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Tus comedy was first printed in the folio edition of but the refined delicacy of Shakspere's conception of 1623. The text is divided into acts and scenes ; and the female character could have redeemed Olivia from the order of these has been undisturbed in the modern approaching to the anti-feminine. But as it is, we pity cditions. With the exception of a few manifest typo- her, and we rejoice with her. These are what may be graphical errors, the original copy is remarkably called the serious characters, because they are the vehicorrect.
cles for what we emphatically call the poetry of the It was formerly supposed that this charming comedy play. But the comic characters are to us equally was written by Shakspere late in life. But there was poetical—that is, they appear to us not mere copies of found in the British Museum, in 1828, a little manu- the representatives of temporary or individual follier, script diary of a student of the Middle Temple, ex- but embodyings of the universal comic, as true and as tending from 1601 tv 1603, which leaves no doubt that fresh to-day as they were two centuries and a half age. the play was publicly acted at the Candlemas feast of Malvolio is to our minds as poetical as Don Quixote; the Middle Temple in 1602; and it belongs, therefore, and we are by no means sure that Shakspere meant the to the first year of the seventeenth century, or the last poor cross-gartered steward only to be laughed at, any of the sixteenth ; for it is not found in the list of Meres, more than Cervantes did the knight of the rueful couuin 1598.
tenance. He meant us to pity him, as Olivia and the It is scarcely necessary to enter into any analysis of Duke pitied bim ; for, in truth, the delusion by which the plot of this delightful comedy, or attempt any dis. Malvolio was wrecked, only passed out of the romantic section of its characters, for the purpose of opening to into the comic through the manifestation of the vanity the reader new sources of enjoyment. It is impossible, of the character in reference to his situation. But if we we think, for one of ordinary sensibility to read through laugh at Malvolio we are not to laugh ill-naturedly, the first act without yielding himself up to the genial for the poet has conducted all the mischief against him temper in which the entire play is written. “ The in a spirit in which there is no real malice at the bottom sunshine of the breast" spreadis its rich purple light of the fun. Sir Toby is a most genuine character,over the whole champain, and penetrates into every one given to strong potations and boisterous merriment; thicket and every dingle. From the first line to the but with a humour about him perfectly irresistible. Jast--from the Duke's
His abandon to the instant opportunity of laughing at “ That strain again ;-it had a dying fall,”
and with others is something so thoroughly English, that to the Clown's
we are not surprised the poet gave him an Englisla “ With hey, ho, the wind and the rain,"
And like all genuine humorists Sir Toby there is not a thought, nor a situation, that is not calcu- must have his butt. What a trio is presented in that lated to call forth pleasurable feelings. The love-me- glorious scene of the second act, where the two Knights lancholy of the Duke is a luxurious abandonment to and the Clown "make the welkin dance;"—the huone pervading impression—not a fierce and hopeless morist, the fool, and the philosopher ;– for Sir Andrew contest with one o'ermastering passion. It delights to is the fool, and the Clown is the philosopher! We hold lie "canopied with bowers," — to listen to “old and the Clown's epilogue song to be the most philosophical antique" songs, which dally with its “innocence,"— to Clown's song upon record; and a treatise might be be “full of shapes," and “high fantastical." The love written upon its wisdom. It is the history of a life. of l'iola is the sweetest and tenderest emotion that ever from the condition of “a little tiny boy," through informed the beart of the purest and most graceful of " man's estate," to decaying age—“when I came unto beings with a spirit almost divine. Perhaps in the my bed ;" and the conclusion is, that what is true of the whole rauge of Shakspere's poetry there is nothing which individual is true of the species, and what was of yescomes more unbidden into the mind, and always in terday was of generations long passed away-for connexion with some image of the ethereal beauty of the
" A great while ago the world begun." utterer, than Viola's "She never told her love." The Steevens says this “nonsensical ditty" is utterly unlove of Olivia, wilful as it is, is not in the slightest de connected with the subject of the comedy. We think gree repulsive. With the old stories before him, nothing he is mistaken.
TWELFTH NIGHT; OR, WHAT YOU WILL.
