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say in

Mar. Make that good.

1 Mal. Yes; and shall do, till the pangs of death Clo. He shall see none to fear.

shake him: Infirmity, that decays the wise, doth ever Var. A good lenten answer: I can tell thee where make the better fool. that saying was born, of, I fear no colours.

Clo. God send you, sir, a speedy infirmity, for the Clo. Where, good mistress Mary?

better encreasing your folly! Sir Toby will be sworn, Asar. In the wars; and that may you be bold to that I am no fox; but lie will not pass his word for your foolery.



you are no fuol. Clo. Well, God give them wisdom, that have it; Oli. How say you to that, Malvolio ? and those that are fools, let them use their talents. Mal. I marvel your ladyship takes delight in such Mar. Yet


will be hanged, for being so long a barren rascal; I saw him put down the other day absent: or, to be turned away; is not that as good with an ordinary fool, that has no more brain than as a hanging to you?

a stone. Look you now, he's out of his guard alClo. Many a good hanging prevents a bad mar-ready; unless you laugh and minister occasion to riage; and, for turning away, let summer bear it out. him, he is gagged. I protest, I take these wise Mar. You are resolute then?

men, that crow so at these set kind of foo!s, no better Clo. Not so neither; but I am resolved on two than the fools' zanies. points.

Oli. O, you are sick of self-love, Malvolio, and Mar. That, if one break, the other will hold; or, taste with a distempered appetite. To be generous, if both break, your gaskins fall.

guiltless, and of free disposition, is to take those Clo. Apt, in good faith ; very apt! Well, go thy things for bird-bolts, that you deem cannon-bullets: way; if sir Toby would leave drinking, thou wert There is no slander in an allowed fool, though he do as witty a piece of Eve's flesh as any in Illyria. nothing but rail; nor no railing in a known discreet

Mar. Peace, you rogue, no more o' that ; here man, though he do nothing but reprove. coms my lady: make your excuse wisely, you were Clo. Now Mercury endue thee with leasing, for best

[Exit. thou speakest well of fools! Enter OLIVIA and MALVOLIO.

Re-enter Maria. Clo. Wit; and 't be thy will, put me into good fooling! Those wits, that think they have thee, do

Mar. Madam, there is at the gate a young genvery oft prove fools; and I, that am sure I lack thee, tleman, much desires to speak with you.

vi. From the count Orsino, is it? may pass for a wise man : For what says Quinapalus? Better a witty fool, than a foolish wit.

Mar. I know not, madam; 'tis a fair young man,

God bless thee, lady!

and well attended. Oli. Take the fool away.

Oli. Who of my people hold him in delay? Clo. Do

Mar. Sir Toby, madam, your kinsman. not hear, fellows? Take away the lady.

you Oli. Go to, you're a dry fool; l’u no more of thing but madman: Fye on him! [Exit Maria.]

Oli. Fetch him off, I pray you; he speaks noyou : besides, you grow dishonest. Clo. Two faults, madonna, that drink and good I am sick, or not at home ; what you will, to dis

Go you, Malvolio : if it be a suit from the count, counsel will amend: for give the dry fool drink, then is the fool not dry; bid the dishonest man mend miss it. (Erit Malvolio.] Now you see, sir, how himself; if he mend, he is no longer dishonest ; if your fooling grows old, and people dislike it. he cannot, let the botcher mend him: Any thing eldest son should be a fool: whose skull Jove cram

Clo. Thou hast spoke for us, madonna, as if thy that's mended, is but patched : virtue, that transgresses, is but patched with sin; and sin, that amends,

with brains, for here he comes, one of thy kin, has is but patched with virtue: If that this simple syllo

a most wcak pria mater. gism will serve, so; if it will not, What remedy ? As there is no true cuckold but calamity, so beauty's

Enter Sir Toby Belch. a flower:— the lady bade take away the fool; there- Oli. By mine honour, half drunk. - What is he fore, I say again, take her away.

at the gate, cousin ? Oli. Sir, I bade them take away you.

Sir To. A gentleman. Clo. Misprision in the highest degree ! - Lady, Oli. A gentleinan? What gentleman ? Cucullus non facit monachum; that's as much as to Sir To. 'Tis a gentlemen here A plague o'these say, I wear not motley in my brain. Good madon- | pickle-herrings ! How


sot? na, give me leave to prove you a fool.

