Front matter (continued 17)

Mal. Sir Toby, I must be round with you. My Lady bad me tell you, that though she harbors you as her kinsman, she's nothing ally'd to your disorders. If you can separate your selfe and your misdemeanors, you are welcome to the house: if not, and it would please you to take leaue of her, she is very willing to bid you farewell

To. Farewell deere heart, since I must needs be gone

Mar. Nay good Sir Toby

Clo. His eyes do shew his dayes are almost done

Mal. Is't euen so? To. But I will neuer dye

Clo. Sir Toby there you lye

Mal. This is much credit to you

To. Shall I bid him go

Clo. What and if you do? To. Shall I bid him go, and spare not? Clo. O no, no, no, no, you dare not

To. Out o' tune sir, ye lye: Art any more then a Steward? Dost thou thinke because thou art vertuous, there shall be no more Cakes and Ale? Clo. Yes by S[aint]. Anne, and Ginger shall bee hotte y'th mouth too

To. Th'art i'th right. Goe sir, rub your Chaine with crums. A stope of Wine Maria

Mal. Mistris Mary, if you priz'd my Ladies fauour at any thing more then contempt, you would not giue meanes for this vnciuill rule; she shall know of it by this hand.

Exit

Mar. Go shake your eares

An. 'Twere as good a deede as to drink when a mans a hungrie, to challenge him the field, and then to breake promise with him, and make a foole of him

To. Doo't knight, Ile write thee a Challenge: or Ile deliuer thy indignation to him by word of mouth

Mar. Sweet Sir Toby be patient for to night: Since the youth of the Counts was to day with my Lady, she is much out of quiet. For Monsieur Maluolio, let me alone with him: If I do not gull him into a nayword, and make him a common recreation, do not thinke I haue witte enough to lye straight in my bed: I know I can do it

To. Possesse vs, possesse vs, tell vs something of him

Mar. Marrie sir, sometimes he is a kinde of Puritane

An. O, if I thought that, Ide beate him like a dogge

To. What for being a Puritan, thy exquisite reason, deere knight

An. I haue no exquisite reason for't, but I haue reason good enough

Mar. The diu'll a Puritane that hee is, or any thing constantly but a time-pleaser, an affection'd Asse, that cons State without booke, and vtters it by great swarths. The best perswaded of himselfe: so cram'd (as he thinkes) with excellencies, that it is his grounds of faith, that all that looke on him, loue him: and on that vice in him, will my reuenge finde notable cause to worke

To. What wilt thou do? Mar. I will drop in his way some obscure Epistles of loue, wherein by the colour of his beard, the shape of his legge, the manner of his gate, the expressure of his eye, forehead, and complection, he shall finde himselfe most feelingly personated. I can write very like my Ladie your Neece, on a forgotten matter wee can hardly make distinction of our hands

To. Excellent, I smell a deuice

An. I hau't in my nose too

To. He shall thinke by the Letters that thou wilt drop that they come from my Neece, and that shee's in loue with him

Mar. My purpose is indeed a horse of that colour

An. And your horse now would make him an Asse

Mar. Asse, I doubt not

An. O twill be admirable

Mar. Sport royall I warrant you: I know my Physicke will worke with him, I will plant you two, and let the Foole make a third, where he shall finde the Letter: obserue his construction of it: For this night to bed, and dreame on the euent: Farewell.

Exit

To. Good night Penthisilea

An. Before me she's a good wench

To. She's a beagle true bred, and one that adores me: what o'that? An. I was ador'd once too

To. Let's to bed knight: Thou hadst neede send for more money

An. If I cannot recouer your Neece, I am a foule way out

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

An. If I do not, neuer trust me, take it how you will

To. Come, come, Ile go burne some Sacke, tis too late to go to bed now: Come knight, come knight.

Exeunt.

Scena Quarta.

Enter Duke, Viola, Curio, and others

Du. Giue me some Musick; Now good morow frends. Now good Cesario, but that peece of song, That old and Anticke song we heard last night; Me thought it did releeue my passion much, More then light ayres, and recollected termes Of these most briske and giddy-paced times. Come, but one verse

Cur. He is not heere (so please your Lordshippe) that should sing it? Du. Who was it? Cur. Feste the Iester my Lord, a foole that the Ladie Oliuiaes Father tooke much delight in. He is about the house

Du. Seeke him out, and play the tune the while.

Musicke playes.

Come hither Boy, if euer thou shalt loue In the sweet pangs of it, remember me: For such as I am, all true Louers are, Vnstaid and skittish in all motions else, Saue in the constant image of the creature That is belou'd. How dost thou like this tune? Vio. It giues a verie eccho to the seate Where loue is thron'd

Du. Thou dost speake masterly, My life vpon't, yong though thou art, thine eye Hath staid vpon some fauour that it loues: Hath it not boy? Vio. A little, by your fauour

Du. What kinde of woman ist? Vio. Of your complection

Du. She is not worth thee then. What yeares ifaith? Vio. About your yeeres my Lord

Du. Too old by heauen: Let still the woman take An elder then her selfe, so weares she to him; So swayes she leuell in her husbands heart: For boy, howeuer we do praise our selues, Our fancies are more giddie and vnfirme, More longing, wauering, sooner lost and worne, Then womens are

Vio. I thinke it well my Lord

Du. Then let thy Loue be yonger then thy selfe, Or thy affection cannot hold the bent: For women are as Roses, whose faire flowre Being once displaid, doth fall that verie howre

Vio. And so they are: alas, that they are so: To die, euen when they to perfection grow. Enter Curio & Clowne.

Du. O fellow come, the song we had last night: Marke it Cesario, it is old and plaine; The Spinsters and the Knitters in the Sun, And the free maides that weaue their thred with bones, Do vse to chaunt it: it is silly sooth, And dallies with the innocence of loue, Like the old age

Clo. Are you ready Sir? Duke. I prethee sing.

Musicke.

The Song.

Come away, come away death, And in sad cypresse let me be laide. Fye away, fie away breath, I am slaine by a faire cruell maide: My shrowd of white, stuck all with Ew, O prepare it. My part of death no one so true did share it. Not a flower, not a flower sweete On my blacke coffin, let there be strewne: Not a friend, not a friend greet My poore corpes, where my bones shall be throwne: A thousand thousand sighes to saue, lay me o where Sad true louer neuer find my graue, to weepe there

Du. There's for thy paines

Clo. No paines sir, I take pleasure in singing sir

Du. Ile pay thy pleasure then

Clo. Truely sir, and pleasure will be paide one time, or another

Du. Giue me now leaue, to leaue thee

Clo. Now the melancholly God protect thee, and the Tailor make thy doublet of changeable Taffata, for thy minde is a very Opall. I would haue men of such constancie put to Sea, that their businesse might be euery thing, and their intent euerie where, for that's it, that alwayes makes a good voyage of nothing. Farewell.