ORSINO, Duke of Illyria.
Act V. sc. 1.
A Sea-Captain, friend to Viola.
Appears, Act I. sc. 2.
Appears, Act I. sc. 1 ; sc. 4.
Appears, Act I. sc. l; sc. 4. Act II. sc. 4.
Sır Toby BELCH, uncle to Olivia.
SIR ANDREW AGUE-CHEEK.
s. 2; sc. 4. Act IV. sc. 1. Act V. sc. I.
Malvolio, steward to Olivia.
Act IV. sc. 2. Act V. se. 1.
Fabian, servant to Olivia.
Act V. sc. 1.
Clown, servant to Olivia.
Act IV. sc. l; sc. 2. Act V. sc. 1.
Olivia, a rich Countess.
Act V. sc. 1.
Act III. sc. 1; sc. 4. Act V. sc. 1.
Maria, Olivia's woman.
sc. 1; sc. 2; sc. 4. Act IV. se. 2.
SCENE-A CITY IN ILLYRIA; AND THE SEA-COAST NEAR IT.
SCENE 1- An Apartment in the Duke's Palace. Duke.
What, Curio? Cur.
The hart Enter Duke, Curio, Lords; Musicians attending.
Duke. Why, so I do, the noblest that I have :
(Methought she purg'd the air of pestilence,) The appetite may sicken, and so die.
That instant was I turn'd into a hart; That strain again ;-it had a dying fall :
And my desires, like fell and cruel hounds, 0, it came o'er my ear like the sweet sound
E'er since pursue me.- -How now? what news from her! That breathes upon a bank of violets, Stealing, and giving odour.-Enough; no more;
Enter VALENTINE. T is not so sweet now as it was before.
Val. So please my lord, I might not be admitted, O spirit of love, how quick and fresh art thou ! But from her handmaid do return this answer : That, notwithstanding thy capacity
The element itself, til seven years heat," Receiveth as the sea, nought enters there,
Shall not behold her face at ample view; Of what validity and pitch soe'er,
But, like a cloistress, she will veiled walk, But falls into abatement and low price,
And water once a day her chamber round Even in a minute! so full of shapes is fancy,
With eye-offending brine : all this, to season That it alone is liigh-fantastical.
A brother's dead love, which she would keep fresh Cur. Will you go hunt, my lord ?
And lasting, in her sad remembrance.
Duke. O, she that hath a heart of that fine frame, * Like the sweet sound. To those who are familiar with the sell-known text,
To pay this debt of love but to a brother, “O, it came o'er my ear like the sweet south.”
How will she love, when the rich golden shaft
Hath kill'd the flock of all affections else the restoration of the word sound, which is the reading of all the early editions, will at first appear strange and startling. That live in her! wiren liver, brain, and heart, Bat Sbakspere has nowhere made the south an odour-breathing Those sovereign thrones, are all supplied, and fill'd, sind; his other representations are directly contrary. In • As (Her sweet perfections,) with one self king ! You Like It,' Rosalind says, * You foolish shepherd, wherefore do you follow her
Away before me to sweet beds of flowers ; Like figgy south, puffing with wind and rain from
Love-thoughts lie rich, when canopied with bowers. le Rotso an 1 Juliet' we have the "dew-dropping south ; " in
[Exeunt Cymbeline, “ The south-fog rot him.'
SCENE II.- The Sea-coast.
death of her brotł.er thus? I am sure care 's an enemy
to life. Enter VIOLA, Captain, and Sailors.
Mar. By my troth, sir Toby, you must come Vio. What country, friends, is this?
earlier o'nights; your cousin, my lady, takes great exCap.
This is Illyria, lady. ceptions to your ill hours. Vio. And what should I do in Illyria ?
Sir To. Why, let her except before excepted. My brother he is in Elysium.
Mar. Ay, but you must confine yourself within the Perchance he is not drown'd:- What think you, sailors? modest limits of order.