Clo. Good Sir Toby, Oli. Can you do it?

Oli. Cousin, cousin, how have you come so early Clo. Dexteriously, good madonna.

by this lethargy? Oli. Make your proof.

Sir To. Lechery! I defy lechery: There's one Clo. I must catechize you for it, madonna; Good at the gate. my mouse of virtue, answer me.

Oli. Ay, marry ; what is he? Oli. Well, sir, for want of other idleness, I'll Sir To. Let him be the devil, an he will, I care bide your proof.

not : give me faith, say I. Well, it's all one. (Erit. Clo. Good madonna, why mourn'st thou .

Oli. What's a drunken man like, fool ? Oli. Good fool, for my brother's death.

Clo, Like a drown'd man, a fool, and a madman: Clo. I think, his soul is in hell, madonna.

one draught above heat makes him a fool; the sea Oli. I know his soul is in heaven, fool.

cond mads him; and a third drowns him. Clo. The more fool you, madonna, to mourn for Oli. Go thou and seek the coroner, and let hin. your brother's soul being in heaven.

sit o' my coz ; for he's in the third degree of drink, the fool, gentlemen.

he's drown'd: go, look after him. Oli. What think you of this fool, Malvolio ? doth Clo. He is but mad yet, madonna ; and the fool ha not mend ?

shall look to the madman.

(Erit Clown

Take away


you ?


gone ; if you have reason, be brief: 'tis not that Re-euer VALVOLJO.

time of moon with me, to make one in so skipping ūkl. Malam, yond young fellow swears he wili a dialogue. speak with you. I told him you were sick ; he Mar. Will you hoist sail, sir? here lies your way. takes on him to understand so much, and therefore Vio. No, good swabber ; I am to hull here a comes to speak with you ; I told him you were little longer. Some mollification for your giant, asleep; he seems to have a fore-knowledge of that sweet lady. too, and therefore comes to speak with you. What Oli. Tell me your mind. is to be said to him, lady? he's fortified against any

Vio. I am a messenger. denial.

Oli. Sure, you have some hideous matter to deOli. Tell him, he shall not speak with me. liver, when the courtesy of it is so fearful. Speak

Mal. He has been told so; and he says, he'll your office. stand at your door like a sheriff's post, and be the Vio. It alone concerns your ear. I bring no supporter of a bench, but he'll speak with you. overture of war, no taxation of homage ; I hold the Oli. What kind of man is he?

olive in my hand : my words are as full of peace as Mal. Why, of mankind. Oli. What manner of man?

Oli. Yet you began rudely. What are you? what Mal. Of very ill manner; he'll speak with you,

would will you, or no.

Vio. The rudeness that hath appeared in me, Oli. Of what personage, and years, is he? have I learn'd from my entertainment. What I

Mal. Not yet old enough for a man, nor young am, and what I would, are as secret as maidenenough for a boy; as a squash is before 'tis a peas- head : to your ears, divinity ; to any other's, procod, or a codling when 'tis almost an apple : 'tis fanation. with him e'en standing water, between boy and man. Oli. Give us the place alone : we will hear this He is very well-favoured, and he speaks very shrew- divinity. [Erit Mania.] Now, sir, what is your ishly; one would think, his mother's milk were

text? scarce out of him,

Vio. Most sweet lady, Oli. Let him approach : Call in my gent.c

Oli. A comfortable doctrine, and much may be

said of it. Where lies your text ? Mal. Gentlewoman, my lady calls. [Erit. Vio. In Orsino's bosom.

Oli. In his bosom? In what chapter of his bosom? Re-enter Maria.

Vio. To answer by the method, in the first of his Oli. Give me my veil: come, throw it o'er my face; heart. We'll once more hear Orsino's embassy.

Oli. O, I have read it; it is heresy. Have you

no more to say ? Enter VIOLA.

