Front matter (continued 16)

Exeunt.

Enter Hellen, and Widdow.

Hel. If you misdoubt me that I am not shee, I know not how I shall assure you further, But I shall loose the grounds I worke vpon

Wid. Though my estate be falne, I was well borne, Nothing acquainted with these businesses, And would not put my reputation now In any staining act

Hel. Nor would I wish you. First giue me trust, the Count he is my husband, And what to your sworne counsaile I haue spoken, Is so from word to word: and then you cannot By the good ayde that I of you shall borrow, Erre in bestowing it

Wid. I should beleeue you, For you haue shew'd me that which well approues Y'are great in fortune

Hel. Take this purse of Gold, And let me buy your friendly helpe thus farre, Which I will ouer-pay, and pay againe When I haue found it. The Count he woes your daughter, Layes downe his wanton siedge before her beautie, Resolue to carrie her: let her in fine consent As wee'l direct her how 'tis best to beare it: Now his important blood will naught denie, That shee'l demand: a ring the Countie weares, That downward hath succeeded in his house From sonne to sonne, some foure or fiue discents, Since the first father wore it. This Ring he holds In most rich choice: yet in his idle fire, To buy his will, it would not seeme too deere, How ere repented after

Wid. Now I see the bottome of your purpose

Hel. You see it lawfull then, it is no more, But that your daughter ere she seemes as wonne, Desires this Ring; appoints him an encounter; In fine, deliuers me to fill the time, Her selfe most chastly absent: after To marry her, Ile adde three thousand Crownes To what is past already

Wid. I haue yeelded: Instruct my daughter how she shall perseuer, That time and place with this deceite so lawfull May proue coherent. Euery night he comes With Musickes of all sorts, and songs compos'd To her vnworthinesse: It nothing steeds vs To chide him from our eeues, for he persists As if his life lay on't

Hel. Why then to night Let vs assay our plot, which if it speed, Is wicked meaning in a lawfull deede; And lawfull meaning in a lawfull act, Where both not sinne, and yet a sinfull fact. But let's about it.

Actus Quartus.

Enter one of the Frenchmen, with fiue or sixe other souldiers in ambush.

Lord E. He can come no other way but by this hedge corner: when you sallie vpon him, speake what terrible Language you will: though you vnderstand it not your selues, no matter: for we must not seeme to vnderstand him, vnlesse some one among vs, whom wee must produce for an Interpreter

1.Sol. Good Captaine, let me be th' Interpreter

Lor.E. Art not acquainted with him? knowes he not thy voice? 1.Sol. No sir I warrant you

Lo.E. But what linsie wolsy hast thou to speake to vs againe

1.Sol. E'n such as you speake to me

Lo.E. He must thinke vs some band of strangers, i'th aduersaries entertainment. Now he hath a smacke of all neighbouring Languages: therefore we must euery one be a man of his owne fancie, not to know what we speak one to another: so we seeme to know, is to know straight our purpose: Choughs language, gabble enough, and good enough. As for you interpreter, you must seeme very politicke. But couch hoa, heere hee comes, to beguile two houres in a sleepe, and then to returne & swear the lies he forges. Enter Parrolles.

Par. Ten a clocke: Within these three houres 'twill be time enough to goe home. What shall I say I haue done? It must bee a very plausiue inuention that carries it. They beginne to smoake mee, and disgraces haue of late, knock'd too often at my doore: I finde my tongue is too foole-hardie, but my heart hath the feare of Mars before it, and of his creatures, not daring the reports of my tongue

Lo.E. This is the first truth that ere thine own tongue was guiltie of

Par. What the diuell should moue mee to vndertake the recouerie of this drumme, being not ignorant of the impossibility, and knowing I had no such purpose? I must giue my selfe some hurts, and say I got them in exploit: yet slight ones will not carrie it. They will say, came you off with so little? And great ones I dare not giue, wherefore what's the instance. Tongue, I must put you into a Butter-womans mouth, and buy my selfe another of Baiazeths Mule, if you prattle mee into these perilles

Lo.E. Is it possible he should know what hee is, and be that he is

Par. I would the cutting of my garments wold serue the turne, or the breaking of my Spanish sword

Lo.E. We cannot affoord you so

Par. Or the baring of my beard, and to say it was in stratagem

Lo.E. 'Twould not do

Par. Or to drowne my cloathes, and say I was stript

Lo.E. Hardly serue

Par. Though I swore I leapt from the window of the Citadell

Lo.E. How deepe? Par. Thirty fadome

Lo.E. Three great oathes would scarse make that be beleeued

Par. I would I had any drumme of the enemies, I would sweare I recouer'd it

Lo.E. You shall heare one anon

Par. A drumme now of the enemies.

Alarum within.

Lo.E. Throca movousus, cargo, cargo, cargo

All. Cargo, cargo, cargo, villianda par corbo, cargo

Par. O ransome, ransome, Do not hide mine eyes

Inter. Boskos thromuldo boskos

Par. I know you are the Muskos Regiment, And I shall loose my life for want of language. If there be heere German or Dane, Low Dutch, Italian, or French, let him speake to me, Ile discouer that, which shal vndo the Florentine

Int. Boskos vauvado, I vnderstand thee, & can speake thy tongue: Kerelybonto sir, betake thee to thy faith, for seuenteene ponyards are at thy bosome

Par. Oh

Inter. Oh pray, pray, pray, Manka reuania dulche

Lo.E. Oscorbidulchos voliuorco

Int. The Generall is content to spare thee yet, And hoodwinkt as thou art, will leade thee on To gather from thee. Haply thou mayst informe Something to saue thy life

Par. O let me liue, And all the secrets of our campe Ile shew, Their force, their purposes: Nay, Ile speake that, Which you will wonder at

Inter. But wilt thou faithfully? Par. If I do not, damne me

Inter. Acordo linta. Come on, thou are granted space.

Exit

A short Alarum within.

L.E. Go tell the Count Rossillion and my brother, We haue caught the woodcocke, and will keepe him mufled Till we do heare from them

Sol. Captaine I will

L.E. A will betray vs all vnto our selues, Informe on that

Sol. So I will sir

L.E. Till then Ile keepe him darke and safely lockt.

Exit

Enter Bertram, and the Maide called Diana.

Ber. They told me that your name was Fontybell

Dia. No my good Lord, Diana

Ber. Titled Goddesse, And worth it with addition: but faire soule, In your fine frame hath loue no qualitie? If the quicke fire of youth light not your minde, You are no Maiden but a monument When you are dead you should be such a one As you are now: for you are cold and sterne, And now you should be as your mother was When your sweet selfe was got

Dia. She then was honest

Ber. So should you be

Dia. No: My mother did but dutie, such (my Lord) As you owe to your wife

Ber. No more a'that: I prethee do not striue against my vowes: I was compell'd to her, but I loue thee By loues owne sweet constraint, and will for euer Do thee all rights of seruice

Dia. I so you serue vs Till we serue you: But when you haue our Roses, You barely leaue our thornes to pricke our selues, And mocke vs with our barenesse

Ber. How haue I sworne

Dia. Tis not the many oathes that makes the truth, But the plaine single vow, that is vow'd true: What is not holie, that we sweare not by, But take the high'st to witnesse: then pray you tell me, If I should sweare by Ioues great attributes, I lou'd you deerely, would you beleeue my oathes, When I did loue you ill? This ha's no holding To sweare by him whom I protest to loue That I will worke against him. Therefore your oathes Are words and poore conditions, but vnseal'd At lest in my opinion

Ber. Change it, change it: Be not so holy cruell: Loue is holie, And my integritie ne're knew the crafts That you do charge men with: Stand no more off, But giue thy selfe vnto my sicke desires, Who then recouers. Say thou art mine, and euer My loue as it beginnes, shall so perseuer

Dia. I see that men make rope's in such a scarre, That wee'l forsake our selues. Giue me that Ring

Ber. Ile lend it thee my deere; but haue no power To giue it from me

Dia. Will you not my Lord? Ber. It is an honour longing to our house, Bequeathed downe from manie Ancestors, Which were the greatest obloquie i'th world, In me to loose

Dian. Mine Honors such a Ring, My chastities the Iewell of our house, Bequeathed downe from many Ancestors, Which were the greatest obloquie i'th world, In mee to loose. Thus your owne proper wisedome Brings in the Champion honor on my part, Against your vaine assault

Ber. Heere, take my Ring, My house, mine honor, yea my life be thine, And Ile be bid by thee

Dia. When midnight comes, knocke at my chamber window: Ile order take, my mother shall not heare. Now will I charge you in the band of truth, When you haue conquer'd my yet maiden-bed, Remaine there but an houre, nor speake to mee: My reasons are most strong, and you shall know them, When backe againe this Ring shall be deliuer'd: And on your finger in the night, Ile put Another Ring, that what in time proceeds, May token to the future, our past deeds. Adieu till then, then faile not: you haue wonne A wife of me, though there my hope be done

Ber. A heauen on earth I haue won by wooing thee

Di. For which, liue long to thank both heauen & me, You may so in the end. My mother told me iust how he would woo, As if she sate in's heart. She sayes, all men Haue the like oathes: He had sworne to marrie me When his wife's dead: therfore Ile lye with him When I am buried. Since Frenchmen are so braide, Marry that will, I liue and die a Maid: Onely in this disguise, I think't no sinne, To cosen him that would vniustly winne.

Exit

Enter the two French Captaines, and some two or three Souldiours.