Cap. It is perchance that you yourself were sav'd. Sir To. Confine? I 'll confine myself no finer than Vio. O my poor brother! and so, perchance, may he be. I am : these clothes are good enough to drink in, and
Cap. True, madam; and to comfort you with chance, i so be these boots too; an they be not, let them hang Assure yourself, after our ship did split,
themselves in their own straps. When you, and those poor number sav'd with you, Mar. That quaffing and drinking will undo you : 1 Hung on our driving wat, I saw your brother, heard my lady talk of it yesterday, and of a foolish Most provident in peril, bind himself
knight, that you brought in one night here, to be her (Courage and hope both teaching him the practice) To a strong mast, that liv'd upon the sea ;
Sir To. Who? Sir Andrew Ague-cheek ? Where, like Arion on the dolphin's back,
Mar. Ay, he. I saw him hold acquaintance with the waves,
Sir To. He's as talla a man as any 's in Illyria. So long as I could see.
Mar. What 's that to the purpose ? Vio
For saying so, there 's gold : Sir To. Why, he has three thousand ducats a year. Mine own escape unfoldeth to my hope,
Mar. Ay, but he'll have but a year in all these Whereto thy speech serves for authority,
ducats ; he's a very fool, and a prodigal. The like of him. Know'st thou this country !
Sir To. Fie, that you 'll say so! he plays o' the viol. Cap. Ay, madam, well; for I was bred and born, degamboys, and speaks three or four languages word Not three hours' travel from this very place.
for word without book, and hath all the good gifts of Vio. Who governs here?
nature. Cap. A noble duke, in nature as in name.
Mar. He hath, indeed, almost natural: for besides Vio. What is his name?
that he 's a fool, he's a great quarreller ; and but that Cap. Orsino.
he hath the gift of a coward to allay the gust he hath in Vio. Orsino! I have heard my father name him : quarrelling, 't is thought among the prudent he would He was a bachelor then.
quickly have the gift of a grave. Cap. And so is now, or was so very late:
Sir To. By this hand, they are scoundrels and sul, For but a month ago I went from hence;
tractors that say so of him. Who are they? And then 't was fresh in murmur, (as, you know,
Mar. They that add, moreover, he 's drunk nightly What great ones do, the less will prattle of,)
your company. That he did seek the love of fair Olivia.
Sir To. With drinking healths to my niece: I'll Vio. What 's she?
drink to her as long as there is a passage in my throat, Cap. A virtuous maid, the daughter of a count and drink in Illyria. He's a coward, and a coystril, That died some twelvemonth since; then leaving her that will not drink to my niece till his brains turn o' In the protection of his son, her brother,
the toe like a parish-top. What, wench?.CastilianoWho shortly also died : for whose dear love,
vulgo; for here comes sir Andrew Ague-face. They say, she hath abjur'd the sight
Enter Sır ANDREW AGUE-CHEEK.
O, that I serv'd that lady: Sir And. Sir Toby Belch! how now, sir Toby And might not be deliver'd to the world,
Belch! Till I had made mine own occasion mellow
Sir To. Sweet sir Andrew!
Sir And. Bless you, fair shrew
Mar. And you too, sir.
Sir To. Accost, sir Andrew, accost. No, not the duke's.
Sir And. What 's that? Vio. There is a fair behaviour in thee, captain;
Sir To. My niece's chambermaid. And though that nature with a beauteous wall
Sir And. Good mistress Accost, I desire better acDoth oft close in pollution, yet of thee
quaintance. I will believe thou hast a mind that suits
Mar. My name is Mary, sir. With this thy fair and outward character.
Sir And. Good mistress Mary Accost,I prithee, and I 'll pay thee bounteously,
Sir To. You mistake, knight; accost is, front her, Conceal me what I am; and be my aid
board her, woo her, assail her. For such disguise as, haply, shall become
Sir And. By my troth, I would not undertake her in The form of my intent. I 'll serve this duke;
this company. Is that the meaning of accost ? Thou shalt present me as an eunuch to him,
Mar. Fare you well, gentlemen. It may be worth thy pains; for I can sing,
Sir To. An thou let part so, sir Andrew, would thou Anil speak to him in many sorts of music,
mightst never draw sword again. That will allow me very worth his service.