Exit

Du. Let all the rest giue place: Once more Cesario, Get thee to yond same soueraigne crueltie: Tell her my loue, more noble then the world Prizes not quantitie of dirtie lands, The parts that fortune hath bestow'd vpon her: Tell her I hold as giddily as Fortune: But 'tis that miracle, and Queene of Iems That nature prankes her in, attracts my soule

Vio. But if she cannot loue you sir

Du. It cannot be so answer'd

Vio. Sooth but you must. Say that some Lady, as perhappes there is, Hath for your loue as great a pang of heart As you haue for Oliuia: you cannot loue her: You tel her so: Must she not then be answer'd? Du. There is no womans sides Can bide the beating of so strong a passion, As loue doth giue my heart: no womans heart So bigge, to hold so much, they lacke retention. Alas, their loue may be call'd appetite, No motion of the Liuer, but the Pallat, That suffer surfet, cloyment, and reuolt, But mine is all as hungry as the Sea, And can digest as much, make no compare Betweene that loue a woman can beare me, And that I owe Oliuia

Vio. I but I know

Du. What dost thou knowe? Vio. Too well what loue women to men may owe: In faith they are as true of heart, as we. My Father had a daughter lou'd a man As it might be perhaps, were I a woman I should your Lordship

Du. And what's her history? Vio. A blanke my Lord: she neuer told her loue, But let concealment like a worme i'th budde Feede on her damaske cheeke: she pin'd in thought, And with a greene and yellow melancholly, She sate like Patience on a Monument, Smiling at greefe. Was not this loue indeede? We men may say more, sweare more, but indeed Our shewes are more then will: for still we proue Much in our vowes, but little in our loue

Du. But di'de thy sister of her loue my Boy? Vio. I am all the daughters of my Fathers house, And all the brothers too: and yet I know not. Sir, shall I to this Lady? Du. I that's the Theame, To her in haste: giue her this Iewell: say, My loue can giue no place, bide no denay.

Exeunt.

Scena Quinta.

Enter Sir Toby, Sir Andrew, and Fabian.

To. Come thy wayes Signior Fabian

Fab. Nay Ile come: if I loose a scruple of this sport, let me be boyl'd to death with Melancholly

To. Wouldst thou not be glad to haue the niggardly Rascally sheepe-biter, come by some notable shame? Fa. I would exult man: you know he brought me out o' fauour with my Lady, about a Beare-baiting heere

To. To anger him wee'l haue the Beare againe, and we will foole him blacke and blew, shall we not sir Andrew? An. And we do not, it is pittie of our liues. Enter Maria.

To. Heere comes the little villaine: How now my Mettle of India? Mar. Get ye all three into the box tree: Maluolio's comming downe this walke, he has beene yonder i'the Sunne practising behauiour to his own shadow this halfe houre: obserue him for the loue of Mockerie: for I know this Letter wil make a contemplatiue Ideot of him. Close in the name of ieasting, lye thou there: for heere comes the Trowt, that must be caught with tickling.

Exit

Enter Maluolio.

Mal. 'Tis but Fortune, all is fortune. Maria once told me she did affect me, and I haue heard her self come thus neere, that should shee fancie, it should bee one of my complection. Besides she vses me with a more exalted respect, then any one else that followes her. What should I thinke on't? To. Heere's an ouer-weening rogue

Fa. Oh peace: Contemplation makes a rare Turkey Cocke of him, how he iets vnder his aduanc'd plumes

And. Slight I could so beate the Rogue

To. Peace I say

Mal. To be Count Maluolio

To. Ah Rogue

An. Pistoll him, pistoll him

To. Peace, peace

Mal. There is example for't: The Lady of the Strachy, married the yeoman of the wardrobe

An. Fie on him Iezabel

Fa. O peace, now he's deepely in: looke how imagination blowes him

Mal. Hauing beene three moneths married to her, sitting in my state

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

Mal. Calling my Officers about me, in my branch'd Veluet gowne: hauing come from a day bedde, where I haue left Oliuia sleeping

To. Fire and Brimstone

Fa. O peace, peace

Mal. And then to haue the humor of state: and after a demure trauaile of regard: telling them I knowe my place, as I would they should doe theirs: to aske for my kinsman Toby

To. Boltes and shackles

Fa. Oh peace, peace, peace, now, now

Mal. Seauen of my people with an obedient start, make out for him: I frowne the while, and perchance winde vp my watch, or play with my some rich Iewell: Toby approaches; curtsies there to me

To. Shall this fellow liue? Fa. Though our silence be drawne from vs with cars, yet peace

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

To. And do's not Toby take you a blow o'the lippes, then? Mal. Saying, Cosine Toby, my Fortunes hauing cast me on your Neece, giue me this prerogatiue of speech

To. What, what? Mal. You must amend your drunkennesse

To. Out scab

Fab. Nay patience, or we breake the sinewes of our plot? Mal. Besides you waste the treasure of your time, with a foolish knight

And. That's mee I warrant you

Mal. One sir Andrew

And. I knew 'twas I, for many do call mee foole

Mal. What employment haue we heere? Fa. Now is the Woodcocke neere the gin

To. Oh peace, and the spirit of humors intimate reading aloud to him

Mal. By my life this is my Ladies hand: these bee her very C's, her V's, and her T's, and thus makes shee her great P's. It is in contempt of question her hand

An. Her C's, her V's, and her T's: why that? Mal. To the vnknowne belou'd, this, and my good Wishes: Her very Phrases: By your leaue wax. Soft, and the impressure her Lucrece, with which she vses to seale: tis my Lady: To whom should this be? Fab. This winnes him, Liuer and all

Mal. Ioue knowes I loue, but who, Lips do not mooue, no man must know. No man must know. What followes? The numbers alter'd: No man must know, If this should be thee Maluolio? To. Marrie hang thee brocke

Mal. I may command where I adore, but silence like a Lucresse knife: With bloodlesse stroke my heart doth gore, M.O.A.I. doth sway my life

Fa. A fustian riddle

To. Excellent Wench, say I

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

Fab. What dish a poyson has she drest him? To. And with what wing the stallion checkes at it? Mal. I may command, where I adore: Why shee may command me: I serue her, she is my Ladie. Why this is euident to any formall capacitie. There is no obstruction in this, and the end: What should that Alphabeticall position portend, if I could make that resemble something in me? Softly, M.O.A.I

To. O I, make vp that, he is now at a cold sent

Fab. Sowter will cry vpon't for all this, though it bee as ranke as a Fox

Mal. M. Maluolio, M. why that begins my name

Fab. Did not I say he would worke it out, the Curre is excellent at faults

Mal. M. But then there is no consonancy in the sequell that suffers vnder probation: A. should follow, but O. does

Fa. And O shall end, I hope

To. I, or Ile cudgell him, and make him cry O

Mal. And then I. comes behind

Fa. I, and you had any eye behinde you, you might see more detraction at your heeles, then Fortunes before you