Cap.G. You haue not giuen him his mothers letter

Cap.E. I haue deliu'red it an houre since, there is som thing in't that stings his nature: for on the reading it, he chang'd almost into another man

Cap.G. He has much worthy blame laid vpon him, for shaking off so good a wife, and so sweet a Lady

Cap.E. Especially, hee hath incurred the euerlasting displeasure of the King, who had euen tun'd his bounty to sing happinesse to him. I will tell you a thing, but you shall let it dwell darkly with you

Cap.G. When you haue spoken it 'tis dead, and I am the graue of it

Cap.E. Hee hath peruerted a young Gentlewoman heere in Florence, of a most chaste renown, & this night he fleshes his will in the spoyle of her honour: hee hath giuen her his monumentall Ring, and thinkes himselfe made in the vnchaste composition

Cap.G. Now God delay our rebellion as we are our selues, what things are we

Cap.E. Meerely our owne traitours. And as in the common course of all treasons, we still see them reueale themselues, till they attaine to their abhorr'd ends: so he that in this action contriues against his owne Nobility in his proper streame, ore-flowes himselfe

Cap.G. Is it not meant damnable in vs, to be Trumpeters of our vnlawfull intents? We shall not then haue his company to night? Cap.E. Not till after midnight: for hee is dieted to his houre

Cap.G. That approaches apace: I would gladly haue him see his company anathomiz'd, that hee might take a measure of his owne iudgements, wherein so curiously he had set this counterfeit

Cap.E. We will not meddle with him till he come; for his presence must be the whip of the other

Cap.G. In the meane time, what heare you of these Warres? Cap.E. I heare there is an ouerture of peace

Cap.G. Nay, I assure you a peace concluded

Cap.E. What will Count Rossillion do then? Will he trauaile higher, or returne againe into France? Cap.G. I perceiue by this demand, you are not altogether of his councell

Cap.E. Let it be forbid sir, so should I bee a great deale of his act

Cap.G. Sir, his wife some two months since fledde from his house, her pretence is a pilgrimage to Saint Iaques le grand; which holy vndertaking, with most austere sanctimonie she accomplisht: and there residing, the tendernesse of her Nature, became as a prey to her greefe: in fine, made a groane of her last breath, & now she sings in heauen

Cap.E. How is this iustified? Cap.G. The stronger part of it by her owne Letters, which makes her storie true, euen to the poynt of her death: her death it selfe, which could not be her office to say, is come: was faithfully confirm'd by the Rector of the place

Cap.E. Hath the Count all this intelligence? Cap.G. I, and the particular confirmations, point from point, to the full arming of the veritie

Cap.E. I am heartily sorrie that hee'l bee gladde of this

Cap.G. How mightily sometimes, we make vs comforts of our losses

Cap.E. And how mightily some other times, wee drowne our gaine in teares, the great dignitie that his valour hath here acquir'd for him, shall at home be encountred with a shame as ample

Cap.G. The webbe of our life, is of a mingled yarne, good and ill together: our vertues would bee proud, if our faults whipt them not, and our crimes would dispaire if they were not cherish'd by our vertues. Enter a Messenger.

How now? Where's your master? Ser. He met the Duke in the street sir, of whom hee hath taken a solemne leaue: his Lordshippe will next morning for France. The Duke hath offered him Letters of commendations to the King

Cap.E. They shall bee no more then needfull there, if they were more then they can commend. Enter Count Rossillion.

Ber. They cannot be too sweete for the Kings tartnesse, heere's his Lordship now. How now my Lord, i'st not after midnight? Ber. I haue to night dispatch'd sixteene businesses, a moneths length a peece, by an abstract of successe: I haue congied with the Duke, done my adieu with his neerest; buried a wife, mourn'd for her, writ to my Ladie mother, I am returning, entertain'd my Conuoy, & betweene these maine parcels of dispatch, affected many nicer needs: the last was the greatest, but that I haue not ended yet

Cap.E. If the businesse bee of any difficulty, and this morning your departure hence, it requires hast of your Lordship

Ber. I meane the businesse is not ended, as fearing to heare of it hereafter: but shall we haue this dialogue betweene the Foole and the Soldiour. Come, bring forth this counterfet module, ha's deceiu'd mee, like a double-meaning Prophesier

Cap.E. Bring him forth, ha's sate i'th stockes all night poore gallant knaue

Ber. No matter, his heeles haue deseru'd it, in vsurping his spurres so long. How does he carry himselfe? Cap.E. I haue told your Lordship alreadie: The stockes carrie him. But to answer you as you would be vnderstood, hee weepes like a wench that had shed her milke, he hath confest himselfe to Morgan, whom hee supposes to be a Friar, fro[m] the time of his remembrance to this very instant disaster of his setting i'th stockes: and what thinke you he hath confest? Ber. Nothing of me, ha's a? Cap.E. His confession is taken, and it shall bee read to his face, if your Lordshippe be in't, as I beleeue you are, you must haue the patience to heare it. Enter Parolles with his Interpreter.

Ber. A plague vpon him, muffeld; he can say nothing of me: hush, hush

Cap.G. Hoodman comes: Portotartarossa

Inter. He calles for the tortures, what will you say without em

Par. I will confesse what I know without constraint, If ye pinch me like a Pasty, I can say no more

Int. Bosko Chimurcho

Cap. Boblibindo chicurmurco

Int. You are a mercifull Generall: Our Generall bids you answer to what I shall aske you out of a Note

Par. And truly, as I hope to liue

Int. First demand of him, how many horse the Duke is strong. What say you to that? Par. Fiue or sixe thousand, but very weake and vnseruiceable: the troopes are all scattered, and the Commanders verie poore rogues, vpon my reputation and credit, and as I hope to liue

Int. Shall I set downe your answer so? Par. Do, Ile take the Sacrament on't, how & which way you will: all's one to him

Ber. What a past-sauing slaue is this? Cap.G. Y'are deceiu'd my Lord, this is Mounsieur Parrolles the gallant militarist, that was his owne phrase that had the whole theoricke of warre in the knot of his scarfe, and the practise in the chape of his dagger

Cap.E. I will neuer trust a man againe, for keeping his sword cleane, nor beleeue he can haue euerie thing in him, by wearing his apparrell neatly

Int. Well, that's set downe

Par. Fiue or six thousand horse I sed, I will say true, or thereabouts set downe, for Ile speake truth

Cap.G. He's very neere the truth in this

Ber. But I con him no thankes for't in the nature he deliuers it

Par. Poore rogues, I pray you say

Int. Well, that's set downe

Par. I humbly thanke you sir, a truth's a truth, the Rogues are maruailous poore

Interp. Demaund of him of what strength they are a foot. What say you to that? Par. By my troth sir, if I were to liue this present houre, I will tell true. Let me see, Spurio a hundred & fiftie, Sebastian so many, Corambus so many, Iaques so many: Guiltian, Cosmo, Lodowicke, and Gratij, two hundred fiftie each: Mine owne Company, Chitopher, Vaumond, Bentij, two hundred fiftie each: so that the muster file, rotten and sound, vppon my life amounts not to fifteene thousand pole, halfe of the which, dare not shake the snow from off their Cassockes, least they shake themselues to peeces

Ber. What shall be done to him? Cap.G. Nothing, but let him haue thankes. Demand of him my condition: and what credite I haue with the Duke

Int. Well that's set downe: you shall demaund of him, whether one Captaine Dumaine bee i'th Campe, a Frenchman: what his reputation is with the Duke, what his valour, honestie, and expertnesse in warres: or whether he thinkes it were not possible with well-waighing summes of gold to corrupt him to a reuolt. What say you to this? What do you know of it? Par. I beseech you let me answer to the particular of the intergatories. Demand them singly

Int. Do you know this Captaine Dumaine? Par. I know him, a was a Botchers Prentize in Paris, from whence he was whipt for getting the Shrieues fool with childe, a dumbe innocent that could not say him nay

Ber. Nay, by your leaue hold your hands, though I know his braines are forfeite to the next tile that fals

Int. Well, is this Captaine in the Duke of Florences campe? Par. Vpon my knowledge he is, and lowsie

Cap.G. Nay looke not so vpon me: we shall heare of your Lord anon

Int. What is his reputation with the Duke? Par. The Duke knowes him for no other, but a poore Officer of mine, and writ to mee this other day, to turne him out a'th band. I thinke I haue his Letter in my pocket

Int. Marry we'll search

Par. In good sadnesse I do not know, either it is there, or it is vpon a file with the Dukes other Letters, in my Tent

Int. Heere 'tis, heere's a paper, shall I reade it to you? Par. I do not know if it be it or no

Ber. Our Interpreter do's it well

Cap.G. Excellently

Int. Dian, the Counts a foole, and full of gold

Par. That is not the Dukes letter sir: that is an aduertisement to a proper maide in Florence, one Diana, to take heede of the allurement of one Count Rossillion, a foolish idle boy: but for all that very ruttish. I pray you sir put it vp againe

Int. Nay, Ile reade it first by your fauour

Par. My meaning in't I protest was very honest in the behalfe of the maid: for I knew the young Count to be a dangerous and lasciuious boy, who is a whale to Virginity, and deuours vp all the fry it finds

Ber. Damnable both-sides rogue

Int.

Let.

When he sweares oathes, bid him drop gold, and take it: After he scores, he neuer payes the score: Halfe won is match well made, match and well make it, He nere payes after-debts, take it before, And say a souldier (Dian) told thee this: Men are to mell with, boyes are not to kis. For count of this, the Counts a Foole I know it, Who payes before, but not when he does owe it. Thine as he vow'd to thee in thine eare, Parolles

Ber. He shall be whipt through the Armie with this rime in's forehead

Cap.E. This is your deuoted friend sir, the manifold Linguist, and the army-potent souldier

Ber. I could endure any thing before but a Cat, and now he's a Cat to me

Int. I perceiue sir by your Generals lookes, wee shall be faine to hang you

Par. My life sir in any case: Not that I am afraide to dye, but that my offences beeing many, I would repent out the remainder of Nature. Let me liue sir in a dungeon, i'th stockes, or any where, so I may liue

Int. Wee'le see what may bee done, so you confesse freely: therefore once more to this Captaine Dumaine: you haue answer'd to his reputation with the Duke, and to his valour. What is his honestie? Par. He will steale sir an Egge out of a Cloister: for rapes and rauishments he paralels Nessus. Hee professes not keeping of oaths, in breaking em he is stronger then Hercules. He will lye sir, with such volubilitie, that you would thinke truth were a foole: drunkennesse is his best vertue, for he will be swine-drunke, and in his sleepe he does little harme, saue to his bed-cloathes about him: but they know his conditions, and lay him in straw. I haue but little more to say sir of his honesty, he ha's euerie thing that an honest man should not haue; what an honest man should haue, he has nothing

