Графични страници
PDF файл
ePub

Ant.

ACT II SCENE I.

SCENE the Street.

Enter Antonio and Sebaftian.

ILL you ftay no longer? Nor will you not that go with you?

WILL

Seb. By your Patience, no: My Stars fhine darkly over me; the Malignancy of my Fate, might perhaps diftemper yours; therefore I crave of you your leave, that I may bear my Evils alone. It were a bad Recompence for your Love, to lay any of them on you.

Ant. Let me yet know of you, whither you are bound. Seb. No footh, Sir, my determinate Voyage is meer extravagancy: But I perceive in you fo excellent a Touch of Modefty, that you will not extort from me what I am willing to keep in, therefore it charges me in Manners the rather to exprefs my felf: You must know of me then, Antonio, my Name is Sebaftian, which I call'd Rodorigo, my Father was that Sebaftian of Meffaline, whom I know you have heard of. He left behind him, my felf, and a Sifter, both born in one Hour; if the Heavens had been pleas'd, would we had fo ended: But you, Sir, alter'd that, for some Hours before you took me from the Breach of the Sea, was my Sifter drown'd.

Ant. Alas the Day!

Seb. A Lady, Sir, tho' it was faid fhe much refembled me, was yet of many accounted beautiful; but tho' I could not with fuch estimable Wonder over-far believe that, yet thus far I will boldly publish her, the bore a Mind that Envy could not but call fair: She is drown'd already, Sir, with falt Water, tho' I feem to drown her Remembrance again with more.

be

Ant. Pardon me, Sir, your bad Entertainment.
Seb. O good Antonio, forgive me your Trouble.
Ant. If you will not murrher me for my Love, let me
your Servant.

Bb3

Seb

Seb. If you will not undo what you have done, that is kill him whom you have recover'd, defire it not. Fare y well at once, my Bofom is full of Kindness, and I am ye fo near the Manners of my Mother, that upon the leaft occ fion more, mine Eyes will tell Tales of me: I am bound to the Duke Orfino's Court; farewel.

[Exi

Ant. The gentleness of all the Gods go with thee.

I have made Enemies in Orfino's Court,

Elfe would I very fhortly fee thee there:

But come what may, I do adore thee fo,
That Danger fhall feem Sport, and I will go.

[Exit.

[blocks in formation]

Enter Viola and Malvolio at feveral Doors.

Mal. Were not you e'en now with the Countess Olivia ? Vio. Even now, Sir; on a moderate pace, I have fince arriv'd but hither.

Mal. She returns this Ring to you, Sir; you might have faved me my Pains, to have taken it away your felf. She adds moreover, that you should put your Lord in a defperate affurance, fhe will none of him. And one thing more, that you be never fo hardy to come again in his Af fairs, unless it be to report your Lord's taking of this: Receive it fo.

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 fhould be fo return'd: If it be worth ftooping for, there it lyes 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 outfide have not charm'd her!
She made good view of me, indeed fo much,
That fure methought her Eyes had loft her Tongue,
For fhe did speak in ftarts diftractedly:
She loves me fure, the cunning of her Paffion
Invites me in this churlish Meffenger.

None of my Lord's Ring? Why, he fent her none.
I am the Man-If it be fo as 'tis,

Poor Lady, fhe were better love a Dream,
Disguise, I fee thou art a Wickedness,

Wherein

'herein the pregnant Enemy does much. ow eafie is it, for the proper falfe

I Womens waxen Hearts to set their Forms -
las, our Frailty is the cause, not we,

or fuch as we are, we are made, if such we be.
How will this fadge? My Mafter loves her dearly,
and I, poor Monster, fond as much on him;
And she, mistaken, feems to dote on me:
Vhat will become of this? As I am a Man,
Дy State is desperate for my Master's Love;
As I am a Woman, now alas the day,
What thriftless Sighs fhall poor Olivia breathe?
> Time, thou must untangle this, not I,
It is too hard a Knot for me t'unty.

SCENE

III. Olivia's House.

Enter Sir Toby and Sir Andrew.

[Exit.

Sir To. Approach Sir Andrew: Not to be a-bed after Midnight, is to be up betimes, and Diluculo furgere, thou know'ft.

Sir And. Nay, by my troth, I know not: But I know, to be up late, is to be up late.

Sir To. A falfe Conclufion: I hate it as an unfill'd Can; to be up after Midnight, and to go to Bed then, is early; fo that to go to Bed after Midnight, is to go to Bed betimes.. Does not our Lives confift of the four Elements?