Sir And. An you part so, mistress, I would I might What else may hap, to time I will commit;
never draw sword again. Fair lady, do you think you Only shape thou thy silence to my wit.
have fools in hand ? Cap. Be you his eunuch, and your mute I 'll be; Mar. Sir, I have not you by the hand. When my tongue blabs, then let mine eyes vot see ! Sir And. Marry, but you shall have; and here's Vio. I thank thee: Lead me on.
[Exeunt. my hand.
Mar. Now, sir, thought is free: I pray you. ling SCENE III.-A Room in Olivia's House. your hand to the buttery-bar, and let it drink. Enter Sie TOBY BELCI and Maria.
a Tall-stout, bold.
Viol-de-gamboys-a kind of violoncello. Sir To. What a plague means my niece, to take the c Board her- address her.
Sir And. Wherefore, sweetneart? wnat's your meta- Sir To. What shall we do else? were we not bora
under Taurus ? Mar. It 's dry, sir.
Sir And. Taurus ? that 's sides and heart.
Mar. Å dry jest, sir.
SCENE IV-A Room in the Duke's Palace Mar. Ay, sir; I have them at my fingers' ends :
Enter VALENTINE, and V10LA in man's attire. marry, now I let go your hand I am barren. (Ez. Mar. Sir To. O knight, thou lack'st a cup of canary :
Val. If the duke continue these favours towards you, When did I see thee so put down?
Cesario, you are like to be much advanced; he hath Sir And. Never in your life, I think; unless you known you but three days, and already you are no see canary put me down : Methinks sometimes I have stranger. Do more vit than a christian, or an ordinary man has : Vio. You either fear his humour, or my negligence, but I am a great eater of beef, and I believe that does that you call in question the continuance of his love: harm to my wit.
Is he inconstant, sir, in his favours ? Så To. No question.
Val. No, believe me. Sir And. An I thought that, I 'd forswear it. I'll ride home to-morrow, sir Toby.
Enter Duke, Curio, and Attendants. Sir To. Pourquoy, my dear knight?
Vio. I thank you. Here comes the count. Sir And. What is pourquoy? do or not do? I would Duke. Who saw Cesario, ho ? I had bestowed that time in the tongues that I have in Vio. On your attendance, my lord; here. fencing, dancing, and bear-baiting : 0, had I but fol- Duke. Stand you awhile aloof.Cesario, lowed the arts !
Thou know'st no less but all; I have unclasp'ii Sir To. Then hadst thou had an excellent head of To thee the book even of my secret soul :
Therefore, good youth, address thy gait unto her ; Sir And. Why, would that bave mended my hair? Be not denied access, stand at her doors,
Sir To. Past question; for thou see'st it will not curl And tell them, there thy fixed foot shall grow, by nature.
Till thou have audience. Sir And. But it becomes me well enough, does 't not? Vio.
Sure, my noble lord, Sir To. Excellent; it hangs like flax on a distaff'; If she be so abandon'd to her sorrow and I hope to see a housewife take thee between her legs, As it is spoke, she never will admit me. and spin it off.
Duke. Be clamorous, and leap all civil bounds, Sir And. Faith, I'll home to-morrow, sir Toby; Rather than make unprofited return. your niece will not be seen; or, if she be, it 's four to Vio. Say, I do speak with her, my lord : What then! me she 'll none of me: the count himself, here hard by, Duke. O, then unfold the passion of my love; vous ber.
Surprise her with discourse of my dear faith :
Vio. I think not so, my lord.
Dear lad, believe in i o' the strangest rnind i' the world; I delight in masques For they shall yet belie thy happy years ad revels sometimes altogether.
That say, thou art a man: Diana's lip
Sir And. As any man in Illyria, whatsoever he be, Is as the maiden's organ, shrill and sound, under the degree of my betters; and yet I will not com
And all is semblative a woman's part. pare with an old man.
I know thy constellation is right apt Sir To. What is thy excellence in a galliard, For this affair :-Some four, or five, attend him; knight?
