Puslapio vaizdai
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Cur. 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 fee Olivia first,

Methought the purg'd the air of peftilence;

That inftant was I turn'd into a hart,

And my defires, like fell and cruel hounds,

E'er fince pursue me. How now, what news from her?

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Val. So please my Lord, I might not be admitted,

But from her handmaid do return this answer.

The element itself, till seven years hence,
Shall not behold her face at ample view:
But, like a cloistress, 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 frames
To pay this debt of love but to a brother,
How will the love, when the rich golden shaft
Hath kill'd the flock of all affections else
That live in her? when liver, brain, and heart,
Three fov'reign thrones, are all fupply'd, and fill'd,
(O sweet perfection!) with one felf-fame King!
Away before me to fweet beds of flowers;
Love-thoughts lie rich, when canopy'd with bowers.

SCENE II. The street.

Enter Viola, a Captain, and failors...

Vio. What country, friends, is this!

Cap. Illyria, Lady.

Vio. And what should I do in Illyria?

[Exeunt

My brother he is in Elysium.-
Perchance he is not drown'd; what think you, failors?
Cap. It is perchance that you yourself were fav'd.
Vio. O my poor brother! so perchance may he be.
Cap. True, Madam: and, to comfort you with chance,

Affure

Affure yourself, after our ship did split,
When you, and that poor number sav'd with you,
Hung on our driving boat: I faw your brother,
Most provident in peril, bind himself

(Courage and hope both teaching him the practice)
To a strong mast, that liv'd upon the sea;
Where, like Aríon on the dolphin's back,
I faw him hold acquaintance with the waves,
So long as I could fee.

Vio. For faying so, there's gold.
Mine own escape unfoldeth to my hope,
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?

:

Cap. A noble Duke in nature, as in name.
Vio. What is his name?

Cap. Orfino.

Vio. Orfino! I have heard my father name him: He was a bachelor then.

Cap. And fo is now, or was so very late:

For but a month ago I went from hence,
And then 'twas fresh in murmur (as you know,
What great ones do, the lefs will prattle of)
That he did seek the love of fair Olivia,

Vio. What's she?

Cap. A virtuous maid, the daughter of a Count,
That dy'd fome twelvemonths fince, then leaving her
In the protection of his fon, her brother,
Who shortly also dy'd; for whose dear love,

They say, she hath abjur'd the fight

And company of men.

:

Vio. O that I ferv'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 fuit.
No, not the Duke's.

Vio. There is a fair behaviour in thee, Captain; And tho' that nature with a beauteous wall

Doth

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 bounteoufly,
Conceal me what I am, and be my aid
For fuch disguise as, haply, shall become
The form of my intent. I'll serve this Duke;
Thou shalt prefent me as an eunuch to him,
It may be worth thy pains; for I can fing,
And speak to him in many forts of music,
That will allow me very worth his service.
What elfe r hap, to time I will commit;
Only shape thou thy filence to my wit.

Cap. Be you his eunuch, and your mute I'll be;
When my tongue blabs, then let mine eyes not fee.
Vio. I thank thee: lead me on.

[Exeunt.

SCENE III. An apartment in Olivia's house.
Enter Sir Toby, and Maria.

Sir To. What a plague means my niece, to take the death of her brother thus? I am fure care's an enemy to life.

Mar. By my troth, Sir Toby, you must come in earlier a-nights; your niece, my Lady, takes great exceptions to your ill hours.

Sir To. Why, let her except before excepted.

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

Sir To. Confine, I'll confine mysel no finer than I am; these clothes are good enough to drink in, and fo be these boots too: an they be not, let them hang themselves in their own straps.

Mar. That quaffing and drinking will undo you; I heard my Lady talk of it yesterday, and of a foolish knight that you brought in one night here, to be her

wooer.

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.

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 fo! he plays o' th' violde-gambo, and speaks three or four languages word for word without book, and hath all the good gifts of na

ture.

Mar. He hath, indeed, almost natural; for beTides that he's a fool, he's a great quarreller; and but that he hath the gift of a coward to allay the gust 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 fubtractors that say so of him. Who are they?

Mar. They that add moreover, he's drunk nightly in your company.

Sir To. With drinking healths to my niece. I'll drink to her as long as there's a passage in my throat, and drink in Illyria. He's a coward, and a coystril, that will not drink to my niece till his brains turn o' th' toe like a parish-top. What, wench? Caftiliano volto*; for here comes Sir Andrew Ague-cheek.

SCENE IV. Enter Sir Andrew.

Sir And. Sir Toby Belch! how now, Sir Toby Belch?

Sir To. Sweet Sir Andrew!

Sir And. Bless you, fair shrew.

Mar. And you too, Sir.

Sir To. Accoft, Sir Andrew, accoft.

Sir And. What's that?

Sir To. My niece's chambermaid.

Sir And. Good Mistress Accost, I defire better ac

quaintance.

Mar. My name is Mary, Sir.

Sir And. Good Mistress Mary Accoft,

Sir To. You mistake, Knight: Accoft is, front her,

board her, woo her, affail her.

VOL. III.

H

Sir And.

* In English, Put on your Caftilian countenance; that is, your graven folemn looks.

Sir And. By my troth, I would not undertake her in

this company. Is that the meaning of accost? Mar. Fare you well, Gentlemen.

Sir To. An thou let her part fo, Sir Andrew, would

thou might'st never draw fword again.

Sir And. An you part so, Mistress, I would I might never draw sword again. Fair Lady, do you think yo have fools in hand?

Mar. Sir, I have not you by th' hand.

Sir And. Marry, but you shall have, and here's my

hand.

Mar. Now, Sir, thought is free. I pray you, bring your hand to th' buttery-bar, and let it drink.

Sir And. Wherefore, sweet heart? what's your me taphor?

i

Mar. It's dry, Sir.

Sir And. Why, I think fo: I am not fuch an afs, but I can keep my hand dry. But what's your jeft? Mar. A dry jeft, Sir.

Sir And. Are you full of them?

Mar. Ay, Sir, I have them at my finger's ends marry, now I let your hand go, I am barren.

[Exit Maria.

Sir To. O Knight, thou lack'ft a cup of canary: when did I sce thee so put down?

Sir And. Never in your life, I think, unless you fee canary put me down: methinks sometimes I have no more wit than a Christian, or an ordinary man has; but I am a great eater of beef, and I believe that does harm to my wit.

Sir To. No question.

Sir And. An I thought that, I'd forswear it. I'll ride home to-morrow, Sir Toby.

Sir To. Pourquoy, my dear Knight?

Sir And. What is Pourquoy? do, or not do? I would I had bestowed that time in the tongues that I have in fencing, dancing, and bear-baiting. O had I but follow'd the arts!

Sir To. Then hadst thou an excellent head of hair.
Sir And. Why, would that have mended my hair?
Sir To. Past question; for thou seest it will not curl

by nature.

Sir And.

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