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Act 2. Scene 3.]

TWELFTH-NIGHT; OR, WHAT YOU WILL.

Sir And. A mellifluous voice, as I am a true] knight.

Sir To. A contagious breath.

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

lady bade me tell you, that though she harbours
you as her kinsman, she's nothing ally'd to your
disorders. If you can separate yourself and your
misdemeanors, you are welcome to the house; if

Sir To. To hear by the nose, it is dulcet in 5 not, an it would please you to take leave of her,

contagion. 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 do that?

Sir And. An you love me, let's do't: I am a 10 dog at a catch.

Clo. By'r Lady, sir, and some dogs will catch well.
Sir A. Most certain: let our catch be,Thou knave.
Clo. Hold thy peace, thou knave, knight? I
shall be constrain'd'in't to call thee knave, knight. 15
Sir And. 'Tis not the first time I have constrain'd
one to call me knave. Begin fool; it begins,
Hold thy peace.

Clo. I shall never begin if I hold my peace.
Sir And. Good, i'faith: come, begin.
[They sing a catch.

Enter Maria.

she is very willing to bid you farewell.

Sir To. Farewell, dear heart, since I must needs be gone.

Mal. Nay, good sir Toby.

Clo. His eyes do shew his days are almost done.
Mal. Is't even so?

Sir To. But I will never die.

Clo. Sir Toby, there you lie.
Mal. This is much credit to you.
Sir To. Shall I bid him go?
Clo. What an if you do?

[Singing.

not?

and go, spare Sir To. Shall I bid kim Clo. O no, no, no, no, you dare not. Sir To. Out o'tune, sir, ye lie.-Art any more 20 than a steward? Dost thou think, because thou art virtuous, there shall be no more cakes and ale?

Mar. What a catterwauling do you keep here? If my lady have not call'd up her steward, Malvolio, and bid him turn you out of doors, never 25

trust me.

Sir To. My lady's a Cataian', we are politicians: merrymen Malvolio's a Peg-a-Ramsey+, and Three

be we'.
Am not I consanguineous? am I not of her blood: 30
Tilly-valley, lady! There dwelt a man in Babylon,
[Singing.
lady, lady!
Clo. Beshrew me, the knight's in admirable
fooling.

Sir And. Ay, he does well enough, if he be 35 dispos'd, and so do I too; he does it with a better grace, but I do it more natural.

Sir To. O the twelfth day of December,-
[Singing.
Mar. For the love o'God, peace.

Enter Malvolio.

Clo. Yes, by saint Anne; and ginger shall be hot i' the mouth too.

Sir To. Thou'rt i' the right.-Go, sir, rub your chain with crums:-A stoop of wine, Maria!Mal. Mistress Mary, if you priz'd my lady's favour at any thing more than contempt, you would not give means for this uncivil rule; she [Exit. shall know of it, by this hand.

Mur. Go shake your ears.

Sir And. "Twere as good a deed, as to drink when a man's a hungry, to challenge him to the field; and then to break promise with him, and make a fool of him.

Sir To. Do't, knight; I'll write thee a challenge; or I'll deliver thy indignation to him by word of mouth.

Mar. Sweet Sir Toby, be patient for to-night: since the youth of the count's was to-day with my 40 lady, she's much out of quiet. For monsieur Malvolio, let me alone with him: if I do not gull him into a nayword, and make him a common recreation, do not think I have wit enough to lie straight in my bed: I know I can do it.

Mal. My masters, are you mad? or what are you? Have you no wit, manners, nor honesty, but to gabble like tinkers at this time of night? Do ye make an ale-house of my lady's house, that ye squeak out your coziers" catches without any mi-45| tigation or remorse of voice? Is there no respect of place, persons, nor time, in you?

Sir To. We did keep time, sir, in our catches. Sneck up!

Mal. Sir Toby, I must be round with

6

you.

My

Sir To. Possess us11, possess us; tell us something of him.

Mar. Marry, sir, sometimes he is a kind of puritan.

Sir And. O, if I thought that, I'd beat him like

150la dog.