All, if you will; for I myself am best Sir And. Faith, I can cut a caper.
When least in company :-Prosper well in this, Sir To. And I can cut the mutton to 't.
And thou shalt live as freely as thy lord, Sir And. And, I think, I have the back-trick, simply To call his fortunes thine. as strong as any man in Illyria.
I 'll do my best Sir To. Wherefore are these things hid? wherefore To woo your lady: yet, [aside) a barful strife! have these gifts a curtain before them ? are they like to Whoe'er I woo, myself would be his wife. (Exeunt. take dust, like mistress Mall's picture? why dost thou not go to church in a galliard, and come home in a
SCENE V.-A Room in Olivia's House. coranto? My very walk should be a jig; I would not
Enter Maria and Clown. so much as make water but in a sink-a-pace. What dost thou mean is it a world to hide virtues in? I did Mar. Nay, either tell me where thou hast been, or I will think, by the excellent constitution of thy leg it was not open my lips so wide as a bristle may enter, in way formel under the star of a galliard.
of thy excuse : my lady will hang thee for thy absence. Sir And. Ay, 't is strong, and it does indifferent well clo. Let her hang me: he that is well hanged in this in a damask-coloured stock.d Shall we set about some
world needs to fear no colours. revels ?
Mar. Make that good.
Clo. He shall see none to fear. & Galliard--a lively dance.
Mar. A good lenten answer : I can tell thee where Ceranto-a quick dance. * Sinka-pace-civque-pace: a dance whose movement was
that saying was born, of, I fear no wlours. alatel by the number fire.
Clo. Where, good mistress Mary? à Damask-clared stock. Stock is stocking. In the original Mar. In the wars; and that may you be bold to say se find dam'd coloured. Pope changed this to flame-coloured. in your foolery. We are sentared to read damask-coloured ; for it is evident that, if the word damask were written as pronounced rapidly, those that are fools let them use their talents.
Clo. Well, God give them wisdom that have it; md ca'ék, it might easily be misprinted dama.
Mar. Yet you will be hanged, for being so long ab- Oli. O, you are sick of self-love, Malvolio, and taste sent; or, to be turned away: is not that as good as a with a distempered appetite. To be generous, guiltless, banging to you?
and of free disposition, is to take those things for bird. Clo. Many a good hanging prevents a bad marriage; bolts that you deem cannon-bullets : There is no slanand, for turning away, let summer bear it out.
der in an allowed fool, though he do nothing but rail; Mar. You are resolute, then ?
nor no railing in a known discreet man, though he do Clo. Not so, neither ; but I am resolved on two nothing but reprove. points.
Clo. Now Mercury endue thee with leasing, for Mar. That if one break the other will hold; or, if thou speakest well of fools ! both break your gaskins fall.
Re-enter MARIA. Clo. Apt, in good faith ; very apt! Well, go thy way; if sir Toby would leave drinking, thou wert as
Mar. Madam, there is at the gate a young gentle witty a piece of Eve's flesh as any in Illyria.
man much desires to speak with you. Mar. Peace, you rogue, no more o' that;
Oli. From the count Orsino, is it? my lady: make your excuse wisely, you were best.
Mar. I know not, madam; 't is a fair young man, [Exit. and well attended.
Oli. Who of my people hold him in delay ?
Mar. Sir Toby, madam, your kinsman. Clo. Wit, an 't be thy will, put me into good fool- Oli. Fetch him off, I pray you; he speaks nothing ing! Those wits that think they have thee do very oft but madman: Fie on him! [Exit MARIA.] Go you, prove fools; and I, that am sure I lack thee, may pass Malvolio: if it be a suit from the count, I am sick, or for a wise man: For what says Quinapalus ? Better a not at home; what you will, to dismiss it. (Exit MALwitty fool, than a foolish wit.—God bless thee, lady! VOL10.] Now you see, sir, how your fooling grows old, Oli. Take the fool away.