Cap.G. I begin to loue him for this

Ber. For this description of thine honestie? A pox vpon him for me, he's more and more a Cat

Int. What say you to his expertnesse in warre? Par. Faith sir, ha's led the drumme before the English Tragedians: to belye him I will not, and more of his souldiership I know not, except in that Country, he had the honour to be the Officer at a place there called Mile-end, to instruct for the doubling of files. I would doe the man what honour I can, but of this I am not certaine

Cap.G. He hath out-villain'd villanie so farre, that the raritie redeemes him

Ber. A pox on him, he's a Cat still

Int. His qualities being at this poore price, I neede not to aske you, if Gold will corrupt him to reuolt

Par. Sir, for a Cardceue he will sell the fee-simple of his saluation, the inheritance of it, and cut th' intaile from all remainders, and a perpetuall succession for it perpetually

Int. What's his Brother, the other Captain Dumain? Cap.E. Why do's he aske him of me? Int. What's he? Par. E'ne a Crow a'th same nest: not altogether so great as the first in goodnesse, but greater a great deale in euill. He excels his Brother for a coward, yet his Brother is reputed one of the best that is. In a retreate hee outrunnes any Lackey; marrie in comming on, hee ha's the Crampe

Int. If your life be saued, will you vndertake to betray the Florentine

Par. I, and the Captaine of his horse, Count Rossillion

Int. Ile whisper with the Generall, and knowe his pleasure

Par. Ile no more drumming, a plague of all drummes, onely to seeme to deserue well, and to beguile the supposition of that lasciuious yong boy the Count, haue I run into this danger: yet who would haue suspected an ambush where I was taken? Int. There is no remedy sir, but you must dye: the Generall sayes, you that haue so traitorously discouerd the secrets of your army, and made such pestifferous reports of men very nobly held, can serue the world for no honest vse: therefore you must dye. Come headesman, off with his head

Par. O Lord sir let me liue, or let me see my death

Int. That shall you, and take your leaue of all your friends: So, looke about you, know you any heere? Count. Good morrow noble Captaine

Lo.E. God blesse you Captaine Parolles

Cap.G. God saue you noble Captaine

Lo.E. Captain, what greeting will you to my Lord Lafew? I am for France

Cap.G. Good Captaine will you giue me a Copy of the sonnet you writ to Diana in behalfe of the Count Rossillion, and I were not a verie Coward, I'de compell it of you, but far you well.

Exeunt.

Int. You are vndone Captaine all but your scarfe, that has a knot on't yet

Par. Who cannot be crush'd with a plot? Inter. If you could finde out a Countrie where but women were that had receiued so much shame, you might begin an impudent Nation. Fare yee well sir, I am for France too, we shall speake of you there.

Exit

Par. Yet am I thankfull: if my heart were great 'Twould burst at this: Captaine Ile be no more, But I will eate, and drinke, and sleepe as soft As Captaine shall. Simply the thing I am Shall make me liue: who knowes himselfe a braggart Let him feare this; for it will come to passe, That euery braggart shall be found an Asse. Rust sword, coole blushes, and Parrolles liue Safest in shame: being fool'd, by fool'rie thriue; There's place and meanes for euery man aliue. Ile after them. Enter.

Enter Hellen, Widdow, and Diana.

Hel. That you may well perceiue I haue not wrong'd you, One of the greatest in the Christian world Shall be my suretie: for whose throne 'tis needfull Ere I can perfect mine intents, to kneele. Time was, I did him a desired office Deere almost as his life, which gratitude Through flintie Tartars bosome would peepe forth, And answer thankes. I duly am inform'd, His grace is at Marcellae, to which place We haue conuenient conuoy: you must know I am supposed dead, the Army breaking, My husband hies him home, where heauen ayding, And by the leaue of my good Lord the King, Wee'l be before our welcome

Wid. Gentle Madam, You neuer had a seruant to whose trust Your busines was more welcome

Hel. Nor your Mistris Euer a friend, whose thoughts more truly labour To recompence your loue: Doubt not but heauen Hath brought me vp to be your daughters dower, As it hath fated her to be my motiue And helper to a husband. But O strange men, That can such sweet vse make of what they hate, When sawcie trusting of the cosin'd thoughts Defiles the pitchy night, so lust doth play With what it loathes, for that which is away, But more of this heereafter: you Diana, Vnder my poore instructions yet must suffer Something in my behalfe

Dia. Let death and honestie Go with your impositions, I am yours Vpon your will to suffer

Hel. Yet I pray you: But with the word the time will bring on summer, When Briars shall haue leaues as well as thornes, And be as sweet as sharpe: we must away, Our Wagon is prepar'd, and time reuiues vs, All's well that ends well, still the fines the Crowne; What ere the course, the end is the renowne.

Exeunt.

Enter Clowne, old Lady, and Lafew.

Laf. No, no, no, your sonne was misled with a snipt taffata fellow there, whose villanous saffron wold haue made all the vnbak'd and dowy youth of a nation in his colour: your daughter-in-law had beene aliue at this houre, and your sonne heere at home, more aduanc'd by the King, then by that red-tail'd humble Bee I speak of

La. I would I had not knowne him, it was the death of the most vertuous gentlewoman, that euer Nature had praise for creating. If she had pertaken of my flesh and cost mee the deerest groanes of a mother, I could not haue owed her a more rooted loue

Laf. Twas a good Lady, 'twas a good Lady. Wee may picke a thousand sallets ere wee light on such another hearbe

Clo. Indeed sir she was the sweete Margerom of the sallet, or rather the hearbe of grace

Laf. They are not hearbes you knaue, they are nose-hearbes

Clowne. I am no great Nabuchadnezar sir, I haue not much skill in grace

Laf. Whether doest thou professe thy selfe, a knaue or a foole? Clo. A foole sir at a womans seruice, and a knaue at a mans

Laf. Your distinction

Clo. I would cousen the man of his wife, and do his seruice

Laf. So you were a knaue at his seruice indeed

Clo. And I would giue his wife my bauble sir to doe her seruice

Laf. I will subscribe for thee, thou art both knaue and foole

Clo. At your seruice

Laf. No, no, no

Clo. Why sir, if I cannot serue you, I can serue as great a prince as you are

Laf. Whose that, a Frenchman? Clo. Faith sir a has an English maine, but his fisnomie is more hotter in France then there

Laf. What prince is that? Clo. The blacke prince sir, alias the prince of darkenesse, alias the diuell

Laf. Hold thee there's my purse, I giue thee not this to suggest thee from thy master thou talk'st off, serue him still

Clo. I am a woodland fellow sir, that alwaies loued a great fire, and the master I speak of euer keeps a good fire, but sure he is the Prince of the world, let his Nobilitie remaine in's Court. I am for the house with the narrow gate, which I take to be too little for pompe to enter: some that humble themselues may, but the manie will be too chill and tender, and theyle bee for the flowrie way that leads to the broad gate, and the great fire

Laf. Go thy waies, I begin to bee a wearie of thee, and I tell thee so before, because I would not fall out with thee. Go thy wayes, let my horses be wel look'd too, without any trickes

Clo. If I put any trickes vpon em sir, they shall bee Iades trickes, which are their owne right by the law of Nature.

Exit

Laf. A shrewd knaue and an vnhappie

Lady. So a is. My Lord that's gone made himselfe much sport out of him, by his authoritie hee remaines heere, which he thinkes is a pattent for his sawcinesse, and indeede he has no pace, but runnes where he will

Laf. I like him well, 'tis not amisse: and I was about to tell you, since I heard of the good Ladies death, and that my Lord your sonne was vpon his returne home. I moued the King my master to speake in the behalfe of my daughter, which in the minoritie of them both, his Maiestie out of a selfe gracious remembrance did first propose, his Highnesse hath promis'd me to doe it, and to stoppe vp the displeasure he hath conceiued against your sonne, there is no fitter matter. How do's your Ladyship like it? La. With verie much content my Lord, and I wish it happily effected

Laf. His Highnesse comes post from Marcellus, of as able bodie as when he number'd thirty, a will be heere to morrow, or I am deceiu'd by him that in such intelligence hath seldome fail'd

La. It reioyces me, that I hope I shall see him ere I die. I haue letters that my sonne will be heere to night: I shall beseech your Lordship to remaine with mee, till they meete together

Laf. Madam, I was thinking with what manners I might safely be admitted

Lad. You neede but pleade your honourable priuiledge

Laf. Ladie, of that I haue made a bold charter, but I thanke my God, it holds yet. Enter Clowne.

Clo. O Madam, yonders my Lord your sonne with a patch of veluet on's face, whether there bee a scar vnder't or no, the Veluet knowes, but 'tis a goodly patch of Veluet, his left cheeke is a cheeke of two pile and a halfe, but his right cheeke is worne bare

Laf. A scarre nobly got, Or a noble scarre, is a good liu'rie of honor, So belike is that

Clo. But it is your carbinado'd face

Laf. Let vs go see your sonne I pray you, I long to talke With the yong noble souldier

Clowne. 'Faith there's a dozen of em, with delicate fine hats, and most courteous feathers, which bow the head, and nod at euerie man.

Exeunt.

Actus Quintus.

Enter Hellen, Widdow, and Diana, with two Attendants.

Hel. But this exceeding posting day and night, Must wear your spirits low, we cannot helpe it: But since you haue made the daies and nights as one, To weare your gentle limbes in my affayres, Be bold you do so grow in my requitall, As nothing can vnroote you. In happie time, Enter a gentle Astringer.