2 This expression of the power of musick, is That is, drink till the sky seems to turn round. familiar with our author. Much ado about Nothing: "Now is my soul ravished. Is it not strange that sheep's-guts should hule souls out of men's bodies?"-Why he says three sculs, is, because he is A term of reproach. speaking of a catch in three parts; and the peripatetic philosophy, then in vogue, very liberally gave This is a conclusion common to many every man three souls; the vegetative or plastic, the animal, and the rational. 8 A See note, p. 52. The name of a very obscene old song, old songs. Tilly-valley was an interjection of contempt, in use at that time. Lady, lady, is the bur 9 Mr. Steevens thinks we should read Sneakthen of the song, of which Sir Toby was probably reminded, by saying, " Tilly-valley, lady." cozir is a taylor, from the French word coudre, to sew. cup, i. e. one who takes his glass in a sneaking manner; but afterwards adds that sneck the door is a Alluding to the custom on holinorth-country expression for latch the door. I surmise that it means go hang yourself, in which the sense is good in five examples brought by Mr. Steevens. S. A. days or saints' days to make cakes in the honour of the day, which the Puritans called superstition.. Stewards formerly wore a chain as a mark of superiority over other servants. i. e. behaviour. 13i. e. a bye-word, a kind of proverbial reproach.

10

14 i. e. inform us, tell us.

12

Sir

Sir To. What, for being a puritan? thy exquisite reason, dear knight?

Sir And. I have no exquisite reason for't, but I have reason good enough.

5

Mar. The devil a puritan that he is, or any thing constantly but a time-pleaser; an affection'd' ass, that cons state without book, and utters it by great swarths: the best persuaded of himself, so crammi'd, as he thinks,with excellences, that it is his ground of faith, that all, that look on 10 him, love him; and on that vice in him will my revenge find notable cause to work.

Sir To. What wilt thou do?

Mar. I will drop in his way some obscure epistles
of love; wherein, by the colour of his beard, the 15
shape of his leg, the manner of his gait, the ex-
pressure of his eye, forehead, and complexion, he
shall find himself most feelingly personated; I can
write very like my lady, your niece; on a for-
gotten matter we can hardly make distinction of 20
our hands.

Sir To. Excellent' I smell a device.
Sir And. I have't in my nose too.

Sir To. He shall think, by the letters that thou wilt drop, that they come from my niece, and that 25 she is in love with him.

Mar. My purpose is, indeed a horse of that colour.

Sir And. And your horse would now make him

an ass.

Mar. Ass, I doubt not.

Sir And. O, 'twill be admirable.

30

Mar. Sport royal, I warrant you: I know, my physick will work with him. I will plant you two, and let the fool make a third, where he shall find the 35 letter; observe his.construction of it. For this night, to bed and dream on the event. Farewell. [Exit. Sir To. Good night, Penthesilea2.

Sir And. Before me, she's a good wench.

Now, good Cesario, but that piece of song,
That old and antique song we heard last night:
Methought, it did relieve my passion much;
More than light airs, and recollected' terms,
Of these most brisk and giddy-paced times:-
Come, but one verse.

Cur. He is not here, so please your lordship, that should sing it.

Duke. Who was it?

Cur. Feste, the jester, my lord; a fool, that the lady Olivia's father took much delight in: he is about the house.

Duke. Seek him out, and play the tune the while.
Come hither, boy: If ever thou shalt love,
[Exit Curio. Musick.
In the sweet pangs of it, remember me:
For, such as I am, all true lovers are:
Unstaid and skittish in all motions else,
Save, in the constant image of the creature
That is belov'd.-How dost thou like this tune?
Vio. It gives a very echo to the seat
Where love is thron'd.

Duke. Thou dost speak masterly :

My life upon't, young though thou art, thine eye
Hath stay'd upon some favour' that it loves;
Hath it not, boy?

Vio. A little, by your favour.

Duke. What kind of woman i'st?
Vio. Of your complexion.

Duke. She is not worth thee, then. What years,

i'faith?

Vio. About your years, my lord.

Duke. Too old, by heaven; Let still the woman

take

An elder than herself; so wears she to him,
So sways she level in her husband's heart.
For, boy, however we do praise ourselves,
Our fancies are more giddy and unfirm,
More longing, wavering, sooner lost and worn,

Sir To. She's a beagle, true-bred, and one that 40 Than women's are. adores me; What o'that?

Sir And. I was ador'd once too.

Sir To. Let's to bed, knight.-Thou hadst need

send for more money.

Vio. I think it well, my lord.

Duke. Then let thy love be younger than thyself,
Or thy affection cannot hold the bent:
For women are as roses, whose fair flower,

Sir And. If I cannot recover your niece, I am a|45|Being once display'd, doth fall that very hour. foul way out.

Sir To. Send for money, knight; if thou hast her not i' the end, call me Cut'.

Sir And. If I do not, never trust me, take it how

you will.

Sir To. Come, come; I'll go burn some sack, 'tis too late to go to bed now: come, knight; come, knight. [Exeunt.

