Puslapio vaizdai
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Sir And. But it becomes me well enough, does't not? Sir To. Excellent! it hangs like flax on a distaff; and I hope to fee a housewife take thee between her legs, and spin it off.

Sir And. 'Faith, I'll home to-morrow, Sir Toby; vour niece will not be seen; or, if she be, it's four to one she'll none of me: the Duke himself here, hard , wooes her.

Sir To. She'll none o' th' Duke: she'll not match

above her degree, neither in estate, years, nor wit; I have heard her swear it. Tut, there's life in't, man.

Sir And. I'll stay a month longer. 1 am a fellow o' th' strangest mind i' th' world. I delight in masks and revels sometimes altogether.

Sir To. Art thou good at these kickshaws, Knight? Sir And. As any man in Illyria, whatsoever he be, under the degree of my betters, and yet I will not compare with an old man.

Sir To. What, is thy excellence in a galliard, Knight?
Sir And. 'Faith, I can cut a caper.

Sir To. And I can cut the mutton to't.

Sir And. And I think I have the back-trick, simply as strong as any man in Illyria.

Sir To. Wherefore are these things hid? wherefore have these gifts a curtain before them? are they like to take duft, like Mistress Mall's picture? Why doft thou not go to church in a galliard, and come home in a coranto? My very walk should be a jig! I would not fo much as make water, but in a cinque-pace. What dost thou mean? it is a world to hide virtues in? I did think, by the excellent constitution of thy leg, it was form'd under the star of a galliard.

Sir And. Ay, tis strong, and it does indifferent well in a flame-colour'd stocking. Shall we fet about fome revels?

Sir To. What shall we do elfe? were we not born under Taurus?

Sir And. Taurus? that's fides and heart.

Sir To. No, Sir, it is legs and thighs. Let me fee.

thee caper; ha! higher: ha, ha! - excellent.

H 2

[Exeunt.

SCENE

SCENE V. Changes to the palace.

Enter Valentine, and Viola in man's attire.

Val. If the Duke continue these favours towards you, Cefario, you are like to be much advane'd; he hath known you but three days, and already you are n stranger.

Vio. You either fear his humour, or my negligence, that you call in question the continuance of his love. Is he inconstant, Sir, in his favours?

Val. No, believe me.

Enter Duke, Curio, and attendants.

Vio. I thank you. Here comes the Duke.
Duke. Who faw Cesario, hoa?

Vio. On your attendance, my Lord, here.
Duke. Stand you a while aloof.Cefario,
Thou know'st no less, but all: I have unclasp'd
To thee the book even of my fecret foul.
Therefore, good youth, address thy gate unto her;
Be not deny'd access; stand at her doors,
And tell them, there thy fixed foot shall grow,
Till thou have audience.

Vio. Sure, my noble Lord,
If she be fo abandon'd to her forrow
As it is spoke, she never will admit me.
Duke. Be clamorous, and leap all civil bounds,
Rather than make unprofited return.

Vio. Say, I do fpeak with her, my Lord; what then?
Duke. O, then, unfold the paffion of my love:
Surprise her with discourse of my dear faith;
It fhall become thee well to act my woes;
She will attend it better in thy youth,
Than in a nuncio of more grave aspect,

Vio. I think not fo, my Lord.

Duke. Dear lad, believe it:

For they shall yet belie thy happy years,

That fay thou art a man: Diana's lip

Is not more fmooth and rubious; thy small pipe

Is as the maiden's organ, shrill, and found,

And all is semblative a woman's part.

1

I know

I know thy constellation is right apt
For this affair: fome four or five attend him;
All, if you will; for I myself am best
When leaft in company. Profper well in this,
And thou shalt live as freely as thy Lord,
To call his fortunes thine.

Vio. I'll do my best

To woo your Lady; yet a barrful strife! Whoe'er- I woo, myself would be his wife.

SCENE VI. Changes to Olivia's house.

Enter Maria and Clown.

[Exeunt.

Mar. Nay, either tell me where thou hast been, or I will not open my lips so wide as a briftle may enter in way of thy excuse; my Lady will hang thee for thy abfence.

Clo. Let her hang me; he that is well hang'd in this

world, needs fear no colours.

Mar. Make that good.

Clo. He shall fee none to fear.

Mar. A good lenten answer. I can tell thee where

that saying was born, of I fear no colours.

Clo. Where, good Mistress Mary?