Mal. M,O,A,I. This simulation is not as the former: and yet to crush this a little, it would bow to mee, for euery one of these Letters are in my name. Soft, here followes prose: If this fall into thy hand, reuolue. In my stars I am aboue thee, but be not affraid of greatnesse: Some are become great, some atcheeues greatnesse, and some haue greatnesse thrust vppon em. Thy fates open theyr hands, let thy blood and spirit embrace them, and to invre thy selfe to what thou art like to be: cast thy humble slough, and appeare fresh. Be opposite with a kinsman, surly with seruants: Let thy tongue tang arguments of state; put thy selfe into the tricke of singularitie. Shee thus aduises thee, that sighes for thee. Remember who commended thy yellow stockings, and wish'd to see thee euer crosse garter'd: I say remember, goe too, thou art made if thou desir'st to be so: If not, let me see thee a steward still, the fellow of seruants, and not woorthie to touch Fortunes fingers Farewell, Shee that would alter seruices with thee, the fortunate vnhappy daylight and champian discouers not more: This is open, I will bee proud, I will reade politicke Authours, I will baffle Sir Toby, I will wash off grosse acquaintance, I will be point deuise, the very man. I do not now foole my selfe, to let imagination iade mee; for euery reason excites to this, that my Lady loues me. She did commend my yellow stockings of late, shee did praise my legge being crosse-garter'd, and in this she manifests her selfe to my loue, & with a kinde of iniunction driues mee to these habites of her liking. I thanke my starres, I am happy: I will bee strange, stout, in yellow stockings, and crosse Garter'd, euen with the swiftnesse of putting on. Ioue, and my starres be praised. Heere is yet a postscript. Thou canst not choose but know who I am. If thou entertainst my loue, let it appeare in thy smiling, thy smiles become thee well. Therefore in my presence still smile, deero my sweete, I prethee. Ioue I thanke thee, I will smile, I wil do euery thing that thou wilt haue me.

Exit

Fab. I will not giue my part of this sport for a pension of thousands to be paid from the Sophy

To. I could marry this wench for this deuice

An. So could I too

To. And aske no other dowry with her, but such another iest. Enter Maria.

An. Nor I neither

Fab. Heere comes my noble gull catcher

To. Wilt thou set thy foote o'my necke

An. Or o'mine either? To. Shall I play my freedome at tray-trip, and becom thy bondslaue? An. Ifaith, or I either? Tob. Why, thou hast put him in such a dreame, that when the image of it leaues him, he must run mad

Ma. Nay but say true, do's it worke vpon him? To. Like Aqua vite with a Midwife

Mar. If you will then see the fruites of the sport, mark his first approach before my Lady: hee will come to her in yellow stockings, and 'tis a colour she abhorres, and crosse garter'd, a fashion shee detests: and hee will smile vpon her, which will now be so vnsuteable to her disposition, being addicted to a melancholly, as shee is, that it cannot but turn him into a notable contempt: if you wil see it follow me

To. To the gates of Tartar, thou most excellent diuell of wit

And. Ile make one too.

Exeunt.

Finis Actus secundus

Actus Tertius, Scaena prima.

Enter Viola and Clowne.

Vio. Saue thee Friend and thy Musick: dost thou liue by thy Tabor? Clo. No sir, I liue by the Church

Vio. Art thou a Churchman? Clo. No such matter sir, I do liue by the Church: For, I do liue at my house, and my house dooth stand by the Church

Vio. So thou maist say the Kings lyes by a begger, if a begger dwell neer him: or the Church stands by thy Tabor, if thy Tabor stand by the Church

Clo. You haue said sir: To see this age: A sentence is but a cheu'rill gloue to a good witte, how quickely the wrong side may be turn'd outward

Vio. Nay that's certaine: they that dally nicely with words, may quickely make them wanton

Clo. I would therefore my sister had had no name Sir

Vio. Why man? Clo. Why sir, her names a word, and to dallie with that word, might make my sister wanton: But indeede, words are very Rascals, since bonds disgrac'd them

Vio. Thy reason man? Clo. Troth sir, I can yeeld you none without wordes, and wordes are growne so false, I am loath to proue reason with them

Vio. I warrant thou art a merry fellow, and car'st for nothing

Clo. Not so sir, I do care for something: but in my conscience sir, I do not care for you: if that be to care for nothing sir, I would it would make you inuisible

Vio. Art not thou the Lady Oliuia's foole? Clo. No indeed sir, the Lady Oliuia has no folly, shee will keepe no foole sir, till she be married, and fooles are as like husbands, as Pilchers are to Herrings, the Husbands the bigger, I am indeede not her foole, but hir corrupter of words

Vio. I saw thee late at the Count Orsino's

Clo. Foolery sir, does walke about the Orbe like the Sun, it shines euery where. I would be sorry sir, but the Foole should be as oft with your Master, as with my Mistris: I thinke I saw your wisedome there

Vio. Nay, and thou passe vpon me, Ile no more with thee. Hold there's expences for thee

Clo. Now Ioue in his next commodity of hayre, send thee a beard

Vio. By my troth Ile tell thee, I am almost sicke for one, though I would not haue it grow on my chinne. Is thy Lady within? Clo Would not a paire of these haue bred sir? Vio. Yes being kept together, and put to vse

Clo. I would play Lord Pandarus of Phrygia sir, to bring a Cressida to this Troylus

Vio. I vnderstand you sir, tis well begg'd

Clo. The matter I hope is not great sir; begging, but a begger: Cressida was a begger. My Lady is within sir. I will conster to them whence you come, who you are, and what you would are out of my welkin, I might say Element, but the word is ouer-worne.

Exit

Vio. This fellow is wise enough to play the foole, And to do that well, craues a kinde of wit: He must obserue their mood on whom he iests, The quality of persons, and the time: And like the Haggard, checke at euery Feather That comes before his eye. This is a practice, As full of labour as a Wise-mans Art: For folly that he wisely shewes, is fit; But wisemens folly falne, quite taint their wit. Enter Sir Toby and Andrew.

To. Saue you Gentleman

Vio. And you sir

And. Dieu vou guard Monsieur

Vio. Et vouz ousie vostre seruiture

An. I hope sir, you are, and I am yours

To. Will you incounter the house, my Neece is desirous you should enter, if your trade be to her

Vio. I am bound to your Neece sir, I meane she is the list of my voyage

To. Taste your legges sir, put them to motion

Vio. My legges do better vnderstand me sir, then I vnderstand what you meane by bidding me taste my legs

To. I meane to go sir, to enter

Vio. I will answer you with gate and entrance, but we are preuented. Enter Oliuia, and Gentlewoman.

Most excellent accomplish'd Lady, the heauens raine Odours on you

And. That youth's a rare Courtier, raine odours, wel

Vio. My matter hath no voice Lady, but to your owne most pregnant and vouchsafed eare

And. Odours, pregnant, and vouchsafed: Ile get 'em all three already

Ol. Let the Garden doore be shut, and leaue mee to my hearing. Giue me your hand sir

Vio. My dutie Madam, and most humble seruice

Ol. What is your name? Vio. Cesario is your seruants name, faire Princesse

Ol. My seruant sir? 'Twas neuer merry world, Since lowly feigning was call'd complement: Y'are seruant to the Count Orsino youth

Vio. And he is yours, and his must needs be yours: Your seruants seruant, is your seruant Madam

Ol. For him, I thinke not on him: for his thoughts, Would they were blankes, rather then fill'd with me

Vio. Madam, I come to whet your gentle thoughts On his behalfe

Ol. O by your leaue I pray you. I bad you neuer speake againe of him; But would you vndertake another suite I had rather heare you, to solicit that, Then Musicke from the spheares

Vio. Deere Lady

Ol. Giue me leaue, beseech you: I did send, After the last enchantment you did heare, A Ring in chace of you. So did I abuse My selfe, my seruant, and I feare me you: Vnder your hard construction must I sit, To force that on you in a shamefull cunning Which you knew none of yours. What might you think? Haue you not set mine Honor at the stake, And baited it with all th' vnmuzled thoughts That tyrannous heart can think? To one of your receiuing Enough is shewne, a Cipresse, not a bosome, Hides my heart: so let me heare you speake

Vio. I pittie you

Ol. That's a degree to loue

Vio. No not a grize: for tis a vulgar proofe That verie oft we pitty enemies

Ol. Why then me thinkes 'tis time to smile agen: O world, how apt the poore are to be proud? If one should be a prey, how much the better To fall before the Lion, then the Wolfe?