Vio. Good madam, let me see your face. Vio. The honourable lady of the house, which Oli. Have you any commission from your lord to is she?

negociate with my face ? you are now out of your Oli. Speak to me, I shall answer for her : Your text: but we will draw the curtain, and shew you will?

the picture. Look you, sir, such a one as I was Vio. Most radiant, exquisite, and unmatchable this present: Is’i not well done ? (Unveiling. beauty, - I pray you, tell me, if this be the lady of. Vio. Excellently done, if God did all. the house, for I never saw her: I would be loath to Oli. 'T'is in grain, sir ; 'twill endure wind and cast away my speech; for, besides that it is excel- weather. lently well penn'd, I have taken great pains to con Vio. 'Tis beauty truly blent, whose red and white it. Good beauties, let me sustain no scorn; I am Nature's own sweet and cunning hand laid on : very comptible, even to the least sinister usage. Lady, you are the cruel’st she alive, Oli. Whence came you, sir?

If you will lead these graces to the grave, Vio. I can say little more than I have studied, And leave the world no copy. and that question's out of my part. Good gentle

Oli. O, sir, I will not be so hard-hearted ; I will one, give me modest assurance, if you be the lady give out divers schedules of my beauty : It shall be of the house, that I may proceed in my speech. inventoried ; and every particle, and utensil, labelOli. Are you a comedian ?

led to my will : as, item, two lips indifferent red ; Vio. No, my profound heart : and yet, by the item, two grey eyes, with lids to them ; item, one very fangs of malice I swear I am not that I play. neck, one chin, and so forth. Were you sent hither Are you the lady of the house?

to 'praise me? Oli. If I do not usurp myself, I

Vio. I see you what you are: you are too proud; Vio. Most certain, if you are she, you do usurp But, if you were the devil, you are fair. yourself; for what is yours to bestow, is not yours My lord and master loves you; 0, such love io reserve. But this is from my commission : I will could be but recompens’d, though you were crown'd! on with my speech in your praise, and then shew The nonpareil of beauty! you the heart of my message.


How does he love ine? Oli. Come to what is important in't: I forgive Vio. With adorations, with fertile tears, you the praise.

With groans that thunder love, with sighs of fire. Vio. Alas, I took great pains to study it, and 'tis Oli. Your lord does know my mind, I cannot poi tical.

love him : Oli. It is the more like to be feigned ; I pray Yet I suppose him virtuous, know him noble, you, keep it in. I heard you were saucy at my Of great estate, of fresh and stainless youth ; gatis; and allowed your approach, rather to wonder In voices well divulg'd, free, learn'd, and valiant, at you than to hear you. If you be not mad, be And, in dimension, and the shape of nature,

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A gracious person : but yet I cannot love him; And let your fervour, like my master's, be
He might have took his answer long ago.

Plac'd in contempt! Farewell, fair cruelty. Erit.
Vio. If I did love you in my master's flame, Oli. What is your parentage?
With such a suffering, such a deally life,

Above my fortunes, yet my state is well : In your denial I would find no sense,

I am a gentleman.

I'll be sworn thou art ; I would not understand it.

Thy tongue, thy face, thy limbs, actions, and spirit, Oli.

Why, what would you? | Do give thee five-fold blazon : Not too fast : Vio. Make me a willow cabin at your gate,

soft! soft! And call upon my soul within the house;

Unless the master were the man. - · Ilow now? Write loyal cantons of contemned love,

Even so quickly may one catch the plague? And sing them loud even in the dead of night ; Methinks, I feel this youth's perfections, Holla your name to the reverberate hills,

With an invisible and subtle stealth, And make the babbling gossip of the air

To creep in at mine eyes. Well, let it be. – Cry out, Olivia! 0, you should not rest

What, ho, Malvolio! -
Between the elements of air and earth,

Re-enter MALVOLIO.
But you should pity me.
Oli. You might do much: What is your parent-


Here, madam, at your service. age?

Oli. Run after that same peevish messenger, Vio. Above my fortunes, yet my state is well : The county's man: he left this ring behind him, I am a gentleman.

Would I, or not; tell him, I'll none of it,
Get you to your lord;

Desire him not to flatter with his lord,
I cannot love him : let him send no more ;

Nor hold him up with hopes; I am not for him : Unless, perchance, you come to me again,

If that the youth will come this way to-morrow, To tell me how he takes it. Fare you well : I'll give him reasons for't. Hie thee, Malvolio. I thank you for your pains: spend this for me. Mal. Madam, I will.