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Now, good

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2 i. e. amazon. 'alluding to a cut or curtail dog.
some beauty, or complexion.
See note', p. 62.
i. e. worn out. "Meaning perhaps,
i. c. it is plain, simple truth. The old age implies the ages past, the

SONG.

SONG.

Come away, come away, death,

And in sad cypress let me be laid;

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Fly away, fly away, breath;

I am slain by a fair cruel maid.

My shroud of white, stuck all with yew,
O, prepare it;

My part of death no one so true
Did share it.

Not a flower, not a flower sweet,
On my black coffin let there be strown;

Not a friend, not a friend greet

Mypoor corpse, where my bones shall be thrown:
A thousand thousand sighs to save,
Lay me, O! where

Sad true love never find my grave,
Το weep there.

Duke. There's for thy pains.

Vio. Too well what love women to men may owe:
Jin faith, they are as true of heart as we.
My father had a daughter lov'd a man,
As it might be, perhaps, were I a woman,
5 I should your lordship.

Duke. And what's her history?

Vio. A blank, my lord: She never told her love,
But let concealment, like a worm i' the bud,
Feed on her damask cheek: she pin'd in thought;
10 And, with a green and yellow melancholy,
She sat like Patience on a monument,

Smiling at Grief. Was not this love, indeed?
We men may say more, swear more: but, indeed,
Our shows are more than will; for still we prove
15 Much in our vows, but little in our love.

Clo. No pains, sir; I take pleasure in singing, sir. 20
Duke. I'll pay thy pleasure then.

Clo. Truly, sir, and pleasure will be paid, one time or other.

Duke. Give me now leave to leave thee. Clo. Now, the melancholy god protect thee, and 25| the taylor make thy doublet of changeable tallata, for thy mind is a very opal':-I would have men of such constancy put to sea, that their business might be every thing, and their intent every where'; for that's it, that always makes a good voyage of 30 nothing. Farewell.

Duke. Let all the rest give place.

Once more Cesario,

[Exit. [Exeunt.

Get thee to yon same sovereign cruelty:
Tell her, my love, more noble than the world,
Prizes not quantity of dirty lands;

The parts that fortune hath bestow'd upon her,
Tell her, I hold as giddily as fortune;
But 'tis that miracle, and queen of gems,
That nature pranks her in, attracts my soul.
Tio. But, if she cannot love you, sir?-
Duke. I cannot be so answer'd.
Tio. 'Sooth, but you must.

Say, that some lady, as perhaps there is,
Hath for your love as great a pang of heart
As you have for Olivia: you cannot love her;
You tell her so; Must she not then be answer'd:
Duke. There is no woman's sides

Can bide the beating of so strong a passion,
As love doth give my heart: no woman's heart
So big, to hold so much: they lack retention.
Alas, their love may be call'd appetite,-
No motion of the liver, but the palate,-
That suffers surfeit, cloyment, and revolt;
But mine is all as hungry as the sea,
And can digest as much: make no compare
Between that love a woman can bear me,
And that I owe Olivia.

Fio. Ay, but I know,

Duke. What dost thou know?

1A precious stone of almost all colours. in view than another. Denay is denial.

3

Duke. But dy'd thy sister of her love, my boy? Vio. I am all the daughters of my father's house, And all the brothers too;-and yet I know not:Sir, shall I to this lady?

Duke. Ay, that's the theme.

To her in haste; give her this jewel; say,
My love can give no place, bide no denay'.

[Exeunt.

SCENE V.
Olivia's Garden.
Enter Sir Toby, Sir Andrew, and Fabian
Sir To. Come thy ways, signior Fabian.
Fab. Nay, I'll come: if I lose a scruple of this
sport, let me be bil'd to death with melancholy.

Sir To. Would'st thou not be glad to have the niggardly rascally sheep-biter come by some nota. ble shame?

Fab. I would exult, man: you know, he brought 35 me out of favour with my lady, about a bear-baiting here.

40

Sir To. To anger him, we'll have the bear again; and we will fool him black and blue: Shall we not, Sir Andrew?

Sir And. An we do not, it is pity of our lives.
Enter Maria.

Sir To. Here comes the little villain:-How now, my nettle of India'?

Mur. Get you all three into the box-tree: Mal45 volio's coming down this walk; he has been yonder the sun, practising behaviour to his own shadow, this half hour: observe him, for the love of mockery; for, I know, this letter will make a contemplative ideot of him. Close, in the name 50 of jesting! Lie thou there; for here comes the tout that must be caught with tickling.