This man may helpe me to his Maiesties eare, If he would spend his power. God saue you sir

Gent. And you

Hel. Sir, I haue seene you in the Court of France

Gent. I haue beene sometimes there

Hel. I do presume sir, that you are not falne From the report that goes vpon your goodnesse, And therefore goaded with most sharpe occasions, Which lay nice manners by, I put you to The vse of your owne vertues, for the which I shall continue thankefull

Gent. What's your will? Hel. That it will please you To giue this poore petition to the King, And ayde me with that store of power you haue To come into his presence

Gen. The Kings not heere

Hel. Not heere sir? Gen. Not indeed, He hence remou'd last night, and with more hast Then is his vse

Wid. Lord how we loose our paines

Hel. All's well that ends well yet, Though time seeme so aduerse, and meanes vnfit: I do beseech you, whither is he gone? Gent. Marrie as I take it to Rossillion, Whither I am going

Hel. I do beseech you sir, Since you are like to see the King before me, Commend the paper to his gracious hand, Which I presume shall render you no blame, But rather make you thanke your paines for it, I will come after you with what good speede Our meanes will make vs meanes

Gent. This Ile do for you

Hel. And you shall finde your selfe to be well thankt what e're falles more. We must to horse againe, Go, go, prouide. Enter Clowne and Parrolles.

Par. Good Mr Lauatch giue my Lord Lafew this letter, I haue ere now sir beene better knowne to you, when I haue held familiaritie with fresher cloathes: but I am now sir muddied in fortunes mood, and smell somewhat strong of her strong displeasure

Clo. Truely, Fortunes displeasure is but sluttish if it smell so strongly as thou speak'st of: I will hencefoorth eate no Fish of Fortunes butt'ring. Prethee alow the winde

Par. Nay you neede not to stop your nose sir: I spake but by a Metaphor

Clo. Indeed sir, if your Metaphor stinke, I will stop my nose, or against any mans Metaphor. Prethe get thee further

Par. Pray you sir deliuer me this paper

Clo. Foh, prethee stand away: a paper from fortunes close-stoole, to giue to a Nobleman. Looke heere he comes himselfe. Enter Lafew.

Clo. Heere is a purre of Fortunes sir, or of Fortunes Cat, but not a Muscat, that ha's falne into the vncleane fish-pond of her displeasure, and as he sayes is muddied withall. Pray you sir, vse the Carpe as you may, for he lookes like a poore decayed, ingenious, foolish, rascally knaue. I doe pittie his distresse in my smiles of comfort, and leaue him to your Lordship

Par. My Lord I am a man whom fortune hath cruelly scratch'd

Laf. And what would you haue me to doe? 'Tis too late to paire her nailes now. Wherein haue you played the knaue with fortune that she should scratch you, who of her selfe is a good Lady, and would not haue knaues thriue long vnder? There's a Cardecue for you: Let the Iustices make you and fortune friends; I am for other businesse

Par. I beseech your honour to heare mee one single word, Laf. you begge a single peny more: Come you shall ha't, saue your word

Par. My name my good Lord is Parrolles

Laf. You begge more then word then. Cox my passion, giue me your hand: How does your drumme? Par. O my good Lord, you were the first that found mee

Laf. Was I insooth? And I was the first that lost thee

Par. It lies in you my Lord to bring me in some grace for you did bring me out

Laf. Out vpon thee knaue, doest thou put vpon mee at once both the office of God and the diuel: one brings thee in grace, and the other brings thee out. The Kings comming I know by his Trumpets. Sirrah, inquire further after me, I had talke of you last night, though you are a foole and a knaue, you shall eate, go too, follow

Par. I praise God for you.

Flourish. Enter King, old Lady, Lafew, the two French Lords, with attendants.

Kin. We lost a Iewell of her, and our esteeme Was made much poorer by it: but your sonne, As mad in folly, lack'd the sence to know Her estimation home

Old La. 'Tis past my Liege, And I beseech your Maiestie to make it Naturall rebellion, done i'th blade of youth, When oyle and fire, too strong for reasons force, Ore-beares it, and burnes on

Kin. My honour'd Lady, I haue forgiuen and forgotten all, Though my reuenges were high bent vpon him, And watch'd the time to shoote

Laf. This I must say, But first I begge my pardon: the yong Lord Did to his Maiesty, his Mother, and his Ladie, Offence of mighty note; but to himselfe The greatest wrong of all. He lost a wife, Whose beauty did astonish the suruey Of richest eies: whose words all eares tooke captiue, Whose deere perfection, hearts that scorn'd to serue, Humbly call'd Mistris

Kin. Praising what is lost, Makes the remembrance deere. Well, call him hither, We are reconcil'd, and the first view shall kill All repetition: Let him not aske our pardon, The nature of his great offence is dead, And deeper then obliuion, we do burie Th' incensing reliques of it. Let him approach A stranger, no offender; and informe him So 'tis our will he should

Gent. I shall my Liege

Kin. What sayes he to your daughter, Haue you spoke? Laf. All that he is, hath reference to your Highnes

Kin. Then shall we haue a match. I haue letters sent me, that sets him high in fame. Enter Count Bertram.

Laf. He lookes well on't

Kin. I am not a day of season, For thou maist see a sun-shine, and a haile In me at once: But to the brightest beames Distracted clouds giue way, so stand thou forth, The time is faire againe

Ber. My high repented blames Deere Soueraigne pardon to me

Kin. All is whole, Not one word more of the consumed time, Let's take the instant by the forward top: For we are old, and on our quick'st decrees Th' inaudible, and noiselesse foot of time Steales, ere we can effect them. You remember The daughter of this Lord? Ber. Admiringly my Liege, at first I stucke my choice vpon her, ere my heart Durst make too bold a herauld of my tongue: Where the impression of mine eye enfixing, Contempt his scornfull Perspectiue did lend me, Which warpt the line, of euerie other fauour, Scorn'd a faire colour, or exprest it stolne, Extended or contracted all proportions To a most hideous obiect. Thence it came, That she whom all men prais'd, and whom my selfe, Since I haue lost, haue lou'd; was in mine eye The dust that did offend it

Kin. Well excus'd: That thou didst loue her, strikes some scores away From the great compt: but loue that comes too late, Like a remorsefull pardon slowly carried To the great sender, turnes a sowre offence, Crying, that's good that's gone: Our rash faults, Make triuiall price of serious things we haue, Not knowing them, vntill we know their graue. Oft our displeasures to our selues vniust, Destroy our friends, and after weepe their dust: Our owne loue waking, cries to see what's done, While shamefull hate sleepes out the afternoone. Be this sweet Helens knell, and now forget her. Send forth your amorous token for faire Maudlin, The maine consents are had, and heere wee'l stay To see our widdowers second marriage day: Which better then the first, O deere heauen blesse, Or, ere they meete in me, O Nature cesse

Laf. Come on my sonne, in whom my houses name Must be digested: giue a fauour from you To sparkle in the spirits of my daughter, That she may quickly come. By my old beard, And eu'rie haire that's on't, Helen that's dead Was a sweet creature: such a ring as this, The last that ere I tooke her leaue at Court, I saw vpon her finger

Ber. Hers it was not

King. Now pray you let me see it. For mine eye, While I was speaking, oft was fasten'd too't: This Ring was mine, and when I gaue it Hellen, I bad her if her fortunes euer stoode Necessitied to helpe, that by this token I would releeue her. Had you that craft to reaue her Of what should stead her most? Ber. My gracious Soueraigne, How ere it pleases you to take it so, The ring was neuer hers

Old La. Sonne, on my life I haue seene her weare it, and she reckon'd it At her liues rate

Laf. I am sure I saw her weare it

Ber. You are deceiu'd my Lord, she neuer saw it: In Florence was it from a casement throwne mee, Wrap'd in a paper, which contain'd the name Of her that threw it: Noble she was, and thought I stood ingag'd, but when I had subscrib'd To mine owne fortune, and inform'd her fully, I could not answer in that course of Honour As she had made the ouerture, she ceast In heauie satisfaction, and would neuer Receiue the Ring againe

Kin. Platus himselfe, That knowes the tinct and multiplying med'cine, Hath not in natures mysterie more science, Then I haue in this Ring. 'Twas mine, 'twas Helens, Who euer gaue it you: then if you know That you are well acquainted with your selfe, Confesse 'twas hers, and by what rough enforcement You got it from her. She call'd the Saints to suretie, That she would neuer put it from her finger, Vnlesse she gaue it to your selfe in bed, Where you haue neuer come: or sent it vs Vpon her great disaster

Ber. She neuer saw it

Kin. Thou speak'st it falsely: as I loue mine Honor, And mak'st connecturall feares to come into me, Which I would faine shut out, if it should proue That thou art so inhumane, 'twill not proue so: And yet I know not, thou didst hate her deadly, And she is dead, which nothing but to close Her eyes my selfe, could win me to beleeue, More then to see this Ring. Take him away, My fore-past proofes, how ere the matter fall Shall taze my feares of little vanitie, Hauing vainly fear'd too little. Away with him, Wee'l sift this matter further

Ber. If you shall proue This Ring was euer hers, you shall as easie Proue that I husbanded her bed in Florence, Where yet she neuer was. Enter a Gentleman.

King. I am wrap'd in dismall thinkings

Gen. Gracious Soueraigne. Whether I haue beene too blame or no, I know not, Here's a petition from a Florentine, Who hath for foure or fiue remoues come short, To tender it her selfe. I vndertooke it, Vanquish'd thereto by the faire grace and speech Of the poore suppliant, who by this I know Is heere attending: her businesse lookes in her With an importing visage, and she told me In a sweet verball breefe, it did concerne Your Highnesse with her selfe.

A Letter.

Vpon his many protestations to marrie mee when his wife was dead, I blush to say it, he wonne me. Now is the Count Rossillion a Widdower, his vowes are forfeited to mee, and my honors payed to him. Hee stole from Florence, taking no leaue, and I follow him to his Countrey for Iustice: Grant it me, O King, in you it best lies, otherwise a seducer flourishes, and a poore Maid is vndone. Diana Capilet

Laf. I will buy me a sonne in Law in a faire, and toule for this. Ile none of him

Kin. The heauens haue thought well on thee Lafew, To bring forth this discou'rie, seeke these sutors: Go speedily, and bring againe the Count. Enter Bertram.

I am a-feard the life of Hellen (Ladie) Was fowly snatcht

Old La. Now iustice on the doers

King. I wonder sir, sir, wiues are monsters to you, And that you flye them as you sweare them Lordship, Yet you desire to marry. What woman's that? Enter Widdow, Diana, and Parrolles.