Clocke strikes.

The clocke vpbraides me with the waste of time: Be not affraid good youth, I will not haue you, And yet when wit and youth is come to haruest, Your wife is like to reape a proper man: There lies your way, due West

Vio. Then Westward hoe: Grace and good disposition attend your Ladyship: You'l nothing Madam to my Lord, by me: Ol. Stay: I prethee tell me what thou thinkst of me? Vio. That you do thinke you are not what you are

Ol. If I thinke so, I thinke the same of you

Vio. Then thinke you right: I am not what I am

Ol. I would you were, as I would haue you be

Vio. Would it be better Madam, then I am? I wish it might, for now I am your foole

Ol. O what a deale of scorne, lookes beautifull? In the contempt and anger of his lip, A murdrous guilt shewes not it selfe more soone, Then loue that would seeme hid: Loues night, is noone. Cesario, by the Roses of the Spring, By maid-hood, honor, truth, and euery thing, I loue thee so, that maugre all thy pride, Nor wit, nor reason, can my passion hide: Do not extort thy reasons from this clause, For that I woo, thou therefore hast no cause: But rather reason thus, with reason fetter; Loue sought, is good: but giuen vnsought, is better

Vio. By innocence I sweare, and by my youth, I haue one heart, one bosome, and one truth, And that no woman has, nor neuer none Shall mistris be of it, saue I alone. And so adieu good Madam, neuer more, Will I my Masters teares to you deplore

Ol. Yet come againe: for thou perhaps mayst moue That heart which now abhorres, to like his loue.

Exeunt.

Scoena Secunda.

Enter Sir Toby, Sir Andrew, and Fabian.

And. No faith, Ile not stay a iot longer: To. Thy reason deere venom, giue thy reason

Fab. You must needes yeelde your reason, Sir Andrew? And. Marry I saw your Neece do more fauours to the Counts Seruing-man, then euer she bestow'd vpon mee: I saw't i'th Orchard

To. Did she see the while, old boy, tell me that

And. As plaine as I see you now

Fab. This was a great argument of loue in her toward you

And. S'light; will you make an Asse o'me

Fab. I will proue it legitimate sir, vpon the Oathes of iudgement, and reason

To. And they haue beene grand Iurie men, since before Noah was a Saylor

Fab. Shee did shew fauour to the youth in your sight, onely to exasperate you, to awake your dormouse valour, to put fire in your Heart, and brimstone in your Liuer: you should then haue accosted her, and with some excellent iests, fire-new from the mint, you should haue bangd the youth into dumbenesse: this was look'd for at your hand, and this was baulkt: the double gilt of this opportunitie you let time wash off, and you are now sayld into the North of my Ladies opinion, where you will hang like an ysickle on a Dutchmans beard, vnlesse you do redeeme it, by some laudable attempt, either of valour or policie

And. And't be any way, it must be with Valour, for policie I hate: I had as liefe be a Brownist, as a Politician

To. Why then build me thy fortunes vpon the basis of valour. Challenge me the Counts youth to fight with him hurt him in eleuen places, my Neece shall take note of it, and assure thy selfe, there is no loue-Broker in the world, can more preuaile in mans commendation with woman, then report of valour

Fab. There is no way but this sir Andrew

An. Will either of you beare me a challenge to him? To. Go, write it in a martial hand, be curst and briefe: it is no matter how wittie, so it bee eloquent, and full of inuention: taunt him with the license of Inke: if thou thou'st him some thrice, it shall not be amisse, and as many Lyes, as will lye in thy sheete of paper, although the sheete were bigge enough for the bedde of Ware in England, set 'em downe, go about it. Let there bee gaulle enough in thy inke, though thou write with a Goose-pen, no matter: about it

And. Where shall I finde you? To. Wee'l call thee at the Cubiculo: Go.

Exit Sir Andrew.

Fa. This is a deere Manakin to you Sir Toby

To. I haue beene deere to him lad, some two thousand strong, or so

Fa. We shall haue a rare Letter from him; but you'le not deliuer't

To. Neuer trust me then: and by all meanes stirre on the youth to an answer. I thinke Oxen and waine-ropes cannot hale them together. For Andrew, if he were open'd and you finde so much blood in his Liuer, as will clog the foote of a flea, Ile eate the rest of th' anatomy

Fab. And his opposit the youth beares in his visage no great presage of cruelty. Enter Maria.

To. Looke where the youngest Wren of mine comes

Mar. If you desire the spleene, and will laughe your selues into stitches, follow me; yond gull Maluolio is turned Heathen, a verie Renegatho; for there is no christian that meanes to be saued by beleeuing rightly, can euer beleeue such impossible passages of grossenesse. Hee's in yellow stockings

To. And crosse garter'd? Mar. Most villanously: like a Pedant that keepes a Schoole i'th Church: I haue dogg'd him like his murtherer. He does obey euery point of the Letter that I dropt, to betray him: He does smile his face into more lynes, then is in the new Mappe, with the augmentation of the Indies: you haue not seene such a thing as tis: I can hardly forbeare hurling things at him, I know my Ladie will strike him: if shee doe, hee'l smile, and take't for a great fauour

To. Come bring vs, bring vs where he is.

Exeunt. Omnes.

Scaena Tertia.

Enter Sebastian and Anthonio.

Seb. I would not by my will haue troubled you, But since you make your pleasure of your paines, I will no further chide you

Ant. I could not stay behinde you: my desire (More sharpe then filed steele) did spurre me forth, And not all loue to see you (though so much As might haue drawne one to a longer voyage) But iealousie, what might befall your trauell, Being skillesse in these parts: which to a stranger, Vnguided, and vnfriended, often proue Rough, and vnhospitable. My willing loue, The rather by these arguments of feare Set forth in your pursuite

Seb. My kinde Anthonio, I can no other answer make, but thankes, And thankes: and euer oft good turnes, Are shuffel'd off with such vncurrant pay: But were my worth, as is my conscience firme, You should finde better dealing: what's to do? Shall we go see the reliques of this Towne? Ant. To morrow sir, best first go see your Lodging? Seb. I am not weary, and 'tis long to night I pray you let vs satisfie our eyes With the memorials, and the things of fame That do renowne this City

Ant. Would youl'd pardon me: I do not without danger walke these streetes. Once in a sea-fight 'gainst the Count his gallies, I did some seruice, of such note indeede, That were I tane heere, it would scarse be answer'd

Seb. Belike you slew great number of his people

Ant. Th' offence is not of such a bloody nature, Albeit the quality of the time, and quarrell Might well haue giuen vs bloody argument: It might haue since bene answer'd in repaying What we tooke from them, which for Traffiques sake Most of our City did. Onely my selfe stood out, For which if I be lapsed in this place I shall pay deere

Seb. Do not then walke too open

Ant. It doth not fit me: hold sir, here's my purse, In the South Suburbes at the Elephant Is best to lodge: I will bespeake our dyet, Whiles you beguile the time, and feed your knowledge With viewing of the Towne, there shall you haue me

Seb. Why I your purse? Ant. Haply your eye shall light vpon some toy You haue desire to purchase: and your store I thinke is not for idle Markets, sir

Seb. Ile be your purse-bearer, and leaue you For an houre

Ant. To th' Elephant

Seb. I do remember.