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i. e. no where, as it hath no one more particular place Mr. Steevens observes, that the old copy reads "mettle of India;" meaning, my girl of gold, my precious girl; and this is probably the true meaning.

Sir To. Here's an over-weening rogue!
Fab. O, peace! Contemplation makes a rare
turkey-cock of him; how he jets' under his ad-
vanc'd plumes!

Sir And. 'Slight, I could so beat the rogue:-
Sir To. Peace, I say.

Mal To be count Malvolio ;

Sir To. Ah, rogue!

Sir And. Pistol him, pistol him.

Sir To. Peace, peace!

Mal. There is example for't; the lady of the strachy married the yeoman of the wardrobe. Sir And. Fie on him, Jezebel !

Fab. O, peace! now he's deeply in; look, how imagination blows him'.

Mal. Having been three months married to her, sitting in my state,

Sir To. O for a stone-bow, to hit him in the eye!

5

Sir And. I knew 'twas I; for many do call me

ool.

Mal. What employment have we here??

[Taking up the letter. Fab. Now is the woodcock near the gin. Sir To. Oh peace! and the spirit of humours intimate reading aloud to him!

Mal. By my life, this is my lady's hand: these be her very C's, her U's, and her T's; and thus 10 makes she her great P's. It is, in contempt of question, her hand.

Sir And. Her C's, her U's, and her T's: Why that?

Mal. "To the unknown belov'd, this, and my 15" good wishes:" her very phrases!-By your leave, wax.-Soft! and the impressure her Lucrece, with which she uses to seal: 'tis my lady: To whom should this be?

Mal. Calling my officers about me, in my 20 branch'd velvet gown; having come from a daybed, where I have left Olivia sleeping.

Sir To. Fire and brimstone!
Fab. O, peace, peace!

Mal. And then to have the humour of state: 25
and after a demure travel of regard,-telling them,
I know my place, as I would they should do theirs,
-to ask for my kinsman Toby :-

Sir To. Bolts and shackles!

Fab. O, peace, peace, peace! now, now. Mal. Seven of my people, with an obedient start, make out for him: I frown the while; and, perchance, wind up my watch', or play with some rich jewel. Toby approaches; curtsies there tome. Sir To. Shall this fellow live?

Fab. Though our silence be drawn from us with cars", yet peace.

Mal. I extend my hand to him thus, quenching my familiar smile with an austere regard of controul:

Sir To. And does not Toby take you a blow o'the lips then ?

Mal. Saying, "Cousin Toby, my fortunes hav"ing cast me on your niece, give me this pre rogative of speech ;"

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Sir To. What, what?

Mal. "You must mend

Sir To. Out, scab !

your drunkenness."

Fab. Nay, patience, or we break the sinews of our plot.

Mal. "Besides, you waste the treasure of your "time with a foolish knight;"

Sir And. That's me, I warrant you.

Mal. "One sir Andrew;"

1

30

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numbers alter'd!" No man must know:"-if this should be thee, Malvolio?

Sir To. Marry, hang thee, brock!

Mal. "I may command, where I adore:

"But silence, like a Lucrece knife, "With bloodless stroke my heart doth gore; "M. O. A. I. doth sway my life." Fab. A fustian riddle!

Sir To. Excellent wench, say I.

Mal. "M. O. A. I. doth sway my life."-Nay, 35 but first, let me see,-let me see,-let me see.

Fab. What a dish of poison has she dress'd him! Sir To. And with what wing the stannyel checks at it!

Mal. “I may command where I adore." Why 40 she may command me; Iserve her, she is my lady. Why, this is evident to any formal" capacity. There is no obstruction in this ;-And the end;What should that alphabetical position portend? If I could make that resemble something in me, 45-Softly;-M. O. A. I.—

Sir To. O, ay! make up that he is now at a cold scent.

Fab. Sowter will cry upon't, for all this, though it be as rank as a fox.

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3

Tojet is to strut. 2 Mr. Steevens proposes to read, we think happily, starchy; i. e. the room in which linen underwent the once most complicated operation of starching. 1i. e. puffs him up. i. e. a cross bow, a bow which shoots stones. 5 Watches at that time were very uncommon. • i. e. carts. 'Meaning, what's to do here? i. e. badger. He calls Malvolio one, because he is likely to be hunted like that animal. To badger a man, is a phrase now in use for making a fool of him. The stannyel is the common stone-hawk, in the north called stanchil. 1o i. e. flies at it. 11 j. e. any one in his senses. Probably means here the name of a hound. A souter, however, was a cobler.