Dia. I am my Lord a wretched Florentine, Deriued from the ancient Capilet, My suite as I do vnderstand you know, And therefore know how farre I may be pittied

Wid. I am her Mother sir, whose age and honour Both suffer vnder this complaint we bring, And both shall cease, without your remedie

King. Come hether Count, do you know these Women? Ber. My Lord, I neither can nor will denie, But that I know them, do they charge me further? Dia. Why do you looke so strange vpon your wife? Ber. She's none of mine my Lord

Dia. If you shall marrie You giue away this hand, and that is mine, You giue away heauens vowes, and those are mine: You giue away my selfe, which is knowne mine: For I by vow am so embodied yours, That she which marries you, must marrie me, Either both or none

Laf. Your reputation comes too short for my daughter, you are no husband for her

Ber. My Lord, this is a fond and desp'rate creature, Whom sometime I haue laugh'd with: Let your highnes Lay a more noble thought vpon mine honour, Then for to thinke that I would sinke it heere

Kin. Sir for my thoughts, you haue them il to friend, Till your deeds gaine them fairer: proue your honor, Then in my thought it lies

Dian. Good my Lord, Aske him vpon his oath, if hee do's thinke He had not my virginity

Kin. What saist thou to her? Ber. She's impudent my Lord, And was a common gamester to the Campe

Dia. He do's me wrong my Lord: If I were so, He might haue bought me at a common price. Do not beleeue him. O behold this Ring, Whose high respect and rich validitie Did lacke a Paralell: yet for all that He gaue it to a Commoner a'th Campe If I be one

Coun. He blushes, and 'tis hit: Of sixe preceding Ancestors that Iemme Confer'd by testament to'th sequent issue Hath it beene owed and worne. This is his wife, That Ring's a thousand proofes

King. Me thought you saide You saw one heere in Court could witnesse it

Dia. I did my Lord, but loath am to produce So bad an instrument, his names Parrolles

Laf. I saw the man to day, if man he bee

Kin. Finde him, and bring him hether

Ros. What of him: He's quoted for a most perfidious slaue With all the spots a'th world, taxt and debosh'd, Whose nature sickens: but to speake a truth, Am I, or that or this for what he'l vtter, That will speake any thing

Kin. She hath that Ring of yours

Ros. I thinke she has; certaine it is I lyk'd her, And boorded her i'th wanton way of youth: She knew her distance, and did angle for mee, Madding my eagernesse with her restraint, As all impediments in fancies course Are motiues of more fancie, and in fine, Her insuite comming with her moderne grace, Subdu'd me to her rate, she got the Ring, And I had that which any inferiour might At Market price haue bought

Dia. I must be patient: You that haue turn'd off a first so noble wife, May iustly dyet me. I pray you yet, (Since you lacke vertue, I will loose a husband) Send for your Ring, I will returne it home, And giue me mine againe

Ros. I haue it not

Kin. What Ring was yours I pray you? Dian. Sir much like the same vpon your finger

Kin. Know you this Ring, this Ring was his of late

Dia. And this was it I gaue him being a bed

Kin. The story then goes false, you threw it him Out of a Casement

Dia. I haue spoke the truth. Enter Parolles.

Ros. My Lord, I do confesse the ring was hers

Kin. You boggle shrewdly, euery feather starts you: Is this the man you speake of? Dia. I, my Lord

Kin. Tell me sirrah, but tell me true I charge you, Not fearing the displeasure of your master: Which on your iust proceeding, Ile keepe off, By him and by this woman heere, what know you? Par. So please your Maiesty, my master hath bin an honourable Gentleman. Trickes hee hath had in him, which Gentlemen haue

Kin. Come, come, to'th' purpose: Did hee loue this woman? Par. Faith sir he did loue her, but how

Kin. How I pray you? Par. He did loue her sir, as a Gent. loues a Woman

Kin. How is that? Par. He lou'd her sir, and lou'd her not

Kin. As thou art a knaue and no knaue, what an equiuocall Companion is this? Par. I am a poore man, and at your Maiesties command

Laf. Hee's a good drumme my Lord, but a naughtie Orator

Dian. Do you know he promist me marriage? Par. Faith I know more then Ile speake

Kin. But wilt thou not speake all thou know'st? Par. Yes so please your Maiesty: I did goe betweene them as I said, but more then that he loued her, for indeede he was madde for her, and talkt of Sathan, and of Limbo, and of Furies, and I know not what: yet I was in that credit with them at that time, that I knewe of their going to bed, and of other motions, as promising her marriage, and things which would deriue mee ill will to speake of, therefore I will not speake what I know

Kin. Thou hast spoken all alreadie, vnlesse thou canst say they are maried, but thou art too fine in thy euidence, therefore stand aside. This Ring you say was yours

Dia. I my good Lord

Kin. Where did you buy it? Or who gaue it you? Dia. It was not giuen me, nor I did not buy it

Kin. Who lent it you? Dia. It was not lent me neither

Kin. Where did you finde it then? Dia. I found it not

Kin. If it were yours by none of all these wayes, How could you giue it him? Dia. I neuer gaue it him

Laf. This womans an easie gloue my Lord, she goes off and on at pleasure

Kin. This Ring was mine, I gaue it his first wife

Dia. It might be yours or hers for ought I know

Kin. Take her away, I do not like her now, To prison with her: and away with him, Vnlesse thou telst me where thou hadst this Ring, Thou diest within this houre

Dia. Ile neuer tell you

Kin. Take her away

Dia. Ile put in baile my liedge

Kin. I thinke thee now some common Customer

Dia. By Ioue if euer I knew man 'twas you

King. Wherefore hast thou accusde him al this while

Dia. Because he's guiltie, and he is not guilty: He knowes I am no Maid, and hee'l sweare too't: Ile sweare I am a Maid, and he knowes not. Great King I am no strumpet, by my life, I am either Maid, or else this old mans wife

Kin. She does abuse our eares, to prison with her

Dia. Good mother fetch my bayle. Stay Royall sir, The Ieweller that owes the Ring is sent for, And he shall surety me. But for this Lord, Who hath abus'd me as he knowes himselfe, Though yet he neuer harm'd me, heere I quit him. He knowes himselfe my bed he hath defil'd, And at that time he got his wife with childe: Dead though she be, she feeles her yong one kicke: So there's my riddle, one that's dead is quicke, And now behold the meaning. Enter Hellen and Widdow.

Kin. Is there no exorcist Beguiles the truer Office of mine eyes? Is't reall that I see? Hel. No my good Lord, 'Tis but the shadow of a wife you see, The name, and not the thing

Ros. Both, both, O pardon

Hel. Oh my good Lord, when I was like this Maid, I found you wondrous kinde, there is your Ring, And looke you, heeres your letter: this it sayes, When from my finger you can get this Ring, And is by me with childe, &c. This is done, Will you be mine now you are doubly wonne? Ros. If she my Liege can make me know this clearly, Ile loue her dearely, euer, euer dearly

Hel. If it appeare not plaine, and proue vntrue, Deadly diuorce step betweene me and you. O my deere mother do I see you liuing? Laf. Mine eyes smell Onions, I shall weepe anon: Good Tom Drumme lend me a handkercher. So I thanke thee, waite on me home, Ile make sport with thee: Let thy curtsies alone, they are scuruy ones

King. Let vs from point to point this storie know, To make the euen truth in pleasure flow: If thou beest yet a fresh vncropped flower, Choose thou thy husband, and Ile pay thy dower. For I can guesse, that by thy honest ayde, Thou keptst a wife her selfe, thy selfe a Maide. Of that and all the progresse more and lesse, Resoluedly more leasure shall expresse: All yet seemes well, and if it end so meete, The bitter past, more welcome is the sweet.

Flourish.

The Kings a Begger, now the Play is done, All is well ended, if this suite be wonne, That you expresse Content: which we will pay, With strife to please you, day exceeding day: Ours be your patience then, and yours our parts, Your gentle hands lend vs, and take our hearts.

Exeunt. omn.

FINIS. ALL'S Well, that Ends Well.

Twelfe Night, Or what you will

Actus Primus, Scaena Prima.

Enter Orsino Duke of Illyria, Curio, and other Lords.

Duke. If Musicke be the food of Loue, play on, Giue me excesse of it: that surfetting, The appetite may sicken, and so dye. That straine agen, it had a dying fall: O, it came ore my eare, like the sweet sound That breathes vpon a banke of Violets; Stealing, and giuing Odour. Enough, no more, 'Tis not so sweet now, as it was before. O spirit of Loue, how quicke and fresh art thou, That notwithstanding thy capacitie, Receiueth as the Sea. Nought enters there, Of what validity, and pitch so ere, But falles into abatement, and low price Euen in a minute; so full of shapes is fancie, That it alone, is high fantasticall

Cu. Will you go hunt my Lord? Du. What Curio? Cu. The Hart

Du. Why so I do, the Noblest that I haue: O when mine eyes did see Oliuia first, Me thought she purg'd the ayre of pestilence; That instant was I turn'd into a Hart, And my desires like fell and cruell hounds, Ere since pursue me. How now what newes from her? Enter Valentine.

Val. So please my Lord, I might not be admitted, But from her handmaid do returne this answer: The Element it selfe, till seuen yeares heate, Shall not behold her face at ample view: But like a Cloystresse she will vailed walke, And water once a day her Chamber round With eye-offending brine: all this to season A brothers dead loue, which she would keepe fresh And lasting, in her sad remembrance

Du. O she that hath a heart of that fine frame To pay this debt of loue but to a brother, How will she loue, when the rich golden shaft Hath kill'd the flocke of all affections else That liue in her. When Liuer, Braine, and Heart, These soueraigne thrones, are all supply'd and fill'd Her sweete perfections with one selfe king: Away before me, to sweet beds of Flowres, Loue-thoughts lye rich, when canopy'd with bowres.

Exeunt.

Scena Secunda.

Enter Viola, a Captaine, and Saylors.

