Puslapio vaizdai
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I could not find him at the Elephant :

Yet there he was; and there I found this there's gold.

That he did range the town to seek me out.

His counsel now might do me golden service :
For though my soul disputes well with my


That this may be some error, but no madness,
Yet doth this accident and flood of fortune
So far exceed all instance, all discourse, t
That I am ready to distrust mine eyes,
And wrangle with my reason, that persuades
To any other trust, but that I am mad,
Or else the lady's mad; yet, if 'twere so,
She could not sway her house, command her

Take, and give back, affairs, and their despatch,
With such a smooth, discreet, and stable bear-
As, I perceive, she does: there's something in't,
That is deceivable. But here comes the lady.

Enter OLIVIA and a PRIEST.
Oli. Blame not this haste of mine if you mean

Now go with me, and with this holy man,
Into the chantry | by: there, before him,
And underneath that consecrated roof,
Plight me the full assurance of your faith;
That my most jealous and too doubtful soul
May live at peace: He shall conceal it,
Whiles you are willing it shall come to note;
What time we will our celebration keep
According to my birth.-What do you say?

Seb. I'll follow this good man, and go with


And, having sworn truth, ever will be true.
Oli. Then lead the way, good father;-And
heavens so shine,

That they may fairly note this act of mine!

Clo. Put your grace in your pocket, Sir, for this once, and let your flesh and blood obey it. Duke. Well, I will be so much a sinner to be a double-dealer; there's another.

Clo. Primo, secundo, tertio, is a good play; and the old saying is, the third pays for all: the me triplex, Sir, is a good tripping measure; or the bells of St. Bennet, Sir, may put you in mind; One, two, three.

Duke. Thou shalt not be the worse for me;

Clo. But that it would be double-dealing, Sir, I would you could make it another.

Duke. Oh! you give me ill counsel.

↑ Resson.


Fab. Now, as thou lovest me, let me see his


Clo. Good master Fabian, grant me another request.

Fab. Any thing.

Clo. Do not desire to see this letter.

1 Off. Orsino, this is that Antonio,

That took the Phoenix, and her fraught, from

And this is he, that did the Tiger board,
When your young nephew Titus lost his leg:
Here in the streets, desperate of shame and



SCENE I-A Street before OLIVIA's House. In private brabble did we apprehend him.
Vio. He did me kindness, Sir: drew on my
But in conclusion, put strange speech upon

I know not what 'twas, but distraction.

Duke. Notable pirate! thou salt-water thief! What foolish boldness brought thee to their

• Account. 1 Belief.

Little chapel.

Duke. You can fool no more money out of me at this throw if you will let your lady know, I am here to speak with her, and bring her along with you, it may awake my bounty



Clo. Marry, Sir, lullaby to your bounty, till I come again. I go, Sir; but I would not have you to think, that my desire of having is the sin of covetousness: but, as you say, Sir, let your bounty take a nap, I will awake it anon. [Exit CLOWN. Enter ANTONIO and OFFICERS.

Enter DUKE, VIOLA, and Attendants.
Duke. Belong you to the lady Olivia, friends?
Clo. Ay, Sir; we are some of her trappings.
Duke. I know thee well: How dost thou, my
good fellow?

Clo. Truly, Sir, the better for my foes, and the
worse for my friends.
Duke. Just the contrary; the better for thy

Fab. That is, to give a dog, and, in recom- Hast made thine enemies? peuse, desire my dog again.

Clo. No, Sir, the worse.
Duke. How can that be?

Clo. Marry, Sir, they praise me, and make an ass of me; now my foes tell me plainly I am an 238: so that by my foes, Sir, I profit in the knowledge of myself; and by my friends I am abused: so that, conciusions to be as kisses, if your four begatives make your two affirmatives, why, then the worse for my friends, and the better for my fues.



Duke. That face of his I do remember well;'
Yet when I saw it last, it was besmear'd
As black as Vulcan, in the smoke of war:
A bawbling vessel was he captain of,
For shallow draught, and bulk, unprizable ;
With which such scathful grapple did he make
With the most noble bottom of our fleet,
That very envy, and the tongue of loss,
Cried fame and honour on him.-What's the

Vio. Here comes the man, Sir, that did res

cue me.

parse, Which I had recommended to his use Duke. Why, this is excellent. Clo. By my troth, Sir, no; though it please Not half an hour before. Vio. How can this be? you to be one of my friends.

