Enter Sir Toby, and Sir Andrew.
Sir And. Save you, gentleman. (12)
Vio. And you, Sir.
Sir To. Dieu vous guarde, Monfieur.
Vio. Et vous aussi ; vostre ferviteur.

Sir Tob. I hope, Sir, you are; and I am yours. Will you encounter the House? my Neice is desirous you should

enter, if your tradę be to her. Vio. I am bound to your Neice, Sir; I mean, the is the list of my voyage.

Sir Tob. Taste your legs, Sir, put them to motion.

Vio. My legs do better understand me, Sir, than I understand what you mean by bidding me tafte my legs. Sir Tob. I mean, to go, Şir, to enter.

Vio. I will answer you with gate and entrance but we are prevented.

Enter Olivia and Maria. Most excellent accomplish'd tady, the heav'ns rain odours on you!

Sir And. That youth's a rare Courtier! rain odours? well.

Vio. My matter hath no voice, lady, but do your own most pregnant and vouchsafed ear.

Sir And. Odours, pregnant, and vouchsafed: - I'll get 'em all three ready.

Oli. Let the garden-door be fhut, and leave me to my hearing [Exeunt Sir Toby, Sir Andrew, and Maria. Give me your hand, Sir.

(12) Sir Tob. Save you, Gentleman.

Vio. And you, Sir.
Sir And. Dieu vous guarde, Monfieur.
Vio. Et vous aussi ; votre Serviteur.

Sir And. I hope, Sir, ryou are; and I am yours.] I have ventur'd to make the two Knights change Speeches in this Dialogue with Viola ; and, I think, not without good Reason.

It were a preposterous Forgetfulness in the Poet, and out of all Probability, to make Şir Andrew not only speak French, but understand what is said to him in it, who in the Firt Act did not know the Engliha of Pourquoy. K k 2

Vio

Vio. My duty, Madam, and most humble service.
Oli. What is your name?
Vio. Cefario is your servant's name, fair Princess.

Oli. My servant, Sir? 'Twas never merry world,
Since lowly feigning was call'd compliment:
Y’are servant to the Duke Orsino, youth.

Vio. And he is yours, and his must needs be yours: Your seryant's servant is your servant, Madam.

Oli. For him, I think not on him: for his thoughts, Would they were Blanks, rather than fill'd with me.

Vio. Madam, I come to whet your gentle thoughts On his behalf.

Oli. O, by your leave, I pray you ; — I bade you never speak again of him. But would you undertake another Suit, I'd rather hear you to , sollicit That, Than musick from the Spheres.

Vio. Dear lady,

Oli. Give me leave, I beseech you: I did send,
After the last enchantment, you did hear,
A ring in chase of you. So did I abuse
My self, my servant, and, I fear me, you;
Under your hard construction must I sit,
'To force That on you in a shameful cunning,
Which you knew none of yours.

What might you
think?
Have you not set mine Honour at the stake,
And baited it with all th' unmuzzled thoughts
That 'tyrannous heart can think? to one of

your receiving Enough is thewn ; a Cyprus, not a bosom, Hides my poor heart. So let us hear you speak.

Vio. I pity you.
Oli. That's a degree to Love.

Vio. No not a grice: for 'tis a vulgar proof,
That very oft we pity enemics.

Oli. Why then, methinksy 'tis time to smile again; O world, how apt the poor are to be proud! It one should be a prey, how much the better To fall before the lion, than the wolf! [Clock Atrikes.

The

me?

The clock upbraids me with the waste of time.
Be not afraid, good youth, I will not have you ;
And yet when wit and youth are come to harveft,
Your wife is like to reap a proper man:
There lies your way, due weft.

Vio. Then, westward hoe :
Grace and good disposition attend your ladyship!
You'll nothing, Madam, to my lord by me?

Oli. Stay; pr’ythec tell me, what thou think'it of

Vio. That you do think, you are not what you are. : Oli. If I think so, I think the same of you.

Vio. Then think you right: I am not what I am.
Oli

. I would you were, as I would have you be!
Vio. Would it be better, Madam, than I am?
I wish it might, for now I am your fool.

Oli. O, what a deal of scorn looks beautiful
In the contempt and anger of his lip!
A murd'rous guilt shews not it self more soon,
Than love that would seem hid: love's night is noon.
Cesario, by the roses of the Spring,
By maid-hood, honour, truth, and every thing,
I love thcę so, that, maugre all thy pride,
Nor wit, nor reason, can my passion hide.
Do not extort thy reasons from this clause,
For that I woo, thou therefore haft no cause:
But rather reason thus with reason fetter;
Love fought is good; but given, unsought, is better.