and people dislike it. Clo. Do you not hear, fellows? Take away the lady. cio. Thou hast spoke for us, madonna, as if thy
Oli. Go to, you 're a dry fool; I 'll no more of you: eldest son should be a fool; whose skull Jove cram besides, you grow dishonest.
with brains ! for here he comes, one of thy kin, has a Clo. Two faults, madonna, that drink and good most weak pia mater. counsel will amend : for give the dry fool drink, then
Enter Sır TOBY BELCH. is the fool not dry; bid the dishonest man mend himself,—if he mend, he is no longer dishonest; if he can- Oli. By mine honour, half drunk.—What is he at not, let the botcher mend him: Anything that 's mended the gate, cousin ? is but patched : virtue that transgresses is but patched Sir To. A gentleman. with sin; and sin that amends is but patched with vir- Oli. A gentleman ? what gentleman ? tue: If that this simple syllogism will serve, so; if it Sir To. "T is a gentleman here-A plague o' these will not, What remedy? As there is no true cuckold pickle-herrings !-How now, sot? but calamity, so beauty 's a flower :—the lady bade take Clo. Good sir Toby,– away the fool; therefore, I say again, take her away.
Oli. Cousin, cousin, how have you come so early by Oli. Sir, I bade them take away you.
this lethargy ? Clo. Misprision in the highest degree ! – Lady, Cu- Sir To. Lechery! I defy lechery : There's one at cullus non facit monachum ; that 's as much to say as, the gate. I wear not motley in my brain. Good madonna, give Oli. Ay, marry; what is he? me leave to prove you a fool.
Sir To. Let him be the devil, an he will, I care not : Oli. Can you do it ?
give me faith, say I. Well, it's all one. [Erit Clo. Dexterously, good madonna.
Oli. What 's a drunken man like, fool? Oli. Make your proof.
Clo. Like a drowned man, a fool, and a madman: Clo. I must catechise you for it, madonna : Good one draught above heat makes him a fool; the second iny mouse of virtue, answer me.
mads him ; and a third drowns him. Oli. Well, sir, for want of other idleness, I 'll 'bide Oli. Go thou and seek the crowner, and let him sit your proof.
o'my coz; for he's in the third degree of drink, he's Clo. Good madonna, why mourn'st thou ?
drowned : go, look after him. Oli. Good fool, for my brother's death.
Clo. He is but mad yet, madomia; and the fool Clo. I think his soul is in hell, madonna.
shall look to the madman.
[Exit Clown. Oli. I know his soul is in heaven, fool.
Re-enter MALVOLIO. Clo. The more fool, madonna, to mourn for your brother's soul being in heaven.—Take away the fool, Mal. Madam, yond young fellow swears he will gentlemen.
speak with you. I told him you were sick; he takes Oli. What think you of this fool, Malvolio ? doth he on him to understand so much, and therefore comes to not mend ?
speak with you: I told him you were asleep, he seems Mal. Yes; and shall do, till the pangs of death to have a foreknowledge of that too, and therefore comes shake him : Infirmity, that decays the wise, doth ever to speak with you. What is to be said to him, lady? inake the better fuol.
he 's fortified against any denial. Clo. God send you, sir, a speedy infirmity, for the
Oli. Tell him be shall not speak with me. better increasing your folly! Sir Toby will be sworn Mal. He has been told so; and he says, he'll stand that I am no fox; but he will not pass his word for at your door like a sheriff's post, and be the supporter twopence that you are no fool.
of a bench, but he 'll speak with you. Oli. How say you to that, Malvolio?
Oli. What kind of man is he? Mal. I marvel your ladyship takes delight in such a Mal. Why, of mankind. barren rascal: 1 saw him put down the other day with Oli. What manner of man? an ordinary fool that has no more brain than a stone. Mal. Of very ill manner; he'll speak with you, Look you now, he's out of his guard already; unless will you, or no. you laugh and minister occasion to him, he is gagged.
a Leasing-falsehood. The meaning probably is, since thou Í protest I take these wise men, that crow so at these peakest the truth of fools (which is not profitable), may Mer set kind of fools, no better than the fools' zanies. oury give thee the advantageous gift of lying.