Duke. When came he to this town?

mercies, Whom thou in terms so bloody and so dear,

Ant. Orsino, noble Sir,

Be pleas'd that I shake off these names you
give me ;
Antonio never yet was thief or pirate,
Though I confess, on base and ground enough,
Orsino's enemy. A witchcraft drew me hither:
That most ungrateful boy there, by your side,
From the rude sea's enrag'd and foamy mouth
Did I redeem; a wreck past hope he was:
His life I gave him, and did thereto add
My love, without retention, or restraint
All his in dedication: for his sake,
Did I expose myself, pure for his love,
Into the danger of this adverse town;
Drew to defend him, when he was beset;
Where being apprehended, his false cunning,
(Not meaning to partake with me in danger,)
Taught him to face me out of his acquaintance,
And grew a twenty-years-removed thing,
While one would wink; denied me mine own

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Oli. Still so constant, lord.

Duke. What to perverseness? you uncivil lady, To whose ingrate and unauspicious altars My soul the faithfull'st offerings hath breath'd out, That e'er devotion tender'd! What shall I do? Oli. Even what it please my lord, that shall become him.

Duke. Why should I not, had I the heart to do it,

Like to the Egyptian thief, at point of death, † Kill what I love; a savage jealousy,

That sometime savours nohty ?-But hear me this:

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Oli. Alas, it is the baseness of thy fear, That makes thee strangle thy propriety : • Fear not, Cesario, take thy fortunes up; Be that thou know'st thou art, and then then art


Duke. Husband?

Oli. Ay, husband; Can he that deny ?
Duke. Her
nd, sirrah?
Vio. No, my lord, not 1.

• Dull, gross.

Thyamis, a native of Memphis. It was customary with these barbariaus, when in imminent danger, to Kill those whose company they wished in the other world.

As great as that thou fear'st,-0 father!

Re-enter Attendant and PRIEST. Father, I charge thee, by thy reverence, Here to unfold (though lately we intended To keep in darkness, what occasion now Reveals before 'tis ripe,) what thou dost know, Hath newly past between this youth and me.

Priest. A contract of eternal bond of love, Confirm'd by mutual joinder of your hands, Attested by the holy close of lips, Strengthen'd by interchangement of your rings; And all the ceremony of this compact Seal'd in my function, by my testimony: Since when, my watch hath told me, toward my

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not. [Going. Tio. Aud I, most jocund, apt, and willingly, To do you rest, a thousand deaths would die. [Following.

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Sir And. If a bloody coxcomb be a burt, you bave hurt me; I think, you set nothing by a bloody coxcomb.

Enter Sir TOBY BELCH, drunk, led by the


Here comes Sir Toby halting, you shall bear would have tickled you othergates; than be more: but if he had not been in drink, be


Duke. How now, gentlemen? how ist with you?

Sir To. That's all one; be has burt me, and there's the end on't.-Sot, did'st see Dick sargeon, sot?

Clo. O he's drunk, Sir Toby, an hour agone; his eyes were set at eight i'the morning.

Sir To. Then he's a rogue. After a passymeasure, or a pavin, § I hate a drunken rogüe

Oli. Away with him: Who bath made this bavoc with them?

Sir And. I'll help you, Sir Toby, because we'll be dress'd together.

Sir To. Will you help an ass-head, and a

• Disown thy property. † Skin. 1 Otherways The passamezzo was a favourite air and dance in Elizabeth's time.

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coxcomb, and a knave? a thin-faced knave, a guli?


Oli. Get him to bed, and let his hurt be look'd
[Exeunt CLOWN, Sir TCBY, and Sir AN-

Duke. Give me thy hand;

And let me see thee in thy woman's weeds.
Vio. The captain, that did bring me first on

Hath my maid's garments; he, upon some

Is now in durance; at Malvolio's suit,
A gentleman aud follower of my lady's.

Oli. He shall eularge him :-Fetch Malvolio
bither :-

And yet, alas, now I remember me,

Duke. One face, one voice, one habit, and They say, poor gentleman, he's much distract.


Seb. I am sorry, madam, I have hurt your

But had it been the brother of my blood,
I must have done no less, with wit and safety.
You throw a strange regard upon me, and
By that I do perceive it hath offended you;
Pardon me, sweet one, even for the vows
We made each other but so late ago.

two persons;

A natural perspective, that is, and is not.
Seb. Antonio, O my dear Antonio!

How have the hours rack'd and tortur'd me,
Since I have lost thee.

Vio. And all those sayings will I over


And all those swearings keep as true in soul,
As doth that orbed continent the file
That severs day from night.

Ant. Sebastian are you?

Seb. Fear'st thou that, Antonio?
Ant. How have you made division of


An apple, cleft in two, is not more twin
Than these two creatures. Which is Sebastian?