Vio. What Country (Friends) is this? Cap. This is Illyria Ladie

Vio. And what should I do in Illyria? My brother he is in Elizium, Perchance he is not drown'd: What thinke you saylors? Cap. It is perchance that you your selfe were saued

Vio. O my poore brother, and so perchance may he be

Cap. True Madam, and to comfort you with chance, Assure your selfe, after our ship did split, When you, and those poore number saued with you, Hung on our driuing boate: I saw your brother Most prouident in perill, binde himselfe, (Courage and hope both teaching him the practise) To a strong Maste, that liu'd vpon the sea: Where like Orion on the Dolphines backe, I saw him hold acquaintance with the waues, So long as I could see

Vio. For saying so, there's Gold: Mine owne escape vnfoldeth to my hope, Whereto thy speech serues for authoritie The like of him. Know'st thou this Countrey? Cap. I Madam well, for I was bred and borne Not three houres trauaile from this very place

Vio. Who gouernes heere? Cap. A noble Duke in nature, as in name

Vio. What is his name? Cap. Orsino

Vio. Orsino: I haue heard my father name him. He was a Batchellor then

Cap. And so is now, or was so very late: For but a month ago I went from hence, And then 'twas fresh in murmure (as you know What great ones do, the lesse will prattle of,) That he did seeke the loue of faire Oliuia

Vio. What's shee? Cap. A vertuous maid, the daughter of a Count That dide some tweluemonth since, then leauing her In the protection of his sonne, her brother, Who shortly also dide: for whose deere loue (They say) she hath abiur'd the sight And company of men

Vio. O that I seru'd that Lady, And might not be deliuered to the world Till I had made mine owne occasion mellow What my estate is

Cap. That were hard to compasse, Because she will admit no kinde of suite, No, not the Dukes

Vio. There is a faire behauiour in thee Captaine, And though that nature, with a beauteous wall Doth oft close in pollution: yet of thee I will beleeue thou hast a minde that suites With this thy faire and outward charracter. I prethee (and Ile pay thee bounteously) Conceale me what I am, and be my ayde, For such disguise as haply shall become The forme of my intent. Ile serue this Duke, Thou shalt present me as an Eunuch to him, It may be worth thy paines: for I can sing, And speake to him in many sorts of Musicke, That will allow me very worth his seruice. What else may hap, to time I will commit, Onely shape thou thy silence to my wit

Cap. Be you his Eunuch, and your Mute Ile bee, When my tongue blabs, then let mine eyes not see

Vio. I thanke thee: Lead me on.

Exeunt.

Scaena Tertia.

Enter Sir Toby, and Maria.

Sir To. What a plague meanes my Neece to take the death of her brother thus? I am sure care's an enemie to life

Mar. By my troth sir Toby, you must come in earlyer a nights: your Cosin, my Lady, takes great exceptions to your ill houres

To. Why let her except, before excepted

Ma. I, but you must confine your selfe within the modest limits of order

To. Confine? Ile confine my selfe no finer then I am: these cloathes are good enough to drinke in, and so bee these boots too: and they be not, let them hang themselues in their owne straps

Ma. That quaffing and drinking will vndoe you: I heard my Lady talke of it yesterday: and of a foolish knight that you brought in one night here, to be hir woer To. Who, Sir Andrew Ague-cheeke? Ma. I he

To. He's as tall a man as any's in Illyria

Ma. What's that to th' purpose? To. Why he ha's three thousand ducates a yeare

Ma. I, but hee'l haue but a yeare in all these ducates: He's a very foole, and a prodigall

To. Fie, that you'l say so: he playes o'th Viol-de-gamboys, and speaks three or four languages word for word without booke, & hath all the good gifts of nature

Ma. He hath indeed, almost naturall: for besides that he's a foole, he's a great quarreller: and but that hee hath the gift of a Coward, to allay the gust he hath in quarrelling, 'tis thought among the prudent, he would quickely haue the gift of a graue

Tob. By this hand they are scoundrels and substractors that say so of him. Who are they? Ma. They that adde moreour, hee's drunke nightly in your company

To. With drinking healths to my Neece: Ile drinke to her as long as there is a passage in my throat, & drinke in Illyria: he's a Coward and a Coystrill that will not drinke to my Neece, till his braines turne o'th toe, like a parish top. What wench? Castiliano vulgo: for here coms Sir Andrew Agueface. Enter Sir Andrew.

And. Sir Toby Belch. How now sir Toby Belch? To. Sweet sir Andrew

And. Blesse you faire Shrew

Mar. And you too sir

Tob. Accost Sir Andrew, accost

And. What's that? To. My Neeces Chamber-maid

Ma. Good Mistris accost, I desire better acquaintance Ma. My name is Mary sir

And. Good mistris Mary, accost

To, You mistake knight: Accost, is front her, boord her, woe her, assayle her

And. By my troth I would not vndertake her in this company. Is that the meaning of Accost? Ma. Far you well Gentlemen

To. And thou let part so Sir Andrew, would thou mightst neuer draw sword agen

And. And you part so mistris, I would I might neuer draw sword agen: Faire Lady, doe you thinke you haue fooles in hand? Ma. Sir, I haue not you by'th hand

An. Marry but you shall haue, and heeres my hand

Ma. Now sir, thought is free: I pray you bring your hand to'th Buttry barre, and let it drinke

An. Wherefore (sweet-heart?) What's your Metaphor? Ma. It's dry sir

And. Why I thinke so: I am not such an asse, but I can keepe my hand dry. But what's your iest? Ma. A dry iest Sir

And. Are you full of them? Ma. I Sir, I haue them at my fingers ends: marry now I let go your hand, I am barren.

Exit Maria

To. O knight, thou lack'st a cup of Canarie: when did I see thee so put downe? An. Neuer in your life I thinke, vnlesse you see Canarie put me downe: mee thinkes sometimes I haue no more wit then a Christian, or an ordinary man ha's: but I am a great eater of beefe, and I beleeue that does harme to my wit

To. No question

An. And I thought that, I'de forsweare it. Ile ride home to morrow sir Toby

To. Pur-quoy my deere knight? An. What is purquoy? Do, or not do? I would I had bestowed that time in the tongues, that I haue in fencing dancing, and beare-bayting: O had I but followed the Arts

To. Then hadst thou had an excellent head of haire

An. Why, would that haue mended my haire? To. Past question, for thou seest it will not coole my nature An. But it becoms me wel enough, dost not? To. Excellent, it hangs like flax on a distaffe: & I hope to see a huswife take thee between her legs, & spin it off

An. Faith Ile home to morrow sir Toby, your niece wil not be seene, or if she be it's four to one, she'l none of me: the Count himselfe here hard by, wooes her

To. Shee'l none o'th Count, she'l not match aboue hir degree, neither in estate, yeares, nor wit: I haue heard her swear't. Tut there's life in't man

And. Ile stay a moneth longer. I am a fellow o'th strangest minde i'th world: I delight in Maskes and Reuels sometimes altogether

To. Art thou good at these kicke-chawses Knight? And. As any man in Illyria, whatsoeuer he be, vnder the degree of my betters, & yet I will not compare with an old man

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

To. And I can cut the Mutton too't

And. And I thinke I haue the backe-tricke, simply as strong as any man in Illyria

To. Wherefore are these things hid? Wherefore haue these gifts a Curtaine before 'em? Are they like to take dust, like mistris Mals picture? Why dost thou not goe to Church in a Galliard, and come home in a Carranto? My verie walke should be a Iigge: I would not so much as make water but in a Sinke-a-pace: What dooest thou meane? Is it a world to hide vertues in? I did thinke by the excellent constitution of thy legge, it was form'd vnder the starre of a Galliard

And. I, 'tis strong, and it does indifferent well in a dam'd colour'd stocke. Shall we sit about some Reuels? To. What shall we do else: were we not borne vnder Taurus? And. Taurus? That sides and heart

To. No sir, it is leggs and thighes: let me see thee caper. Ha, higher: ha, ha, excellent.

Exeunt.

Scena Quarta.

Enter Valentine, and Viola in mans attire.

Val. If the Duke continue these fauours towards you Cesario, you are like to be much aduanc'd, he hath known you but three dayes, and already you are no stranger

Vio. You either feare his humour, or my negligence, that you call in question the continuance of his loue. Is he inconstant sir, in his fauours

Val. No beleeue me. Enter Duke, Curio, and Attendants.

Vio. I thanke you: heere comes the Count

Duke. Who saw Cesario hoa? Vio. On your attendance my Lord heere

Du. Stand you a-while aloofe. Cesario, Thou knowst no lesse, but all: I haue vnclasp'd To thee the booke euen of my secret soule. Therefore good youth, addresse thy gate vnto her, Be not deni'de accesse, stand at her doores, And tell them, there thy fixed foot shall grow Till thou haue audience

Vio. Sure my Noble Lord, If she be so abandon'd to her sorrow As it is spoke, she neuer will admit me

Du. Be clamorous, and leape all ciuill bounds, Rather then make vnprofited returne, Vio. Say I do speake with her (my Lord) what then? Du. O then, vnfold the passion of my loue, Surprize her with discourse of my deere faith; It shall become thee well to act my woes: She will attend it better in thy youth, Then in a Nuntio's of more graue aspect

Vio. I thinke not so, my Lord

Du. Deere Lad, beleeue it; For they shall yet belye thy happy yeeres, That say thou art a man: Dianas lip Is not more smooth, and rubious: thy small pipe Is as the maidens organ, shrill, and sound, And all is semblatiue a womans part. I know thy constellation is right apt For this affayre: some foure or fiue attend him, All if you will: for I my selfe am best When least in companie: prosper well in this, And thou shalt liue as freely as thy Lord, To call his fortunes thine

Vio. Ile do my best To woe your Lady: yet a barrefull strife, Who ere I woe, my selfe would be his wife.

Exeunt.

Scena Quinta.

Enter Maria, and Clowne.

