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A C T I.


Enter the Duke, Curio, and Lords.

F Musick be the food of Love, play on;
Give me excess of it; that, surfeiting,
The appetite may ficken, and so die.
That Strain again; it had a dying Fall:

O, it came o'er my ear, like the sweet
That breathes apon a bank of violets, [south,
Stealing, and giving odour. Enough! no more,
'Tis not fo sweet now, as it was before.
O fpirit of Love, how quick and fresh art thou !
That, notwithstanding thy capacity
Receiveth as the fea, nought enters there,
Of what validity and pitch foe'er,
But falls into abatement and low price,
Even in a minute ; (1) so full of shapes in fancy,
That it alone is high fantastical.

Cur, (1)

so full of Shapes is Fancy, That it alone is high fantastical.] Shakespeare has made his Polonius (a Character, which he design d should be receiv'd with Laughter) fay;

• for

Gur. Will you go hunt, my Lord ?
Duke. What, Curio?
Cur. The hart.

Duke. Why, so I do, the noblest that I have:
O, when my eyes did see Olivia first,
Methought, she purg'd the air of pestilence;
That instant was I turn'd into a hart,
And my desires, like fell and cruel hounds,
E'er fince pursue me. How now, what news from her?

Enter Valentine. Val. So please my Lord, I might not be admitted, But from her hand-maid do return this answer: The element it self, 'till seven years hence, Shall not behold her face at ample view ; But, like a Cloystress, 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 fresh And lasting in her fad remembrance,

Duke. O, She, that hath a heart of that fine frame, To pay this debt of love but to a Brother, How will fhe love, when the rich golden shaft Hath kill'd the flock of all affections else That live in her ? when liver, brain, and heart, These sov'raign Thrones, are all supply'd, and fillid,

for to define true Madness, What is't, but to be Nothing else but mad, But there is no Parity of Reason why his Duke here, who is altogether ferious, and moralizing on the Qualities of Love, should tell us, that Fancy is alone the most fantastical Thing imaginable. I am persuaded, the Alteration of is into in has given us the Poet's genuine Meaning; that Love is most fantastical, in being so variable in its Fancies. And Shakespeare every.where supposes this to be the distinguishing Characteristic of this passion. In his As You like it, where What it is to be in Love is definid, amongst other Marks we have This ;

It is to be alt made of Fantasie.
And in the fame Play, Rosalind, speaking of her Lover, fays ;

If I could meet that Fancy-monger, I would give him fome good Counsel, for he seems to have the Quotidian of Love upon him. And a hundred other Passages might be quoted, did the Matter require

Mr. Warburton.


any Proof.

Her sweet perfections, with one self-fame King !
Away before me to sweet beds of flowers;
Love-thoughts lye rich, when canopy'd with bowers.

[Exeunt. SCENE, the Street.


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Enter Viola, a Captain and Sailors.
Vio HAT 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 ?
Cap. It is perchance, that you your self were fav'd.
Vio. O my poor Brother ! so, perchance, may he be.
Cap. True, Madam : and to comfort you with

Assure your self, after our Ship did splity
When you, and that poor number sav'd with you,
Hung on our driving Boat: I saw your Brother,
Most provident in peril, bind himself
(Courage and Hope both teaching him the practice)
To a strong malt, that liv'd upon the sea ;
Where, like Arion on the Dolphin's back,
I saw him hold acquaintance with the waves,
So long as I could fee.

Vio. For saying so, there's gold.
Mine own escape unfoldeth to my hopen
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?
Gap. A noble Duke in nature, as in name.
Vio. What is his name?
Cap. Orfino.

Vio. Orsino! I have heard my Father name him:
He was a Batchelor then.

Cap. And so is now, or was so
For but a month ago I went from hence,


very late;

And then 'twas fresh in murmur (as you know,
What Great ones do, the less will pratule of)
That he did seek the love of fair Olivia.

Vio. What's the

Cap. A virtuous Maid, the Daughter of a Count,
Thai dy'd some twelve months fince, then leaving her
In the protection of his Son, her Brother,
Who shortly also dy'd; for whose dear love,
They say, the hath abjur'd the fight
And company of men.

Vio. O, that I sery'd that Lady,
And might not be deliver'd to the world,
'Till I had made mine own occafion 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 tho' that Nature with a beauteous wall
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 pr’ythee, and I'll pay thee bounteoudy,
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,

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 see. Vio. I thank thee; lead me on.



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you; I

Enter Sir Toby, and Maria.
Sir To.

HAT a plague means my Neice, 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 4-nights ; your Neice, my Lady, takes great exceptions to your ill hours.

Sir To. Why, let her except, before excepted.

Mar. Ay, but you must confine your self within the modest limits of order.

Sir To. Confine? I'll confine my self no finer chan I am; these cioaths 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
heard my Lady talk of it yesterday, and of a foolish
Knight that you brought in one night here, to be her

Sir To. Who, Sir Andrew Ague-cheek ?
Mar. Ay, he.
Sir To. He's as tall a man as any's in Illyria.
Mar. What's that to th' purpose ?
Sir To. Why, he has three thousand ducats a year.

Mar. Ay, but he'll have but a year in all these ducats: he's a very fool, and a prodigal.

Sir To. Fie, that you'll say lo! he plays o'th'viol-degambo, and speaks three or four languages word for word without book, and hath all the good gifts of Na

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 guft 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?


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