Clo. Truly, madam, he holds Belzebub at the stave's end, as well as a man in his case may your-do: he has here writ a letter to you, I should bave given it you to-day morning; but as a madman's epistles are no gospels, so it skills not much, when they are delivered.

Oli. Most wonderful!

Seb. Do I stand there? I never had a bro


Nor can there be that deity in my nature,
Of here and every where. I had a sister,
Whom the blind waves and surges have de-

vour'd :

Of charity, what kin are you to me?

[TO VIOLA. What countryman? what name? what paren


Vio. Of Messaline: Sebastian was my father;
Such a Sebastian was my brother too,
So went he suited to his watery tomb:
If spirits can assume both form and suit
You come to fright us.

Re-enter CLOWN, with a letter.

A most extracting frenzy of mine own
From my remembrance clearly banish'd his.-
How does he, sirrah?

Seb. A spirit I am, indeed;

But am in that dimension grossly clad,
Which from the womb I did participate.
Were you a woman, as the rest goes even,
I should my tears let fall upon your cheek,
And say, Thrice welcome, drowned Viola!

Vio. My father had a mole upon his brow.
Seb. And so bad mine.

Vio. And died that day when Viola from her


Oli. Open it, and read it.

Clo. Look then to be well edified, when the fool delivers the madman:-By the lord, madam.

Oti. How now! art thou mad!

Clo. No, madam, I do but read madness: an your ladyship will have it as it ought to be, you must allow vor.

+ Linders.

Oli. Pr'ythee, read i'thy right wits.

Clo. So I do, madonna; but to read his right wits, is to read thus: therefore perpend, † my princess, and give ear.

Oli. Read it, you sirrah.

[TO FABIAN. Fab. [Reads.] By the Lord, madum, you wrong me, and the world shall know it: though you have put me into dar ness, and given your drunken cousin rule over me, yet have I the benefit of my senses as well as your ladyship I have your own letter that induced me to the semblance I put on; with the which I doubt not but to do myself much right, or you much shame. Think of me as you please. I leave my duty a little unthought of, and speak out of my injury. The madly-us'd MALVOLIO. Oli. Did be write this? Clo. Ay, madam.

Duke. This savours not much of distraction. Oli. See him deliver'd, Fabian; bring him [Exit FABIAN. My lord, so please you, these things further thought on,


To think me as well a sister as a wife,

One day shall crown the alliance on't, so please

Had number'd thirteen years.

Seb. O that record is lively in my soul
He finished, indeed, his mortal act,
That day that made my sister thirteen years.

Vio. If nothing lets to make us happy both,
But this my masculine usurp'd attire,
Do not embrace me, till each circumstance
Of place, time, fortune, do cohere and jump,
That I am Viola: which to confirm,
I'll bring you to a captain in this town,
Where lie my maiden weeds; by whose gentle Here at my house, and at my proper cost.


Duke. Madam, I am most apt to embrace your offer.

Your master quits you: [To VIOLA.] and, for
your service done him,

So much against the mettle of your sex,
So far beneath your soft and tender breeding,
And since you call'd me master for so long,
Here is my hand; you shall from this time be
Your master's mistress.
Oli. A sister? you are she.


I was preserv'd, to serve this noble count:
All the occurrence of my fortune since
Hath been between this lady, and this lord.
Seb. So comes it, lady, you have been mis-


But nature to her bias drew in that.
You would have been contracted to a maid:
Nor are you therein, by my life deceiv'd,
You are betroth'd both to a maid and man.
Duke. Be not amaz'd; right noble is his

If this be so, as yet the glass seems true,
I shall have share in this most happy wreck:
Boy, thou hast said to me a thousand times,
Thou never should'st love woman like to me.

Out of charity tell me.

Re-enter FABIAN, with MALVOLIO.
Duke. Is this the madman?

Oli. Ay, my lord, this same :
How now, Malvolio?

Mal. Madam, you have done me wrong, Notorious wrong.

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Oli. Have 1, Malvolio? no.
Mal. Lady you have. Pray you, peruse that grea

You must not now deny it is your hand,
Write from it if you can, in hand, or phrase;
Or say, 'tis not your seal, nor your invention:
You can say none of this: Well grant it then,
And tell me in the modesty of honour,
Why you have given me such clear lights of
favour :

Bade me come smiling, and cross-garter'd to

To put on yellow stockings, and to frown
Upon Sir Toby, and the lighter⚫ people:
And, acting this in an obedient hope,
Why have you suffered me to be imprison'd,
Kept in a dark house, visited by the priest,
And made the most notorious geck, and gull,
That e'er invention play'd on? tell me why.