Sir And. 'Faith fo they fay, but I think it rather confifts of Eating and Drinking.

Sir To. Th'art a Scholar, let us therefore eat and drink. Marian I fay, a Stoop of Wine.

Enter Clown.

Sir And. Here comes the Fool, i'faith.

Clo. How now my Hearts; did you never fee the PiЯure of we three?

Sir To. Welcome Afs, 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 fuch a Leg, and fo fweet a Breath to fing, as the Fool has. Infooth thou waft in very gracious fooling laft Night, when thou fpok'ft of Pigrogromitus, of the Vapians paffing the Equinoctial of B b Queubus

4

Quenbus; 'twas very good i'faith: I fent thee fix Pence for thy Lemon, hadft it?

Clo. I did impeticos thy gratillity; for Malvolio's No is no Whip-stock. My Lady has a white Hand, and the Mirmidons are no Bottle-Ale-houfes.

Sir And. Excellent: Why this is the beft fooling, whe all is done. Now a Song.

Sir To. Come on, there is fix Pence for you. Let's have a Song.

a

Sir And. There's a Teftril of me too; if one Knight give

Clo. Would you have a Love-fong, or a Song of good Life?

Sir To. A Love-fong, a Love-fong.

Sir And. Ay, ay, I care not for good Life.

Clown fings.

O Mistress mine, where are you roming?
Oftay and hear, your true Love's coming,
That can fing both high and low.
Trip no further, pretty Sweeting,
Journeys end in Lovers meeting,
Every wife Man's Son doth know.

Sir And. Excellent good, 'faith.
Sir To. Good, good,

Clo. What is Love, 'tis not hereafter,
Prefent Mirth hath prefent Laughter:
What's to come, is still unfure.

In delay there lyes no plenty,

Then come kiss me sweet and twenty :

Youth's a Stuff will not endure.

Sir And. A mellifluous Voice, as I am a true Knight. Sir To. A contagious Breath.

Sir And. Very fweet and contagious, i'faith.

Sir To. To hear by the Nofe, it is Dulcet in Contagion. But fhall we make the Welkin dance indeed? Shall we rouze the Night-Owl in a Catch, that will draw three Souls out of one Weaver? Shall we do that?

Sir And. And you love me, let's do't: I am a Dog at a Catch.

Clo.

Clo. Byr Lady, Sir, and fome Dogs will catch well. Sir And. Moft certain: Let our Catch be, Thou Knave. Clo. Hold thy peace, thou Knave, Knight. I fhall be conftrain'd in't, to call thee Knave, Knight.

Sir And. 'Tis not the firft time I have constrain'd one to call me Knave. Begin, Fool; it begins, Hold thy peace. Clo. I fhall never begin, if I hold my peace.

Sir And. Good 'ifaith: Come, begin. [They fing a Catch.

Enter Maria.

Mar. What a Catterwalling do you keep here? If my Lady have not call'd up her Steward, Malvolio, and bid him turn you out of Doors, never trust me.

Sir To. My Lady's a Catayan, we are Politicians, Malvolio's a Peg-a-Ramfey, and Three merry Men be we. Am not I Confanguinious? Am not I of her Blood! Tilly Valley, Lady! There dwelt a Man in Babylon, Lady, Lady. [Singing. Clo. Befhrew me, the Knight's in admirable Fooling.

Sir And. Ay, he does well enough if he be difpos'd, and fo do I too: he does it with a better Grace, but I do it more natural.

Sir To. O Twelfth Day of December.
Mar. For the love o' God, peace.
Enter Malvolio.

[Singing:

Mal. My Mafters, are you mad? Or what are you? Have you no Wit, Manners, nor Honefty, but to gabble like Tinkers at this time of Night? Do ye make an Ale-house of my Lady's House, that ye fqueak out your Coziers Catches without any mitigation or remorse of Voice? Is there no refpect of Place, Perfons, nor Time in you?

Sir To. We did keep time, Sir, in our Catches. Sneck up. Mal. Sir Toby, I must be round with you. My Lady bade me tell you, that the harbours you as her Kinfman, fhe's nothing ally'd to your Disorders. If you can separate your felf and your Mifdemeanors, you are welcome to the Houfe: If not, and it would please you to take leave of her, she is very willing to bid you farewel.

Sir To. Farewel, dear Heart, fince I muft needs be gone.
Mar. Nay, good Sir Toby.

Clo. His Eyes do fhew his Days are almost done.

Mal. Is't even fo?

Sir To. But I will never dye.

[ocr errors]
« ПредишнаНапред »