Exeunt.

Scoena Quarta.

Enter Oliuia and Maria.

Ol. I haue sent after him, he sayes hee'l come: How shall I feast him? What bestow of him? For youth is bought more oft, then begg'd, or borrow'd. I speake too loud: Where's Maluolio, he is sad, and ciuill, And suites well for a seruant with my fortunes, Where is Maluolio? Mar. He's comming Madame: But in very strange manner. He is sure possest Madam

Ol. Why what's the matter, does he raue? Mar. No Madam, he does nothing but smile: your Ladyship were best to haue some guard about you, if hee come, for sure the man is tainted in's wits

Ol. Go call him hither. Enter Maluolio.

I am as madde as hee, If sad and merry madnesse equall bee. How now Maluolio? Mal. Sweet Lady, ho, ho

Ol. Smil'st thou? I sent for thee vpon a sad occasion

Mal. Sad Lady, I could be sad: This does make some obstruction in the blood: This crosse-gartering, but what of that? If it please the eye of one, it is with me as the very true Sonnet is: Please one, and please all

Mal. Why how doest thou man? What is the matter with thee? Mal. Not blacke in my minde, though yellow in my legges: It did come to his hands, and Commaunds shall be executed. I thinke we doe know the sweet Romane hand

Ol. Wilt thou go to bed Maluolio? Mal. To bed? I sweet heart, and Ile come to thee

Ol. God comfort thee: Why dost thou smile so, and kisse thy hand so oft? Mar. How do you Maluolio? Maluo. At your request: Yes Nightingales answere Dawes

Mar. Why appeare you with this ridiculous boldnesse before my Lady

Mal. Be not afraid of greatnesse: 'twas well writ

Ol. What meanst thou by that Maluolio? Mal. Some are borne great

Ol. Ha? Mal. Some atcheeue greatnesse

Ol. What sayst thou? Mal. And some haue greatnesse thrust vpon them

Ol. Heauen restore thee

Mal. Remember who commended thy yellow stockings

Ol. Thy yellow stockings? Mal. And wish'd to see thee crosse garter'd

Ol. Crosse garter'd? Mal. Go too, thou art made, if thou desir'st to be so

Ol. Am I made? Mal. If not, let me see thee a seruant still

Ol. Why this is verie Midsommer madnesse. Enter Seruant.

Ser. Madame, the young Gentleman of the Count Orsino's is return'd, I could hardly entreate him backe: he attends your Ladyships pleasure

Ol. Ile come to him. Good Maria, let this fellow be look'd too. Where's my Cosine Toby, let some of my people haue a speciall care of him, I would not haue him miscarrie for the halfe of my Dowry.

Exit

Mal. Oh ho, do you come neere me now: no worse man then sir Toby to looke to me. This concurres directly with the Letter, she sends him on purpose, that I may appeare stubborne to him: for she incites me to that in the Letter. Cast thy humble slough sayes she: be opposite with a Kinsman, surly with seruants, let thy tongue langer with arguments of state, put thy selfe into the tricke of singularity: and consequently setts downe the manner how: as a sad face, a reuerend carriage, a slow tongue, in the habite of some Sir of note, and so foorth. I haue lymde her, but it is Ioues doing, and Ioue make me thankefull. And when she went away now, let this Fellow be look'd too: Fellow? not Maluolio, nor after my degree, but Fellow. Why euery thing adheres togither, that no dramme of a scruple, no scruple of a scruple, no obstacle, no incredulous or vnsafe circumstance: What can be saide? Nothing that can be, can come betweene me, and the full prospect of my hopes. Well Ioue, not I, is the doer of this, and he is to be thanked. Enter Toby, Fabian, and Maria.

To. Which way is hee in the name of sanctity. If all the diuels of hell be drawne in little, and Legion himselfe possest him, yet Ile speake to him

Fab. Heere he is, heere he is: how ist with you sir? How ist with you man? Mal. Go off, I discard you: let me enioy my priuate: go off

Mar. Lo, how hollow the fiend speakes within him; did not I tell you? Sir Toby, my Lady prayes you to haue a care of him

Mal. Ah ha, does she so? To. Go too, go too: peace, peace, wee must deale gently with him: Let me alone. How do you Maluolio? How ist with you? What man, defie the diuell: consider, he's an enemy to mankinde

Mal. Do you know what you say? Mar. La you, and you speake ill of the diuell, how he takes it at heart. Pray God he be not bewitch'd

Fab. Carry his water to th' wise woman

Mar. Marry and it shall be done to morrow morning if I liue. My Lady would not loose him for more then ile say

Mal. How now mistris? Mar. Oh Lord

To. Prethee hold thy peace, this is not the way: Doe you not see you moue him? Let me alone with him

Fa. No way but gentlenesse, gently, gently: the Fiend is rough, and will not be roughly vs'd

To. Why how now my bawcock? how dost y chuck? Mal. Sir

To. I biddy, come with me. What man, tis not for grauity to play at cherrie-pit with sathan Hang him foul Colliar

Mar. Get him to say his prayers, good sir Toby gette him to pray

Mal. My prayers Minx

Mar. No I warrant you, he will not heare of godlynesse

Mal. Go hang your selues all: you are ydle shallowe things, I am not of your element, you shall knowe more heereafter.

Exit

To. Ist possible? Fa. If this were plaid vpon a stage now, I could condemne it as an improbable fiction

To. His very genius hath taken the infection of the deuice man

Mar. Nay pursue him now, least the deuice take ayre, and taint

Fa. Why we shall make him mad indeede

Mar. The house will be the quieter

To. Come, wee'l haue him in a darke room & bound. My Neece is already in the beleefe that he's mad: we may carry it thus for our pleasure, and his pennance, til our very pastime tyred out of breath, prompt vs to haue mercy on him: at which time, we wil bring the deuice to the bar and crowne thee for a finder of madmen: but see, but see. Enter Sir Andrew.