Ma. Nay, either tell me where thou hast bin, or I will not open my lippes so wide as a brissle may enter, in way of thy excuse: my Lady will hang thee for thy absence

Clo. Let her hang me: hee that is well hang'de in this world, needs to feare no colours

Ma. Make that good

Clo. He shall see none to feare

Ma. A good lenton answer: I can tell thee where y saying was borne, of I feare no colours

Clo. Where good mistris Mary? Ma. In the warrs, & that may you be bolde to say in your foolerie

Clo. Well, God giue them wisedome that haue it: & those that are fooles, let them vse their talents

Ma. Yet you will be hang'd for being so long absent, or to be turn'd away: is not that as good as a hanging to you? Clo. Many a good hanging, preuents a bad marriage: and for turning away, let summer beare it out

Ma. You are resolute then? Clo. Not so neyther, but I am resolu'd on two points Ma. That if one breake, the other will hold: or if both breake, your gaskins fall

Clo. Apt in good faith, very apt: well go thy way, if sir Toby would leaue drinking, thou wert as witty a piece of Eues flesh, as any in Illyria

Ma. Peace you rogue, no more o'that: here comes my Lady: make your excuse wisely, you were best. Enter Lady Oliuia, with Maluolio.

Clo. Wit, and't be thy will, put me into good fooling: those wits that thinke they haue thee, doe very oft proue fooles: and I that am sure I lacke thee, may passe for a wise man. For what saies Quinapalus, Better a witty foole, then a foolish wit. God blesse thee Lady

Ol. Take the foole away

Clo. Do you not heare fellowes, take away the Ladie

Ol. Go too, y'are a dry foole: Ile no more of you: besides you grow dis-honest

Clo. Two faults Madona, that drinke & good counsell wil amend: for giue the dry foole drink, then is the foole not dry: bid the dishonest man mend himself, if he mend, he is no longer dishonest; if hee cannot, let the Botcher mend him: any thing that's mended, is but patch'd: vertu that transgresses, is but patcht with sinne, and sin that amends, is but patcht with vertue. If that this simple Sillogisme will serue, so: if it will not, what remedy? As there is no true Cuckold but calamity, so beauties a flower; The Lady bad take away the foole, therefore I say againe, take her away

Ol. Sir, I bad them take away you

Clo. Misprision in the highest degree. Lady, Cucullus non facit monachum: that's as much to say, as I weare not motley in my braine: good Madona, giue mee leaue to proue you a foole

Ol. Can you do it? Clo. Dexteriously, good Madona

Ol. Make your proofe

Clo. I must catechize you for it Madona, Good my Mouse of vertue answer mee

Ol. Well sir, for want of other idlenesse, Ile bide your proofe

Clo. Good Madona, why mournst thou? Ol. Good foole, for my brothers death

Clo. I thinke his soule is in hell, Madona

Ol. I know his soule is in heauen, foole

Clo. The more foole (Madona) to mourne for your Brothers soule, being in heauen. Take away the Foole, Gentlemen

Ol. What thinke you of this foole Maluolio, doth he not mend? Mal. Yes, and shall do, till the pangs of death shake him: Infirmity that decaies the wise, doth euer make the better foole

Clow. God send you sir, a speedie Infirmity, for the better increasing your folly: Sir Toby will be sworn that I am no Fox, but he wil not passe his word for two pence that you are no Foole

Ol. How say you to that Maluolio? Mal. I maruell your Ladyship takes delight in such a barren rascall: I saw him put down the other day, with an ordinary foole, that has no more braine then a stone. Looke you now, he's out of his gard already: vnles you laugh and minister occasion to him, he is gag'd. I protest I take these Wisemen, that crow so at these set kinde of fooles, no better then the fooles Zanies

Ol. O you are sicke of selfe-loue Maluolio, and taste with a distemper'd appetite. To be generous, guiltlesse, and of free disposition, is to take those things for Bird-bolts, that you deeme Cannon bullets: There is no slander in an allow'd foole, though he do nothing but rayle; nor no rayling, in a knowne discreet man, though hee do nothing but reproue

Clo. Now Mercury indue thee with leasing, for thou speak'st well of fooles. Enter Maria.

Mar. Madam, there is at the gate, a young Gentleman, much desires to speake with you

Ol. From the Count Orsino, is it? Ma I know not (Madam) 'tis a faire young man, and well attended

Ol. Who of my people hold him in delay? Ma. Sir Toby Madam, your kinsman

Ol. Fetch him off I pray you, he speakes nothing but madman: Fie on him. Go you Maluolio; If it be a suit from the Count, I am sicke, or not at home. What you will, to dismisse it.

Exit Maluo.

Now you see sir, how your fooling growes old, & people dislike it

Clo. Thou hast spoke for vs (Madona) as if thy eldest sonne should be a foole: whose scull, Ioue cramme with braines, for heere he comes. Enter Sir Toby.

One of thy kin has a most weake Pia-mater

Ol. By mine honor halfe drunke. What is he at the gate Cosin? To. A Gentleman

Ol. A Gentleman? What Gentleman? To. 'Tis a Gentleman heere. A plague o'these pickle herring: How now Sot

Clo. Good Sir Toby

Ol. Cosin, Cosin, how haue you come so earely by this Lethargie? To. Letcherie, I defie Letchery: there's one at the gate

Ol. I marry, what is he? To. Let him be the diuell and he will, I care not: giue me faith say I. Well, it's all one.

Exit

Ol. What's a drunken man like, foole? Clo. Like a drown'd man, a foole, and a madde man: One draught aboue heate, makes him a foole, the second maddes him, and a third drownes him

Ol. Go thou and seeke the Crowner, and let him sitte o'my Coz: for he's in the third degree of drinke: hee's drown'd: go looke after him

Clo. He is but mad yet Madona, and the foole shall looke to the madman. Enter Maluolio.

Mal. Madam, yond young fellow sweares hee will speake with you. I told him you were sicke, he takes on him to vnderstand so much, and therefore comes to speak with you. I told him you were asleepe, he seems to haue a fore knowledge of that too, and therefore comes to speake with you. What is to be said to him Ladie, hee's fortified against any deniall

Ol. Tell him, he shall not speake with me

Mal. Ha's beene told so: and hee sayes hee'l stand at your doore like a Sheriffes post, and be the supporter to a bench, but hee'l speake with you

Ol. What kinde o'man is he? Mal. Why of mankinde

Ol. What manner of man? Mal. Of verie ill manner: hee'l speake with you, will you, or no

Ol. Of what personage, and yeeres is he? Mal. Not yet old enough for a man, nor yong enough for a boy: as a squash is before tis a pescod, or a Codling when tis almost an Apple: Tis with him in standing water, betweene boy and man. He is verie well-fauour'd, and he speakes verie shrewishly: One would thinke his mothers milke were scarse out of him

Ol. Let him approach: Call in my Gentlewoman

Mal. Gentlewoman, my Lady calles. Enter.

Enter Maria.

Ol. Giue me my vaile: come throw it ore my face, Wee'l once more heare Orsinos Embassie. Enter Violenta.

Vio. The honorable Ladie of the house, which is she? Ol. Speake to me, I shall answer for her: your will

Vio. Most radiant, exquisite, and vnmatchable beautie. I pray you tell me if this bee the Lady of the house, for I neuer saw her. I would bee loath to cast away my speech: for besides that it is excellently well pend, I haue taken great paines to con it. Good Beauties, let mee sustaine no scorne; I am very comptible, euen to the least sinister vsage

Ol. Whence came you sir? Vio. I can say little more then I haue studied, & that question's out of my part. Good gentle one, giue mee modest assurance, if you be the Ladie of the house, that | I may proceede in my speech

Ol. Are you a Comedian? Vio. No my profound heart: and yet (by the verie phangs of malice, I sweare) I am not that I play. Are you the Ladie of the house? Ol. If I do not vsurpe my selfe, I am

Vio. Most certaine, if you are she, you do vsurp your selfe: for what is yours to bestowe, is, not yours to reserue. But this is from my Commission: I will on with my speech in your praise, and then shew you the heart of my message

Ol. Come to what is important in't: I forgiue you the praise

Vio. Alas, I tooke great paines to studie it, and 'tis Poeticall

Ol. It is the more like to be feigned, I pray you keep it in. I heard you were sawcy at my gates, & allowd your approach rather to wonder at you, then to heare you. If you be not mad, be gone: if you haue reason, be breefe: 'tis not that time of Moone with me, to make one in so skipping a dialogue

Ma. Will you hoyst sayle sir, here lies your way

Vio. No good swabber, I am to hull here a little longer. Some mollification for your Giant, sweete Ladie; tell me your minde, I am a messenger

Ol. Sure you haue some hiddeous matter to deliuer, when the curtesie of it is so fearefull. Speake your office

Vio. It alone concernes your eare: I bring no ouerture of warre, no taxation of homage; I hold the Olyffe in my hand: my words are as full of peace, as matter

Ol. Yet you began rudely. What are you? What would you? Vio. The rudenesse that hath appear'd in mee, haue I learn'd from my entertainment. What I am, and what I would, are as secret as maiden-head: to your eares, Diuinity; to any others, prophanation

Ol. Giue vs the place alone, We will heare this diuinitie. Now sir, what is your text? Vio. Most sweet Ladie

Ol. A comfortable doctrine, and much may bee saide of it. Where lies your Text? Vio. In Orsinoes bosome

Ol. In his bosome? In what chapter of his bosome? Vio. To answer by the method, in the first of his hart

Ol. O, I haue read it: it is heresie. Haue you no more to say? Vio. Good Madam, let me see your face

Ol. Haue you any Commission from your Lord, to negotiate with my face: you are now out of your Text: but we will draw the Curtain, and shew you the picture. Looke you sir, such a one I was this present: Ist not well done? Vio. Excellently done, if God did all

Ol. 'Tis in graine sir, 'twill endure winde and weather

Vio. Tis beauty truly blent, whose red and white, Natures owne sweet, and cunning hand laid on: Lady, you are the cruell'st shee aliue, If you will leade these graces to the graue, And leaue the world no copie

Ol. O sir, I will not be so hard-hearted: I will giue out diuers scedules of my beautie. It shalbe Inuentoried and euery particle and vtensile labell'd to my will: As, Item two lippes indifferent redde, Item two grey eyes, with lids to them: Item, one necke, one chin, & so forth. Were you sent hither to praise me? Vio. I see you what you are, you are too proud: But if you were the diuell, you are faire: My Lord, and master loues you: O such loue Could be but recompenc'd, though you were crown'd The non-pareil of beautie

Ol. How does he loue me? Vio. With adorations, fertill teares, With groanes that thunder loue, with sighes of fire

Ol. Your Lord does know my mind, I cannot loue him Yet I suppose him vertuous, know him noble, Of great estate, of fresh and stainlesse youth; In voyces well divulg'd, free, learn'd, and valiant, And in dimension, and the shape of nature, A gracious person; But yet I cannot loue him: He might haue tooke his answer long ago

Vio. If I did loue you in my masters flame, With such a suffring, such a deadly life: In your deniall, I would finde no sence, I would not vnderstand it

Ol. Why, what would you? Vio. Make me a willow Cabine at your gate, And call vpon my soule within the house, Write loyall Cantons of contemned loue, And sing them lowd euen in the dead of night: Hallow your name to the reuerberate hilles, And make the babling Gossip of the aire, Cry out Oliuia: O you should not rest Betweene the elements of ayre, and earth, But you should pittie me

Ol. You might do much: What is your Parentage? Vio. Aboue my fortunes, yet my state is well: I am a Gentleman

Ol. Get you to your Lord: I cannot loue him: let him send no more, Vnlesse (perchance) you come to me againe, To tell me how he takes it: Fare you well: I thanke you for your paines: spend this for mee

Vio. I am no feede poast, Lady; keepe your purse, My Master, not my selfe, lackes recompence. Loue make his heart of flint, that you shal loue, And let your feruour like my masters be, Plac'd in contempt: Farwell fayre crueltie.

