coming,

you to take leave of her, she is very willing to That can sing both high and low :

bid you farewell.
Trip no further, pretty sweeting ;

Sir To. Farewell, dear heart, since I must needs
Journeys end in lovers' meeting,
Every wise man's son doth know.

Mar. Nay, good Sir Toby.

* Drink till the sky turns round. + Romancer. Dexterous, ready fiend. Fair deceiver. Suit.

Name of an old song,
Loggerheads be.

Equivaleat to filly faly, shilly shally. in I did impetticoat thy gratuity.


be gone.

u Coblers.

1 Hang yourseli.

1 Mistress

Clo. His eyes do show his days are almost done. Sir And. And your horse now would make Mal. Is't even so ?

him an ass. Sir To. But I will never die.

Mar. Ass, I doubt not. Clo. Sir Toby, there you lie.

Sir And. 0, 'twill be admirable. Mal. This is much credit to you.

Mar. Sport royal, I warrant you: I know, Sir To. Shall I bid him go? [Singing. my physic will work with him. I will plant Clo. What an if you do?

you two, and let the fool make a third, where Sir To. Shall I bid him go, and spare not ? he shall find the letter; observe his construcClo. O no, no, no, no, you dare not.

tion of it. For this night, to bed, and dream Sir To. Out o'time é Sir, ye lie.-Art any on the event. Farewell.

[Exit. more than a steward ? Dost thou think, be- Sir To. Good night, Penthesilea. cause thou art virtuous, there shall be no more Sir And. Before me, she's a good wench. cakes and ale ?

Sir To. She's a beagle, true-bred, and one Çlo. Yes, by Saint Anne; and ginger shall that adores me; What o' that? be hot i'the mouth too.

Sir And. I was adored once too. Sir To. Thou’rt i'the right.-Go, Sir, rub Sir To. Let's to bed, knight.--Thou hadst your chain with crums :-A stoop of wine, need send for more money. Maria!

Sir And. If I cannot recover your niece, I am Mal. Mistress Mary, if you prized my lady's a foul way out. favour at any thing more than contempt, you Sir To. Send for money, knight; if thou hast would not give means for this uncivil rule;+ her not i'the end, call me Cut. she shall know of it, by this hand. (Exit. Sir And. If I do not, never trust me, take it Mar. Go shake your ears.

how you will. Sir And. 'Twere as good a deed as to drink Sir To. Come, come; I'll go burn some sack, when a man's a hungry, to challenge him to the 'tis too late to go to bed now: come, knight; field; and then to break promise with him, and come, knight.

(Exeunt, make a fool of him.

Sir. To. Do't, knight ; I'll write thee a chal- SCENE IV.-A Room in the Duke's Palace. lenge; or I'll deliver thy indignation to him by Enter DUKE, VIOLA, Curio, und others. word of mouth.

Duke. Give me some music:-Now, good Mar. Sweet Sir Toby, be patient for to-night; since the youth of the count's was to-day with Now, good Cesario, but that piece of song,

morrow, friends :my lady, she is much out of quiet, . For mon- That'old and antique song we heard last night; sieur Malvolio, let me alone with him: if I do Methought, it did relieve my passion much; not gull him into a nay-word, and make him More than light airs and recollected terms, a common recreation, do not think I have wit Of these most brisk and giddy-paced times:enough to lie straight in my bed : I know, I

Come, but one verse. can do it. Sir To. Possess us, ý possess us ; tell us some that should sing it.

Cur. He is not here, so please your lordship, thing of him.

Duke. Who was it?
Mar. Marry, Sir, sometimes he is a kind of

Cur. Festo, the jester, my lord; a fool, that Sir And. O, if I thought that, I'd beat him he is about the house.

the lady Olivia's father took much delight in : like a dog.

Duke. Seek him out, and play the tune the Sir To. What, for being a Puritan ? thy ex


(Exit Curio.—Music. quisite reason, dear knight?

Come hither, boy; If ever thou shalt love, Sir And. I have no exquisite reason for’t, but in the sweet pangs of it, remember me: I have reason good enough. Mar. The devil a Puritan that he is, or any Unstaid and skittish in all motions else,

For, such as I am, all true lovers are; thing constantly but a time pleaser; an affec. Save, in the constant image of the creature tioned l ass,

that cons state without book, and That'is belov’d.—How dost thou like this tune? utters it by great swarths : { the best persuaded of himself, so crammed, as he thinks, with ex. Where Love is thron'd.

Vio. It gives a very echo to the seat cellences, that it is his ground of faith, that

Duke. Thou dost speak masterly: all, that look on him, love him; and, on that My life upon't, young though thou art, thine

seye vice in him will my revenge find notable cause Hath stay'd upon some favourt that it loves ; to work.

Hath it not, boy ? Sir To. What wilt thou do?

Vio. A little, by your favour. Mar. I will drop in his way some obscure

Duke. What kind of woman is't ? epistles of love; wherein, by the colour of his

Vio. Of your complexion. beard, the shape of his leg, the manner of his

Duke. She is not worth thee then. What gait, the expressure of his eye, forehead, and

years, i'faith? complexion, he shall find himself most feeling

Vio. About your years, my lord. ly personated : I can write very like my lady

Duke. Too old, by heaven; Let still the your niece; on a forgotten matter we can hard

woman take ly make distinction of our hands.

An elder than herself; so wears she to him, Sir To. Excellent! I smell a device.

So sways she level in her husband's heart. Sir And. I have't in my nose too. Sir To. He shall think, by the letters that Our fancies are more giddy and unfirm,

For, boy, however we do praise ourselves, thou wilt drop, that they come from my niece, More longing, wavering, sooner lost and worn, and that she is in love with him.