[Erit. Vio. I am fee'd post, lady; keep your Oli. I do I know not what: and fear to find purse;

Mine eye too great a flatterer for my mind. My master, not myself, lacks recompense.

Fate, shew thy force : Ourselves we do not owe; Love make his heart of flint, that you shall love ; What is decrecd, must be; and be this so! (Erit




them on you.

water, though I seem to drown her remembrance SCENE I. - The Sea-coast.

again with more. Enter ANTONIO and SEBASTIAN.

Ant. Pardon me, sir, your bad entertainment.

Scb. O, good Antonio, forgive me your trouble. Ant. Will you stay no longer? nor will you not, Ant. If you will not murder me for my love, let that I

with you?

me be your servant. Seb. By your patience, no : my stars shine darkly Seb. If you will not undo what you have done, over me; the malignancy of my fate might, per- that is, kill him whom you have recovered, desire it haps, distemper yours ; therefore I shall crave of you Fare ye well at once : my bosom is full of your leave, that I may bear my evils alone : It kindness; and I am yet so near the manners of my were a bad recompense for your love, to lay any of mother, that upon the least occasion more, mine

cyes will tell tales of me. I am bound to the count Ant. Let me yet know of you, whither you are Orsino's court : farewell.

[Erit. bound.

Ant. The gentleness of all the gods go with thee! Seb. No, 'sooth, sir; my determinate voyage is | I have many enemies in Orsino's court, mere extravagancy. But I perceive in you so ex- Else would I very shortly see thee there : cellent a touch of modesty, that you will not extort But, come what may, I do adore thee so, from me what I am willing to keep in ; therefore it That danger shall seem sport, and I will go. (Erit. charges me in manners the rather to express myself. You must know of me then, Antonio, my

SCENE II. A Street. name is Sebastian, which I called Rodorigo; my father was that Sebastian of Messaline, whom I

Enter Viola; Malvolio following. know, you have heard of: he left behind him, my- Mal. Were not you even now with the countess self, and a sister, both born in an hour. If the Olivia ? heavens had been pleased, 'would we had so ended ! Vio. Even now, sir; on a moderate pace I have but, you, sir, altered that ; for, some hour before since arrived but hither. you took me from the breach of the sea, was my Mal. She returns this ring to you, sir; you sister drowned.

might have saved me my pains, to have taken it Ant. Alas, the day!

away yourself. She adds moreover, that Seb. A lady, sir, though it was said she much re- put your lord into a desperate assurance she will sembled me, was yet of many accounted beautiful : none of him: And one thing more ; that you be vut, though I could not, with such estimable won- never so hardy to come again in his affairs, unless der, overfar believe that, yet thus far I will boldly it be to report your lord's taking of this. Receive publi ih her, she bore a mind that envy could not but call fair : she is drowned already, sir, with salt Vio. She took the ring of me: I'll none of it.

you should Jal. Come, sir, you peevishly threw it to her ; Sir And. There's a testril of me too: if one and her will is, it should be so returned: if it be knight give a worth stooping for, there it lies in your eye; if not, Clo. Would you have a love-song, or a song or be it his that finds it.

it so.


good life?
Pio. I left no ring with her : What means this Sir To. A love-song, a love song.

Sir And. Ay, ay ; I care not for good life.
Fortune forbid, my outside have not charm'd her!
She made good view of me; indeed, so much,

That, sure, methought, her eyes had lost her tongue,

Clo. O mistress mine, where are you roaming ? For she did speak in starts distractedly.

0, stay and hear; your true love's coming, She loves me, sure; the cunning of her passion

That can sing both high and low : Invites me in this churlish messenger.

Trip no further pretty sweeting ; None of my lord's ring! why, he sent her none.

Journeys end in lovers' meeting, I am the man;— If it be so, (as 'tis,)

Every wise man's son doth know. 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.
How easy is it, for the proper-false

Clo. What is love? 'tis not hereafler ;
In women's waxen hearts to set their forms !

Present mirth hath present laughter ; Alas, our frailty is the cause, not we;

What's to come, is still unsure : For, such as we are made of, such we be.