Fa. More matter for a May morning

An. Heere's the Challenge, reade it: I warrant there's vinegar and pepper in't

Fab. Ist so sawcy? And. I, ist? I warrant him: do but read

To. Giue me. Youth, whatsoeuer thou art, thou art but a scuruy fellow

Fa. Good, and valiant

To. Wonder not, nor admire not in thy minde why I doe call thee so, for I will shew thee no reason for't

Fa. A good note, that keepes you from the blow of y Law To. Thou comst to the Lady Oliuia, and in my sight she vses thee kindly: but thou lyest in thy throat, that is not the matter I challenge thee for

Fa. Very breefe, and to exceeding good sence-lesse

To. I will way-lay thee going home, where if it be thy chance to kill me

Fa. Good

To. Thou kilst me like a rogue and a villaine

Fa. Still you keepe o'th windie side of the Law: good

Tob. Fartheewell, and God haue mercie vpon one of our soules. He may haue mercie vpon mine, but my hope is better, and so looke to thy selfe. Thy friend as thou vsest him, & thy sworne enemie, Andrew Ague-cheeke

To. If this Letter moue him not, his legges cannot: Ile giu't him

Mar. You may haue verie fit occasion for't: he is now in some commerce with my Ladie, and will by and by depart

To. Go sir Andrew: scout mee for him at the corner of the Orchard like a bum-Baylie: so soone as euer thou seest him, draw, and as thou draw'st, sweare horrible: for it comes to passe oft, that a terrible oath, with a swaggering accent sharpely twang'd off, giues manhoode more approbation, then euer proofe it selfe would haue earn'd him. Away

And. Nay let me alone for swearing.

Exit

To. Now will not I deliuer his Letter: for the behauiour of the yong Gentleman, giues him out to be of good capacity, and breeding: his employment betweene his Lord and my Neece, confirmes no lesse. Therefore, this Letter being so excellently ignorant, will breed no terror in the youth: he will finde it comes from a Clodde-pole. But sir, I will deliuer his Challenge by word of mouth; set vpon Ague-cheeke a notable report of valor, and driue the Gentleman (as I know his youth will aptly receiue it) into a most hideous opinion of his rage, skill, furie, and impetuositie. This will so fright them both, that they wil kill one another by the looke, like Cockatrices. Enter Oliuia and Viola.

Fab. Heere he comes with your Neece, giue them way till he take leaue, and presently after him

To. I wil meditate the while vpon some horrid message for a Challenge

Ol. I haue said too much vnto a hart of stone, And laid mine honour too vnchary on't: There's something in me that reproues my fault: But such a head-strong potent fault it is, That it but mockes reproofe

Vio. With the same hauiour that your passion beares, Goes on my Masters greefes

Ol. Heere, weare this Iewell for me, tis my picture: Refuse it not, it hath no tongue, to vex you: And I beseech you come againe to morrow. What shall you aske of me that Ile deny, That honour (sau'd) may vpon asking giue

Vio. Nothing but this, your true loue for my master

Ol. How with mine honor may I giue him that, Which I haue giuen to you

Vio. I will acquit you

Ol. Well, come againe to morrow: far-thee-well, A Fiend like thee might beare my soule to hell. Enter Toby and Fabian.

To. Gentleman, God saue thee

Vio. And you sir

To. That defence thou hast, betake the too't: of what nature the wrongs are thou hast done him, I knowe not: but thy intercepter full of despight, bloody as the Hunter, attends thee at the Orchard end: dismount thy tucke, be yare in thy preparation, for thy assaylant is quick, skilfull, and deadly

Vio. You mistake sir I am sure, no man hath any quarrell to me: my remembrance is very free and cleere from any image of offence done to any man

To. You'l finde it otherwise I assure you: therefore, if you hold your life at any price, betake you to your gard: for your opposite hath in him what youth, strength, skill, and wrath, can furnish man withall

Vio. I pray you sir what is he? To. He is knight dubb'd with vnhatch'd Rapier, and on carpet consideration, but he is a diuell in priuate brall, soules and bodies hath he diuorc'd three, and his incensement at this moment is so implacable, that satisfaction can be none, but by pangs of death and sepulcher: Hob, nob, is his word: giu't or take't

Vio. I will returne againe into the house, and desire some conduct of the Lady. I am no fighter, I haue heard of some kinde of men, that put quarrells purposely on others, to taste their valour: belike this is a man of that quirke

To. Sir, no: his indignation deriues it selfe out of a very computent iniurie, therefore get you on, and giue him his desire. Backe you shall not to the house, vnlesse you vndertake that with me, which with as much safetie you might answer him: therefore on, or strippe your sword starke naked: for meddle you must that's certain, or forsweare to weare iron about you

Vio. This is as vnciuill as strange. I beseech you doe me this courteous office, as to know of the Knight what my offence to him is: it is something of my negligence, nothing of my purpose

To. I will doe so. Signiour Fabian, stay you by this Gentleman, till my returne.

Exit Toby.

Vio. Pray you sir, do you know of this matter? Fab. I know the knight is incenst against you, euen to a mortall arbitrement, but nothing of the circumstance more

Vio. I beseech you what manner of man is he? Fab. Nothing of that wonderfull promise to read him by his forme, as you are like to finde him in the proofe of his valour. He is indeede sir, the most skilfull, bloudy, & fatall opposite that you could possibly haue found in anie part of Illyria: will you walke towards him, I will make your peace with him, if I can

Vio. I shall bee much bound to you for't: I am one, that had rather go with sir Priest, then sir knight: I care not who knowes so much of my mettle.

Exeunt.

Enter Toby and Andrew.

To. Why man hee s a verie diuell, I haue not seen such a firago: I had a passe with him, rapier, scabberd, and all: and he giues me the stucke in with such a mortall motion that it is ineuitable: and on the answer, he payes you as surely, as your feete hits the ground they step on. They say, he has bin Fencer to the Sophy

And. Pox on't, Ile not meddle with him

To. I but he will not now be pacified, Fabian can scarse hold him yonder

An. Plague on't, and I thought he had beene valiant, and so cunning in Fence, I'de haue seene him damn'd ere I'de haue challeng'd him. Let him let the matter slip, and Ile giue him my horse, gray Capilet

To. Ile make the motion: stand heere, make a good shew on't, this shall end without the perdition of soules, marry Ile ride your horse as well as I ride you. Enter Fabian and Viola.

I haue his horse to take vp the quarrell, I haue perswaded him the youths a diuell

Fa. He is as horribly conceited of him: and pants, & lookes pale, as if a Beare were at his heeles

To. There's no remedie sir, he will fight with you for's oath sake: marrie hee hath better bethought him of his quarrell, and hee findes that now scarse to bee worth talking of: therefore draw for the supportance of his vowe, he protests he will not hurt you

Vio. Pray God defend me: a little thing would make me tell them how much I lacke of a man

Fab. Giue ground if you see him furious

To. Come sir Andrew, there's no remedie, the Gentleman will for his honors sake haue one bowt with you: he cannot by the Duello auoide it: but hee has promised me, as he is a Gentleman and a Soldiour, he will not hurt you. Come on, too't

And. Pray God he keepe his oath. Enter Antonio.

Vio. I do assure you tis against my will

Ant. Put vp your sword: if this yong Gentleman Haue done offence, I take the fault on me: If you offend him, I for him defie you

To. You sir? Why, what are you? Ant. One sir, that for his loue dares yet do more Then you haue heard him brag to you he will

To. Nay, if you be an vndertaker, I am for you. Enter Officers.