Vio. By innocence I swear, and by my youth,
I have one heart, one bosom, and one truth,
And that no woman has; nor never none
Shall mistress be of it, save I alone.
And so adieu, good Madam; never more
Will I my master's tears to you deplore.

Oli. Yet come again; for thou, perhaps, may'st move Thaç heart, which now abhors to like his love.

[Exeunt.

SCENE changes to an Apartment in

OLIVIA's House.

ward you.

Enter Sir Toby, Sir Andrew, and Fabian. Sir And. Nr 101, Thy reason, dear venom, give

Ofaithnot a . thy reafoni Fab. You must needs yield your reason, Sir Andrew.

Sir. And. Marry, I saw your Neice do more favours to the Duke's serving-man, than ever she bestow'd on me... I saw't, i'th' orchard.

Sir Td. Did she see thee the while, old boy, tell me that?

Sir And. As plain as I see you now. Fab. This was a great argument of love in her toSir Ard. 'Slight! will you make an als o me? Fab. I will prove it legitimate, Sir, upon the oaths of judgment and reason

Šir To. And they have been Grand Jury-men Gince before Noab was a sailor.

Fab. She did shew favour to the youth in your sight, only, to exalperate you, to awake your dor. mouse valour, to put fire in your heart, and brimstone in your liver. You should then have accosted her, and with some excellent jetts, fire-new from the mint, you should have bang'd the youth into dumbness. This was look'd for at your hand, and this was baulkt. The double Gilt of this opportunity you let time wash off, and you are now fajld into the North of my lady's opinion ; where you will hang like an isicle on a Dutcloman's beard, unless you do redeem že by fome laudable attempt, either of valour or policy.

Sir And. And't be any way, it must be with valour; for policy I hate: I had as lief be a Brownift as a politician.

Sir To.

Sir To. Why then, build me thy fortunes upon the basis of valour; challenge me the Duke's Youth to fight with him; hurt him in eleven places ; my Neice shall take note of it; and assure thy felf, there is no love-broker in the world can more prevail in man's commendation with woman than report of valour.

Fab. There is no way but this, Sir Andrew.

Şir And. Will either of you bear me a Challenge to him?

Sir To. Go, write in a martial hand; be curft and brief : it is no matter how witty, so it be eloquent, and full of invention; (13) taunt him with the licence of ink ; if thou thou'll him some thrice, it shall not be amiss; and as many lies as will lye in thy sheet of paper, although the sheet were big enough for the Bed of Ware in England set 'em down, go about it. Let there be gall enough in thy ink, tho thou write with a goofe-pen, no matter : about it. Sir And. Where shall I find you? Sir To. We'll call thee at the Cubiculo: go.

[Exit Sir Andrew. Fab. This is a dear manikin to you, Sir Toby.

(13) Taunt him with the Licence of Ink; if thou thou't him fome thrice,] There is no Doubt, I think, but this Paffage is one of those, in which our Author intended to shew his Respect for Sir Walter Raleigh, and a Deteftation of the Virulence of his Prosecutors. The Words, quoted, seem to me directly levellid at the Attorney General Coke, who, in the Trial of Sir Walter, attack'd him with all the following indecent Ex pressions.

“ All that be did was by thy. Inftigation, thou Viper for I thou thee, thou Traytor !” (Here, by the way, are the Poet's three thou's.) " You are an odious Man." “ Iš be base? I return it into thy Throat, on his behalfe."

60 damnable A“ theift!"

“Thou art a Monster ; thou haft an English Face, but “ a Spanish Heart." “Thou bast a Spanish Heart, and thyself e art a Spider of Hell.” “ Go to, I will lay thee on thy Back for “ the confident Traytor'that ever came at a Bar," &c. Is not here al the Licence of Tongue, which the Poet fatyrically prescribes to Sir Andrer's Ink? And how mean an Opinion Shakespeare had of these petulant Invectives, is pretty evident from his Close of this Speech ; Let there be Gall enough in thy Ink, thothou write it with a Goose-pen, no Matter. A keener Lash at the Attorney for a Fool, than all the Contumelies the Attorney threw at the Prisoner as a suppos'd Traytor!