Than women's are. Mar. My purpose is, indeed, a horse of that

Vio. I think it well, my lord. colour.

Duke. Then let thy love be younger than

Stewards anciently wore a chain. + Method of life. Or thy affection cannot hold the bent:
Bye-word. | Inform us. 11 Affected
The row of grass left by a mower.

+ Horse.


* Amazon.


For women are as roses; whose fair flower, | That suffer surfeit, cloyment, and revolt; Being once display'd, doth fall that very hour. But mine is all as hungry as the sea,

Vio. And so ihey are: alas, that they are so; And can digest as much : make no compare To die, even when they to perfection grow!

Between that love a woman can bear me,

And that I owe Olivia.
Re-enter Curio, and Clown.

Vio. Ay, but I know,-
Duke. O fellow, come, the song we had last

Duke. What dost thou know? night :

Vio. Too well what love women to men may Mark it, Cesario; it is old, and plain : The spinsters and the knitters in the sun, In faith, they are as true of heart as we. And the free maids, that weave their thread My father had a daughter lov'd a man, with bones,

As it might be, perhaps, were I a woman, Do use to chaunt it; it is silly sooth,

I should your lordship. And dallies with the innocence of love,

Duke. And what's her history? Like the old age.

Pio. A blank, my lord : She never told her Clo. Are you ready, Sir ?

love, Duke. Ay; pr’ythee, sing.

[Music. But let concealment, like a worm i'the bud, Song.

Feed on her damask cheek: she pin'd' in

thought; Cio. Come aw ty, come away, death,

And, with a green and yellow melancholy, And in sad cypress let me be luid;

She sat like Patience on a monument, Fly uway, fly awuy, breuth;

Smiling at grief. Was not this love, indeed ? I am slain by u fair cruel maid.

We men may say more, swear more: but, inMy shroud of white, stuck all with yew,


(prove O, prepare it ;

Our shows are more than will; for still we My part of death no one so true

Much in our vows, but little in our love.
Did share it.

Duke. But died thy sister of her love, my boy! Not a flower, not a flower sweet,

Vio. I am all the daughters of my father's On my black coffin let there be strown ;


[not :Not a friend, not a friend greet

And all the brothers too;—and yet f know
My poor corpse, where my bones shall be thrown: Sir, shall I to this lady?
A thousand
thousand sighs to sare,

Duke. Ay, that's the theme.
Lay me, 0, where

To her in haste; give her this jewel ; say, Sad true lorer ne'er find my grave,

My love can give no place, bide no denay.* To weep there.

[Exeunt. Duke. There's for thy pains. Clo. No pains, Sir; I take pleasure in sing

SCENE V.-Olivia's Garden. ing, Sir.

Enter Sir Toby Belch, Sir ANDREW AGUEDuke. I'll pay thy pleasure then.

CHEEK, and FABIAN. Clo. Truly, Sir, and pleasure will be paid, Sir To. Come thy ways, Signior Fabian. one time or another.

Fab. Nay, I'll come; if I lose a scruple of Duke. Give me now leave to leave thee. this sport, let me be boiled to death with me

Clo. Now, the melancholy god protect thee; lancholy. and the tailor make thy doublet of changeable Sir To. Would'st thou not be glad to have taffata, for thy mind is a very opal. 6—I would the niggardly rascally sheep-biter come by some have men of such constancy put to sea, that notable shame? their business might be every thing, and their Fab. I would exult, man: you know, he intent every where; for that's it, that always brought me out of favour with my lady, about makes a good voyage of nothing.–Farewell. a bear-baiting here.

[Exit Clown.

Sir To. To anger him, we'll have the bear Duke. Let all the rest give place.---- again; and we will sool him black and blue :

[Exeunt CURIO and Attendants. Shall we not, Sir Andrew ? Once more, Cesario,

Sir And. An we do not, it is pity of our lives. Get thee to yon’ same sovereign cruelty : Tell her, my love, more noble than the world,

Enter MARIA. Prizes not quantity of dirty lands;

Sir To. Here comes the little villain :- How The parts that fortune hath bestow'd upon her, now, my nettle of India ? Tell her, I hold as giddily as fortune;

Mar. Get ye all three into the box-tree: But 'tis that miracle, and queen of gems, Malvolio's coming down this walk;" he has That nature pranks|| her in, attracts my soul. been yonder i’the sun, practising behaviour to

Vio. But, if she cannot love you, Sir? his own shadow, this half hour: observe bim, Duke. I cannot be so answer'd.

for the love of mockery; for, I know, this letVio. 'Sooth, but you must.

ter will make a contemplative ideot of him. Say, that some lady, as, perhaps, there is, Close, in the name of jesting! (The men hide Hath for your love as great a pang of heart themselves.) Lie thou, there ; [throws down a As you have for Olivia : you cannot love her; letter.] for here comes the trout that must be You tell her so; Must she not then be answer’d? caught with tickling.

(Exit Maria. Duke. There is no woman's sides, Can bide the beating of so strong a passion

Enter MALVOLIO. As love doth give my heart: no woman's heart

Mal. 'Tis but fortune ; all is fortune. Maria So big, to hold so much; they lack retention.

once told me, she did affect me: and I have Alas, their love may be call'd appetite,- heard herself come thus near, that, should she No motion of the liver, but the palate, fancy,t it should be one of my complexion. Lace makers.

+ Simple truth. Besides, she uses me with a more exalted reTimes of simplicity. A precious stone of all colours. || Decks.

+ Love. E

* Denial.

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