Fab. O good sir Toby hold: heere come the Officers

To. Ile be with you anon

Vio. Pray sir, put your sword vp if you please

And. Marry will I sir: and for that I promis'd you Ile be as good as my word. Hee will beare you easily, and raines well

1.Off. This is the man, do thy Office

2.Off. Anthonio, I arrest thee at the suit of Count Orsino An. You do mistake me sir

1.Off. No sir, no iot: I know your fauour well: Though now you haue no sea-cap on your head: Take him away, he knowes I know him well

Ant. I must obey. This comes with seeking you: But there's no remedie, I shall answer it: What will you do: now my necessitie Makes me to aske you for my purse. It greeues mee Much more, for what I cannot do for you, Then what befals my selfe: you stand amaz'd, But be of comfort

2.Off. Come sir away

Ant. I must entreat of you some of that money

Vio. What money sir? For the fayre kindnesse you haue shew'd me heere, And part being prompted by your present trouble, Out of my leane and low ability Ile lend you something: my hauing is not much, Ile make diuision of my present with you: Hold, there's halfe my Coffer

Ant. Will you deny me now, Ist possible that my deserts to you Can lacke perswasion. Do not tempt my misery, Least that it make me so vnsound a man As to vpbraid you with those kindnesses That I haue done for you

Vio. I know of none, Nor know I you by voyce, or any feature: I hate ingratitude more in a man, Then lying, vainnesse, babling drunkennesse, Or any taint of vice, whose strong corruption Inhabites our fraile blood

Ant. Oh heauens themselues

2.Off. Come sir, I pray you go

Ant. Let me speake a little. This youth that you see heere, I snatch'd one halfe out of the iawes of death, Releeu'd him with such sanctitie of loue; And to his image, which me thought did promise Most venerable worth, did I deuotion

1.Off. What's that to vs, the time goes by: Away

Ant. But oh, how vilde an idoll proues this God: Thou hast Sebastian done good feature, shame. In Nature, there's no blemish but the minde: None can be call'd deform'd, but the vnkinde. Vertue is beauty, but the beauteous euill Are empty trunkes, ore-flourish'd by the deuill

1.Off. The man growes mad, away with him: Come, come sir

Ant. Leade me on.

Exit

Vio. Me thinkes his words do from such passion flye That he beleeues himselfe, so do not I: Proue true imagination, oh proue true, That I deere brother, be now tane for you

To. Come hither Knight, come hither Fabian: Weel whisper ore a couplet or two of most sage sawes

Vio. He nam'd Sebastian: I my brother know Yet liuing in my glasse: euen such, and so In fauour was my Brother, and he went Still in this fashion, colour, ornament, For him I imitate: Oh if it proue, Tempests are kinde, and salt waues fresh in loue

To. A very dishonest paltry boy, and more a coward then a Hare, his dishonesty appeares, in leauing his frend heere in necessity, and denying him: and for his cowardship aske Fabian

Fab. A Coward, a most deuout Coward, religious in it

And. Slid Ile after him againe, and beate him

To. Do, cuffe him soundly, but neuer draw thy sword And. And I do not

Fab. Come, let's see the euent

To. I dare lay any money, twill be nothing yet.

Exit

Actus Quartus, Scaena prima.

Enter Sebastian and Clowne

Clo. Will you make me beleeue, that I am not sent for you? Seb. Go too, go too, thou art a foolish fellow, Let me be cleere of thee

Clo. Well held out yfaith: No, I do not know you, nor I am not sent to you by my Lady, to bid you come speake with her: nor your name is not Master Cesario, nor this is not my nose neyther: Nothing that is so, is so

Seb. I prethee vent thy folly some-where else, thou know'st not me

Clo. Vent my folly: He has heard that word of some great man, and now applyes it to a foole. Vent my folly: I am affraid this great lubber the World will proue a Cockney: I prethee now vngird thy strangenes, and tell me what I shall vent to my Lady? Shall I vent to hir that thou art comming? Seb. I prethee foolish greeke depart from me, there's money for thee, if you tarry longer, I shall giue worse paiment

Clo. By my troth thou hast an open hand: these Wisemen that giue fooles money, get themselues a good report, after foureteene yeares purchase. Enter Andrew, Toby, and Fabian.

And. Now sir, haue I met you again: ther's for you

Seb. Why there's for thee, and there, and there, Are all the people mad? To. Hold sir, or Ile throw your dagger ore the house Clo. This will I tell my Lady straight, I would not be in some of your coats for two pence

To. Come on sir, hold

An. Nay let him alone, Ile go another way to worke with him: Ile haue an action of Battery against him, if there be any law in Illyria: though I stroke him first, yet it's no matter for that

Seb. Let go thy hand

To. Come sir, I will not let you go. Come my yong souldier put vp your yron: you are well flesh'd: Come on

Seb. I will be free from thee. What wouldst y now? If thou dar'st tempt me further, draw thy sword

To. What, what? Nay then I must haue an Ounce or two of this malapert blood from you. Enter Oliuia.

Ol. Hold Toby, on thy life I charge thee hold

To. Madam

Ol. Will it be euer thus? Vngracious wretch, Fit for the Mountaines, and the barbarous Caues, Where manners nere were preach'd: out of my sight. Be not offended, deere Cesario: Rudesbey be gone. I prethee gentle friend, Let thy fayre wisedome, not thy passion sway In this vnciuill, and vniust extent Against thy peace. Go with me to my house, And heare thou there how many fruitlesse prankes This Ruffian hath botch'd vp, that thou thereby Mayst smile at this: Thou shalt not choose but goe: Do not denie, beshrew his soule for mee, He started one poore heart of mine, in thee

Seb. What rellish is in this? How runs the streame? Or I am mad, or else this is a dreame: Let fancie still my sense in Lethe steepe, If it be thus to dreame, still let me sleepe

Ol. Nay come I prethee, would thoud'st be rul'd by me Seb. Madam, I will

Ol. O say so, and so be.

Exeunt.

Scoena Secunda.

Enter Maria and Clowne.

Mar. Nay, I prethee put on this gown, & this beard, make him beleeue thou art sir Topas the Curate, doe it quickly. Ile call sir Toby the whilst

Clo. Well, Ile put it on, and I will dissemble my selfe in't, and I would I were the first that euer dissembled in in such a gowne. I am not tall enough to become the function well, nor leane enough to bee thought a good Studient: but to be said an honest man and a good houskeeper goes as fairely, as to say, a carefull man, & a great scholler. The Competitors enter. Enter Toby.

To. Ioue blesse thee M[aster]. Parson

Clo. Bonos dies sir Toby: for as the old hermit of Prage that neuer saw pen and inke, very wittily sayd to a Neece of King Gorbodacke, that that is, is: so I being M[aster]. Parson, am M[aster]. Parson; for what is that, but that? and is, but is? To. To him sir Topas

Clow. What hoa, I say, Peace in this prison

To. The knaue counterfets well: a good knaue.

Maluolio within.