In delay there lies no plenty ; How will this fadge? My master loves her dearly;

Then come kiss me, sweet-and-twenty,
And I, poor monster, fond as much on him;

Youth's a stuff will not endure.
And she, mistaken, seems to dote on me:
What will become of this! As I am man,

Sir And. A mellifluous voice, as I am true My state is desperate for my master's love;

knight. As I am woman, now alas the day!

Sir To. A contagious breath. What thriftless sighs shall poor Olivia breathe ?

Sir And. Very sweet and contagious, i'faith. O time, thou must entangle this, not I;

Sir To. To hear by the nose, it is dulcet in conIt is too hard a knot for me to untie. (Eril.

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

do that? Enter Sir Toby Belch and Sir Andrew AGUE

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 To. Approach, sir Andrew : not to be a-bed

Sir And. Most certain : let our catch be, Thou after midnight, is to be up betimes; and diluculo

kenave. Eurgere, thou know'st, Sir And. Nay, by my troth, I know not : but I be constrain'd in't to call thee knave, knight.

Clo. Hold thy peace, thou knave, knight? I shall know, to be up late, is to be up late.

Sir And. 'Tis not the first time I have constrain'd Sir To. A false conclusion ; I hate it as an un

one to call me knave. Begin, fool ; it begins, Hold filled can : To be up after midnight, and to go to

thy peace. bed then is early: so that, to go to bed after mid

Clo. I shall never begin, if I hold my peace. night, is to go to bed betimes. Do not our lives

Sir And. Good, i'faith! Come, begin. consist of the four elements ?

[ They sing a catch. Sir And. 'Faith, so they say; but, I think, it rather consists of eating and drinking.

Enter MARIA. Sir To. Thou art a scholar; let us therefore eat Mar. What a catterwauling do you keep here! and drink. - Marian, I say ! a stoop of wine ! If my lady have not called up her steward, MalEnter Clown.

volio, 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, we are politicians ; Clo. How now, my hearts? Did you never see Malvolio's a Peg-a-Ramsay, and Three merry men the picture of we three ?

be we. Am not I consanguineous ? am I not of her Sir To. Welcome ass. Now let's have a catch. blood ? Tilly-valley, lady! There dwelt a man in Sir And. By my troth, the fool has an excellent | Babylon, lady, lady!

(Singing breast. I had rather than forty shillings I had such Clo. Beshrew me, the knight's in admirable foola leg; and so sweet a breath to sing, as the fool has. ing. In sooth, thou wast in very gracious fooling last Sir And. Ay, he does well enough, if he be disnight, when thou spokest of Pigrogromitus, of the posed, and so do I too; he does it with a better Vapians passing the equinoctial of Queubus; 'twas grace, but I do it more natural. very good, i'faith. I sent thee sixpence for thy le- Sir To. 0, the twelfth day of December, man: Hadst it?

Singing. Clo. I did impeticos thy gratillity ; for Malvolio's Mar. For the love o'God, peace. nose is no whipstock : My lady has a white hand,

Enter MALVOLIO. and the Myrmidons are no bottle-ale houses.

Sir And. Excellent! Why, this is the best fool- Mal. My masters, are you mad? or what are ing, when all is done. Now, a song.

you ? Have you no wit, manners, nor honesty, but Sir To. C'ome on ; there is sixpence for you : let's

to gabble like tinkers at this time of night? Do ye make an alehouse of my lady's house, that ye squeak


have a song

be gone.

an ass.

way ont.

out your coziers' catches without any mitigation or of love; wherein, by the colour of his beard, the remorse of voice? Is there no respect of place, shape of his leg, the manner of his gait, the expersons, nor time, in you?

pressure of his eye, forehead, and complexwn, he Sir To. We did keep time, si, in our catches. shall find himself most eelingly personated : I can Sneck up!

write very like my ludy, your niece; on a forgotten Mal. Sir Toby, I must be round with you. My matter we can hardly make distinction of our hands. laily bade me tell you, that, though she harbours Sir To. Excellent! I smell a device. you as her kinsman, she's nothing allied to your dis- Sir And. I have't in my pose too. orders. If you can separate yourself and your mis- Sir To. He shal think, by the le:ters that thou demeanors, you are welcome to the house; if not, wilt drop, that they come from my niece, and that an it would please you to take leave of her, she is she is in love with him. very willing to bid you farewell.