Oli. Alas! Malvolio, this is not my writing,
Though I confess, much like the character:
Bet, out of question, 'tis Maria's hand.
And now I do bethink me, it was she

First told me thou wast mad; then cam'st in

But, when we know the grounds and authors
of it,

Thou shalt be both the plaintiff and the judge
Of thine own cause.

upon one!

Fab. Good madam, hear me speak;
And let no quarrel, nor no brawl to come,
Taint the condition of this present hour.
Which I have wonder'd at. In hope it shall not,
Most freely I confess, myself and Toby
Set this device against Malvolio here,
Upon some stubborn and uncourteous parts
We had conceiv'd against him: Maria writ
The letter, at Sir Toby's great importance; t
In recompense whereof, he hath married her.
How with a sportful malice it was follow'd,
May rather pluck on laughter than revenge;
If that the injuries be justly weigh'd,
That have on both sides past.

Oli. Alas, poor fool! how have they baffled §

• Inferior. ↑ Fool.



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And in such forms which here were presuppos'd Clo.
Upon thee in the letter. Pr'ythee, be content:
This practice hath most shrewdly pass'd upon

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THE fable of this play, (written in 1598,) is taken from a novel of which Boccace is the original author; but it is more than probable that our poet read it in a book called The Palace of Pleasure; a collection of novels translated from different authors, by one William Painter, 1566, 4to. Shakspeare has only borrowed from the novel a few leading circumstances in the graver parts of the drama: the comic characters are entirely of his own formation: one of them, Parolles, a boaster and a coward, is the sheet-anchor of the piece. The plot is not sufficiently probable. Some of the scenes are forcibly written, whilst others are impoverished and uninteresting. The moral of the play may be correctly ascertained from Dr, Johnson's estimate of the character of Bertram: "I cannot reconcile my heart to Bertram; a man noble without generosity, and young without truth; who marries Helena as a coward, and leaves her as a profligate: when she is dead, by his unkindness, sneaks home to a second marriage, is accused by a woman whom he has wronged, defends himself by falsehood, and is dismissed to happiness."




BERTRAM, Count of Rousillon.
LAFEU, an old Lord.

PAROLLES, a follower of Bertram.
Several young French Lords, that serve with
Bertram in the Florentine war.
STEWARD, Servants to the Countess of Rou-


HELENA, a Gentlewoman protected by the

An Old Widow of Florence.
DIANA, Daughter to the Widow.
VIOLENTA, Neighbours and Friends to the


SCENE 1.-Rousillon.-A Room in the
Countess' Palace.
HELENA, and LAFEU, in mourning.
Count. In delivering my son from me, I bury a
second husband.

Ber. And I, in going, madam, weep o'er my father's death anew: but I must attend his majesty's command, to whom I am now in ward,⚫ evermore in subjection.

Luf. You shall find of the king a husband, madam ;-you, Sir, a father: He that so generally is at all times good, must of necessity hold his virtue to you; whose worthiness would stir it up where it wanted, rather than lack it where there is such abundance.

Lords, attending on the King; Officers, Soldiers, &c. French and Florentine.

SCENE-Partly in France, and partly in Tuscany.

Count. What hope is there of his majesty's amendment ?

skill was almost as great as his honesty; had it stretched so far, it would have made nature immortal, and death should have play for lack of work. 'Would, for the king's sake, he were living! I think, would be the death of the king's disease.

Laf. He hath abandoned his physicians, madam; under whose practices he hath persecuted time with hope; and finds no other advantage in the process but only the losing of hope by


Count. This young gentlewoman had a father, (Oh ! that had!t how sad a passage 'tis !) whose

• The heirs of great fortunes were always the king's


Lay. How called you the man you speak of, madam ?

Count. He was famous, Sir, in his profession, and it was his great right to be so: Gerard de Narbon.

Laf. He was excellent, indeed, madam; the king very lately spoke of him admiringly, and mourningly: he was skilful enough to have lived still, if knowledge could be set up against mortality.

Ber. What is it, my good lord, the king languishes of?

Laf. A fistula, my lord.

Ber. I heard not of it before.

Laf. I would, it were not notorions.-Was this gentlewoman the daughter of Gerard de Narbon ?

+ The countess recollects her own loss of a husband, and observes how heavily had passes through her mind.

Count. His sole child, my lord: and bequeathed to my overlooking. I have those hopes of her good, that her education promises: her dispositions she inherits, which makes fair gifts fairer : for where an unclean mind carries virtuous qualities, there commendations with pity, they are virtues and traitors too; in


• Qualities of good breeding and erudition.

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