Mar. In the wars; and that may you be bold to say in your foolery.

Clo. Well, God give them wisdom that have it; and thofe that are fools, let them use their talents.

Mar. Yet you will be hang'd for being fo long abfent, or be turn'd away; is not that as good as a hanging to you?

Clo. Marry, a good hanging prevents a bad marriage; and for turning away, let fummer bear it out. Mar. You are refolute, then?

Clo. Not so neither; but I am refolv'd on two points. Mar. That if one break, the other will hold; or if

both break, your gafkins fall.

Clo. Apt, in good faith; very apt: well, go thy way; if Sir Toby would leave drinking, thou wert as witty a piece of Eve's flesh as any in Illyria.

Mar. Peace, you rogue, no more o' that. Here comes my Lady; make your excuse wisely, you were beft.

SCENE VII. Enter Olivia, and Malvolio.

[Exit.

Clo. Wit, and't be thy will, put me into a good fool ing! Those wits that think they have thee, do very oft prove fools; and that I am fure I lack thee, may pass for a wife man. For what fays Quinapalus? Better be a witty fool than a foolish wit. God bless thee, Lady!

Oli. Take the fool away.

Clo. Do you not hear, fellows? take away the Lady. Oli. Go to, y'are a dry fool; I'll no more of you; befides, you grow dishonest.

Clo. Two faults, Madona, that drink and good coumfel will amend; for give the dry fool drink, then is the fool not dry. Bid the dishonest man mend himfelf; if he mend, he is no longer dishoneft; if he cannot, let the botcher mend him. Any thing that's mended, is but patch'd: virtue that tranfgreffes, is but patch'd with fin; and fin that amends, is but patch'd with virtue. If that this fimple fyllogifm will ferve, so; if it will not, what remedy? as there is no true cuckold but calamity, fo beauty's a flower: the Lady bade take away the fool; therefore I say again, take her away.

Oli. Sir, I bade them take away you.

Clo. Mifprifion in the highest degree. Lady, Cucullus non facit monachum; that's as much as to say, I wear not motley in my brain. Good Madona, give me leave to prove you a fool.

Oli. Can you do it!

Clo. Dexteroufly, good Madona.

Oli. Make your proof.

Clo. I must catechise you for it, Madona, good my

mouse of virtue, anfwer me.

Oli. Well, Sir, for want of other idleness, I'll bide your proof.

Clo. Good Madona, why mourn'st thou?
Oli. Good fool, for my brother's death.
Clo. I think his foul is in hell, Madona.
Oli. I know his foul is in heav'n, fool.

Cle

Clo. The more fool you, Madona, to mourn for your brother's foul being in heav'n. Take away the fool, Gentlemen.

Oli. What think you of this fool, Malvolio? doth he not mend?

Mal. Yes, and shall do, till the pangs of death shake shim. Infirmity, that decays the wife, doth ever make better the fool.

Clo. God fend you, Sir, a speedy infirmity, for the better increasing your folly! Sir Toby will be sworn that I am no fox; but he will not pass his word for two-pence that you are no fool.

Oli. How fay you to that, Malvolio?

Mal. I marvel your Ladyship takes delight in fuch a barren rascal. I faw him put down the other day with an ordinary fool, that has no more brain than a stone. Look you now, he's out of his guard already; unless you laugh and minifter occafion to him, he is gagg'd. I protest, I take these wife men that crow so at these set kind of fools, no better than the fools' Zanies.

Oli. O, you are fick of felf-love, Malvolio, and tafte with a diftemper'd appetite. To be generous, guiltless, and of free difpofition, is to take those things for birdbolts that you deem cannon-bullets: there is no slander in an allow'd fool, though he do nothing but rail; nor no railing in a known difcreet man, though he do nothing but réprove.

Clo. Now, Mercury endue thee with pleasing, for thou speak'st well of fools!

Enter Maria.

Mar. Madam, there is at the gate a young gentleman much defires to speak with you.

Oli. From the Count Orfino, is it?

Mar. I know not, Madam; 'tis a fair young man, and well attended.

Oli, Who of my people hold him in delay?
Mar. Sir Toby, Madam, your uncle.

Oli. Fetch him off, I pray you; he speaks nothing but madman: fie on him! Go you, Malvolio; if it be a fuit from the Count, I am fick, or not at home: what you will, to dismiss it. [Exit Malvolio.] Now,

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