12

the

the sequel; that suffers under probation: A should] follow, but O does.

Fab. And O shall end, I hope'.

Sir To. Ay, or I'll cudgel him, and make him cry, O.

Mal. And then I comes behind.

Fab. Ay, an you had an eye behind you, you might see more detraction at your heels, than fortunes before you.

Jings, and cross-garter'd, even with the swiftness of putting on. Jove, and my stars, be praised !-Here is yet a postscript. "Thou canst not chuse but know who I am. If thou entertainest my 5" love, let it appear in thy smiling; thy smiles "become thee well: therefore in my presence still smile, dear my sweet, I pr'ythee."-Jove, I thank thee.-I will smile; I will do every thing that thou wilt have me. [Exit.

Mal. M. Ŏ. A. I.-This simulation is not as the[10]
former-and yet, to crush this a little, it would
bow to me, for every one of these letters is in my
name. Soft; here follows prose.-
"If this fall

"into thy hand, revolve. În my stars I am above|
"thee; but be not afraid of greatness: Some are 15
"born great, some atchieve greatness, and some
"have greatness thrust upon them. Thy fates

Fab. I will not give my part of this sport for a pension of thousands to be paid from the Sophy. Sir To. I could marry this wench for this device.

Sir And. So could I too.

Sir To. And ask no other dowry with her, but such another jest.

Enter Maria.

Sir And. Nor I neither.

Fab. Here comes my noble gull-catcher.
Sir To. Wilt thou set thy foot o' my neck?
Sir And. Or o' mine either?

Sir To. Shall I play my freedom at tray-trip, and become thy bond-slave?

Sir And. Pfaith, or I either?

Sir To. Why, thou hast put him in such a dream, that, when the image of it leaves him, he must run mad.

Mar. Nay, but say true, does it work upon

open their hands; let thy blood-and spirit em"brace them And, to inure thyself to what "thou art like to be, cast thy humble slough, and 20 "appear fresh. Be opposite with a kinsman, surly "with servants: let thy tongue tang arguments of "state; put thyself into the trick of singularity: "She thus advises thee, that sighs for thee. Re"member who commended thy yellow stockings2; 25 ❝and wish'd to see thee ever cross-garter'd': I say, "remember. Go to; thou art made, if thou de"sirest to be so; if not, let me see thee a steward "still, the fellow of servants, and not worthy to "touch Fortune's fingers. Farewel. She, that|30|him? "would alter services with thee, The fortunate"unhappy." Day-light and champain discovers not more: this is open. I will be proud, I will read politic authors, I will baffle Sir Toby, I will wash off gross acquaintance, I will be point-de-vice, the 35 very man. I do not now fool myself to let imagination jade me; for every reason excites to this, that my lady loves me. She did commend my yellow stockings of late, she did praise my leg being crossgarter'd; and in this she manifests herself to my 40 love, and, with a kind of injunction, drives me to these habits of her liking. I thank my stars, I am happy. I will be strange, stout, in yellow stock

Sir To. Like aqua-vitä' with a midwife. Mar. If you will then see the fruits of the sport, mark his first approach before my lady: he will come to her in yellow stockings, and 'tis a colour she abhors; and cross-garter'd, a fashion she detests; and he will smile upon her, which will now be so unsuitable to her disposition, being addicted to a melancholy as she is, that it cannot but turn him into a notable contempt: if you will see it, follow me.

Sir To. To the gates of Tartar, thou most excellent devil of wit!

Sir And. I'll make one too.

[Exeunt.

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in our author's time, much worn.

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55

Vio. Art thou a churchman?

Clo. No such matter, sir; I do live by the church: for I do live at my house, and my house doth stand by the church.

Vio. So thou may'st say, the king lies by a beggar, if a beggar dwell near hum; or, the church

Meaning, probably, that it shall end in sighing or disappointment. 2 Yellow stockings were, The puritans of those times affected this fashion, and in a former scene Malvolio is said to have been an affecter of puritanism. i. e. broad day and an open country cannot make things plainer. i. e. with the utmost possible exactness. 6 Mr. Steevens supposes tray-trip to have been the name of some game at tables, draughts, or cards; while sir John Hawkins says it was a game (much in vogue in our author's days, and still retained among the lower class of young people in the west of England) the same as now goes under the name of Scotch-hop, which was play'd either upon level ground marked out with chalk in the form of squares or diamonds, or upon a chequered pavement. i. e. strong waters,

stands

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