Exit

Ol. What is your Parentage? Aboue my fortunes, yet my state is well; I am a Gentleman. Ile be sworne thou art, Thy tongue, thy face, thy limbes, actions, and spirit, Do giue thee fiue-fold blazon: not too fast: soft, soft, Vnlesse the Master were the man. How now? Euen so quickly may one catch the plague? Me thinkes I feele this youths perfections With an inuisible, and subtle stealth To creepe in at mine eyes. Well, let it be. What hoa, Maluolio. Enter Maluolio.

Mal. Heere Madam, at your seruice

Ol. Run after that same peeuish Messenger The Countes man: he left this Ring behinde him Would I, or not: tell him, Ile none of it. Desire him not to flatter with his Lord, Nor hold him vp with hopes, I am not for him: If that the youth will come this way to morrow, Ile giue him reasons for't: hie thee Maluolio

Mal. Madam, I will. Enter.

Ol. I do I know not what, and feare to finde Mine eye too great a flatterer for my minde: Fate, shew thy force, our selues we do not owe, What is decreed, must be: and be this so.

Finis, Actus primus.

Actus Secundus, Scaena prima.

Enter Antonio & Sebastian.

Ant. Will you stay no longer: nor will you not that I go with you

Seb. By your patience, no: my starres shine darkely ouer me; the malignancie of my fate, might perhaps distemper yours; therefore I shall craue of you your leaue, that I may beare my euils alone. It were a bad recompence for your loue, to lay any of them on you

An. Let me yet know of you, whither you are bound

Seb. No sooth sir: my determinate voyage is meere extrauagancie. But I perceiue in you so excellent a touch of modestie, that you will not extort from me, what I am willing to keepe in: therefore it charges me in manners, the rather to expresse my selfe: you must know of mee then Antonio, my name is Sebastian (which I call'd Rodorigo) my father was that Sebastian of Messaline, whom I know you haue heard of. He left behinde him, my selfe, and a sister, both borne in an houre: if the Heauens had beene pleas'd, would we had so ended. But you sir, alter'd that, for some houre before you tooke me from the breach of the sea, was my sister drown'd

Ant. Alas the day

Seb. A Lady sir, though it was said shee much resembled me, was yet of many accounted beautiful: but thogh I could not with such estimable wonder ouer-farre beleeue that, yet thus farre I will boldly publish her, shee bore a minde that enuy could not but call faire: Shee is drown'd already sir with salt water, though I seeme to drowne her remembrance againe with more

Ant. Pardon me sir, your bad entertainment

Seb. O good Antonio, forgiue me your trouble

Ant. If you will not murther me for my loue, let mee be your seruant

Seb. If you will not vndo what you haue done, that is kill him, whom you haue recouer'd, desire it not. Fare ye well at once, my bosome is full of kindnesse, and I am yet so neere the manners of my mother, that vpon the least occasion more, mine eyes will tell tales of me: I am bound to the Count Orsino's Court, farewell.

Exit

Ant. The gentlenesse of all the gods go with thee: I haue many enemies in Orsino's Court, Else would I very shortly see thee there: But come what may, I do adore thee so, That danger shall seeme sport, and I will go. Enter.

Scaena Secunda.

Enter Viola and Maluolio, at seuerall doores.

Mal. Were not you eu'n now, with the Countesse Oliuia? Vio. Euen now sir, on a moderate pace, I haue since ariu'd but hither

Mal. She returnes this Ring to you (sir) you might haue saued mee my paines, to haue taken it away your selfe. She adds moreouer, that you should put your Lord into a desperate assurance, she will none of him. And one thing more, that you be neuer so hardie to come againe in his affaires, vnlesse it bee to report your Lords taking of this: receiue it so

Vio. She tooke the Ring of me, Ile none of it

Mal. Come sir, you peeuishly threw it to her: and her will is, it should be so return'd: If it bee worth stooping for, there it lies, in your eye: if not, bee it his that findes it. Enter.

Vio. I left no Ring with her: what meanes this Lady? Fortune forbid my out-side haue not charm'd her: She made good view of me, indeed so much, That me thought her eyes had lost her tongue, For she did speake in starts distractedly. She loues me sure, the cunning of her passion Inuites me in this churlish messenger: None of my Lords Ring? Why he sent her none; I am the man, if it be so, as tis, Poore Lady, she were better loue a dreame: Disguise, I see thou art a wickednesse, Wherein the pregnant enemie does much. How easie is it, for the proper false In womens waxen hearts to set their formes: Alas, O frailtie is the cause, not wee, For such as we are made, if such we bee: How will this fadge? My master loues her deerely, And I (poore monster) fond asmuch on him: And she (mistaken) seemes to dote on me: What will become of this? As I am man, My state is desperate for my maisters loue: As I am woman (now alas the day) What thriftlesse sighes shall poore Oliuia breath? O time, thou must vntangle this, not I, It is too hard a knot for me t' vnty.

Scoena Tertia.

Enter Sir Toby, and Sir Andrew.

To. Approach Sir Andrew: not to bee a bedde after midnight, is to be vp betimes, and Deliculo surgere, thou know'st

And. Nay by my troth I know not: but I know, to be vp late, is to be vp late

To. A false conclusion: I hate it as an vnfill'd Canne. To be vp after midnight, and to go to bed then is early: so that to go to bed after midnight, is to goe to bed betimes. Does not our liues consist of the foure Elements? And. Faith so they say, but I thinke it rather consists of eating and drinking

To. Th'art a scholler; let vs therefore eate and drinke Marian I say, a stoope of wine. Enter Clowne.

And. Heere comes the foole yfaith

Clo. How now my harts: Did you neuer see the Picture of we three? To. Welcome asse, now let's haue a catch

And. By my troth the foole has an excellent breast. I had rather then forty shillings I had such a legge, and so sweet a breath to sing, as the foole has. Insooth thou wast in very gracious fooling last night, when thou spok'st of Pigrogromitus, of the Vapians passing the Equinoctial of Queubus: 'twas very good yfaith: I sent thee sixe pence for thy Lemon, hadst it? Clo. I did impeticos thy gratillity: for Maluolios nose is no Whip-stocke. My Lady has a white hand, and the Mermidons are no bottle-ale houses

An. Excellent: Why this is the best fooling, when all is done. Now a song

To. Come on, there is sixe pence for you. Let's haue a song

An. There's a testrill of me too: if one knight giue a Clo. Would you haue a loue-song, or a song of good life? To. A loue song, a loue song

An. I, I. I care not for good life

Clowne sings . O Mistris mine where are you roming? O stay and heare, your true loues coming, That can sing both high and low. Trip no further prettie sweeting. Iourneys end in louers meeting, Euery wise mans sonne doth know

An. Excellent good, ifaith

To. Good, good

Clo. What is loue, tis not heereafter, Present mirth, hath present laughter: What's to come, is still vnsure. In delay there lies no plentie, Then come kisse me sweet and twentie: Youths a stuffe will not endure

An. A mellifluous voyce, as I am true knight

To. A contagious breath

An. Very sweet, and contagious ifaith

To. To heare by the nose, it is dulcet in contagion. But shall we make the Welkin dance indeed? Shall wee rowze the night-Owle in a Catch, that will drawe three soules out of one Weauer? Shall we do that? And. And you loue me, let's doo't: I am dogge at a Catch

Clo. Byrlady sir, and some dogs will catch well

An. Most certaine: Let our Catch be, Thou Knaue

Clo. Hold thy peace, thou Knaue knight. I shall be constrain'd in't, to call thee knaue, Knight

An. 'Tis not the first time I haue constrained one to call me knaue. Begin foole: it begins, Hold thy peace

Clo. I shall neuer begin if I hold my peace

An. Good ifaith: Come begin.

Catch sung

Enter Maria.

Mar. What a catterwalling doe you keepe heere? If my Ladie haue not call'd vp her Steward Maluolio, and bid him turne you out of doores, neuer trust me

To. My Lady's a Catayan, we are politicians, Maluolios a Peg-a-ramsie, and Three merry men be wee. Am not I consanguinious? Am I not of her blood: tilly vally. Ladie, There dwelt a man in Babylon, Lady, Lady

Clo. Beshrew me, the knights in admirable fooling

An. I, he do's well enough if he be dispos'd, and so do I too: he does it with a better grace, but I do it more naturall

To. O the twelfe day of December

Mar. For the loue o' God peace. Enter Maluolio.

Mal. My masters are you mad? Or what are you? Haue you no wit, manners, nor honestie, but to gabble like Tinkers at this time of night? Do yee make an Alehouse of my Ladies house, that ye squeak out your Coziers Catches without any mitigation or remorse of voice? Is there no respect of place, persons, nor time in you? To. We did keepe time sir in our Catches. Snecke vp