Mar. My purpo:e is, indeed, a horse of that Sir To. Farewell, dear heart, since I must needs colour.

Sir And. And your horse aow would make him Mar. Nay, good sir Toby. Clo. His

eyes do shew his days are almost done. Mar. Ass, I doubt not. Mal. Is't even so ?

Sir And. O, 'twill be adınirable. Sir To. But I uill never die.

Mar. Sport royal, I warrant you: I know my Clo. Sir Toby, there you lie.

physick will work with him. I will plant you two, Mal. This is much credit to you.

and let the fool make a third, where he shall find the Sir To. Shall I bid him go ?


letter ; observe liis construction of it. For this night, Clo. What an if you do?

to bed, and dream on the event. Farewell. [Exit. Sir To. Shall I bul him


Sir To. Good night, Pen hesilea.

not ? Clo. O no, no, no, no, you dare not.

Sir And. Before me, she's a good wewch. Sir To. Out o'time? sir, ye lie. - Art any more

Sir To. She's a beagle, true bred, and one that than a steward? Dost thou think, because thou art

adores me; What o'that? virtuous, there shall be no more cakes and ale?

Sir And. I was adored once too. Clo. Yes, by Saint Anne; and ginger shall be

Sir To. Let's to bed, knight.—Thou hadst need hot i'the mouth too.

send for more money. Sir To. Thou’rt i’the right. Go, sir, rub

Sir And. If I caiinot recover your niece, I am a

your chain with crums :

foul - A stoop of wine, Maria! Mal. Mistress Mary, if you priz'd my lady's fa

Sir To. Send fir money, knight; is : hon hast her

not i' the end, call me Cut. vour at any thing more than contempt, you would not give means for this uncivil rule; she shall know

Sr And. If I do not, never trust me, take it of it, by this hand.


how you will. Mar. Go shake your ears.

Sir To. Come, come; l'll go burn some sack, 'tis

too late to go to bed now: cume, kuight ; come Sir And. 'Twere as good a deed as to drink irhen


[Exeunt. a man's a hungry, to challenge him to the field ; and then to break promise with him, and make a fool of

SCENE IV. - A Room in the Duke's Palace. him.

Sir To. Do't knight; I'll write thee a challenge; Enter Duke, V10LA, Curio, and others. or I'll deliver thy indignation to him by word of

Duke. Give me some musick:

Now, good mouth.

morrow, friends : Mar. Sweet sir Toby, be patient for to-night; Now, good Cesario, but that piece of song, since the youth of the count's was to-day with my That old and antiqne song we heard last n ght; lady, she is much out of quiet. For monsieur Mal- Methought, it did relieve my passion much; volio, let me alone with him: if I do not gull him More than light airs and recollected terins, into a nayword, and make him a common recreation, Of these most brisk and giddy-paced tiines : do not think I have wit enough to lie straight in my Come, but one ver:e. bed: I know, I can do it.

Cur. He is not here, so please your lordship, Sir To. Possess us, possess us; tell us something that should sing it. of him.

Duhe. Who was it? Mar. Marry, sir, sometimes he is a kind of Pu- Cur. Feste, the jester, my lord; a fool, that the ritan.

lady Olivia's father took much delight in: he is Sir And. O, if I thought that, I'd beat him like about the house. a dog.

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

[Erit Curio.-- Miusick. site reason, dear knight?

Come hither, boy; If ever thou shalt love, Sir And. I have no exquisite reason for’t, but I In the sweet pangs of it, remember me : have reason good enough.

For, such as I am, all true lovers are ; Mar. The devil a Puritan that he is, or any Unstaid and skittish in all rotions else, thing constantly but a time pleaser ; an affection'd Save, in the coustant image of the creature ass, that cons state without book, and utters it by That is belov'd. - How dost thou like this tune? great swarths: the best persuaded of himself, so Fio. It gives a very echo to the seat crammed, as he thinks, with excellencies, that it is Where Love is throni. his ground of faith, that all, that look on hinn, love Duke. Thou dost peak masterly: him ; and on that vice in him will my revenge find My life upon't, young though thou art, thine ejo notable cause to work.

Hath stay'd upon some favour that it loves; Sir To. What wilt thou do?

Hath it not, boy? Mar. I will drop in his way some obscure epistles

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