Mal. Who cals there? Clo. Sir Topas the Curate, who comes to visit Maluolio the Lunaticke

Mal. Sir Topas, sir Topas, good sir Topas goe to my Ladie

Clo. Out hyperbolicall fiend, how vexest thou this man? Talkest thou nothing but of Ladies? Tob. Well said M[aster]. Parson

Mal. Sir Topas, neuer was man thus wronged, good sir Topas do not thinke I am mad: they haue layde mee heere in hideous darknesse

Clo. Fye, thou dishonest sathan: I call thee by the most modest termes, for I am one of those gentle ones, that will vse the diuell himselfe with curtesie: sayst thou that house is darke? Mal. As hell sir Topas

Clo. Why it hath bay Windowes transparant as baricadoes, and the cleere stores toward the South north, are as lustrous as Ebony: and yet complainest thou of obstruction? Mal. I am not mad sir Topas, I say to you this house is darke

Clo. Madman thou errest: I say there is no darknesse but ignorance, in which thou art more puzel'd then the aegyptians in their fogge

Mal. I say this house is as darke as Ignorance, thogh Ignorance were as darke as hell; and I say there was neuer man thus abus'd, I am no more madde then you are, make the triall of it in any constant question

Clo. What is the opinion of Pythagoras concerning Wilde-fowle? Mal. That the soule of our grandam, might happily inhabite a bird

Clo. What thinkst thou of his opinion? Mal. I thinke nobly of the soule, and no way aproue his opinion

Clo. Fare thee well: remaine thou still in darkenesse, thou shalt hold th' opinion of Pythagoras, ere I will allow of thy wits, and feare to kill a Woodcocke, lest thou dispossesse the soule of thy grandam. Fare thee well

Mal. Sir Topas, sir Topas

Tob. My most exquisite sir Topas

Clo. Nay I am for all waters

Mar. Thou mightst haue done this without thy berd and gowne, he sees thee not

To. To him in thine owne voyce, and bring me word how thou findst him: I would we were well ridde of this knauery. If he may bee conueniently deliuer'd, I would he were, for I am now so farre in offence with my Niece, that I cannot pursue with any safety this sport the vppeshot. Come by and by to my Chamber.

Exit

Clo. Hey Robin, iolly Robin, tell me how thy Lady does

Mal. Foole

Clo. My Lady is vnkind, perdie

Mal. Foole

Clo. Alas why is she so? Mal. Foole, I say

Clo. She loues another. Who calles, ha? Mal. Good foole, as euer thou wilt deserue well at my hand, helpe me to a Candle, and pen, inke, and paper: as I am a Gentleman, I will liue to bee thankefull to thee for't

Clo. M[aster]. Maluolio? Mal. I good Foole

Clo. Alas sir, how fell you besides your fiue witts? Mall. Foole, there was neuer man so notoriouslie abus'd: I am as well in my wits (foole) as thou art

Clo. But as well: then you are mad indeede, if you be no better in your wits then a foole

Mal. They haue heere propertied me: keepe mee in darkenesse, send Ministers to me, Asses, and doe all they can to face me out of my wits

Clo. Aduise you what you say: the Minister is heere. Maluolio, Maluolio, thy wittes the heauens restore: endeauour thy selfe to sleepe, and leaue thy vaine bibble babble

Mal. Sir Topas

Clo. Maintaine no words with him good fellow. Who I sir, not I sir. God buy you good sir Topas: Marry Amen. I will sir, I will

Mal. Foole, foole, foole I say

Clo. Alas sir be patient. What say you sir, I am shent for speaking to you

Mal. Good foole, helpe me to some light, and some paper, I tell thee I am as well in my wittes, as any man in Illyria

Clo. Well-a-day, that you were sir

Mal. By this hand I am: good foole, some inke, paper, and light: and conuey what I will set downe to my Lady: it shall aduantage thee more, then euer the bearing of Letter did

Clo. I will help you too't. But tel me true, are you not mad indeed, or do you but counterfeit

Mal. Beleeue me I am not, I tell thee true

Clo. Nay, Ile nere beleeue a madman till I see his brains I will fetch you light, and paper, and inke

Mal. Foole, Ile requite it in the highest degree: I prethee be gone

Clo. I am gone sir, and anon sir, Ile be with you againe: In a trice, like to the old vice, your neede to sustaine. Who with dagger of lath, in his rage and his wrath, cries ah ha, to the diuell: Like a mad lad, paire thy nayles dad, Adieu good man diuell.

Exit

Scaena Tertia.

Enter Sebastian.

This is the ayre, that is the glorious Sunne, This pearle she gaue me, I do feel't, and see't, And though tis wonder that enwraps me thus, Yet 'tis not madnesse. Where's Anthonio then, I could not finde him at the Elephant, Yet there he was, and there I found this credite, That he did range the towne to seeke me out, His councell now might do me golden seruice, For though my soule disputes well with my sence, That this may be some error, but no madnesse, Yet doth this accident and flood of Fortune, So farre exceed all instance, all discourse, That I am readie to distrust mine eyes, And wrangle with my reason that perswades me To any other trust, but that I am mad, Or else the Ladies mad; yet if 'twere so, She could not sway her house, command her followers, Take, and giue backe affayres, and their dispatch, With such a smooth, discreet, and stable bearing As I perceiue she do's: there's something in't That is deceiueable. But heere the Lady comes. Enter Oliuia, and Priest.

Ol. Blame not this haste of mine: if you meane well Now go with me, and with this holy man Into the Chantry by: there before him, And vnderneath that consecrated roofe, Plight me the full assurance of your faith, That my most iealious, and too doubtfull soule May liue at peace. He shall conceale it, Whiles you are willing it shall come to note, What time we will our celebration keepe According to my birth, what do you say? Seb. Ile follow this good man, and go with you, And hauing sworne truth, euer will be true

Ol. Then lead the way good father, & heauens so shine, That they may fairely note this acte of mine.

Exeunt.

Finis Actus Quartus.

Actus Quintus. Scena Prima.

Enter Clowne and Fabian.

Fab. Now as thou lou'st me, let me see his Letter

Clo. Good M[aster]. Fabian, grant me another request

Fab. Any thing

Clo. Do not desire to see this Letter

Fab. This is to giue a dogge, and in recompence desire my dogge againe. Enter Duke, Viola, Curio, and Lords.

Duke. Belong you to the Lady Oliuia, friends? Clo. I sir, we are some of her trappings

Duke. I know thee well: how doest thou my good Fellow? Clo. Truely sir, the better for my foes, and the worse for my friends

Du. Iust the contrary: the better for thy friends

Clo. No sir, the worse

Du. How can that be? Clo. Marry sir, they praise me, and make an asse of me, now my foes tell me plainly, I am an Asse: so that by my foes sir, I profit in the knowledge of my selfe, and by my friends I am abused: so that conclusions to be as kisses, if your foure negatiues make your two affirmatiues, why then the worse for my friends, and the better for my foes

Du. Why this is excellent

Clo. By my troth sir, no: though it please you to be one of my friends

Du. Thou shalt not be the worse for me, there's gold

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

Du. O you giue me ill counsell

Clo. Put your grace in your pocket sir, for this once, and let your flesh and blood obey it

Du. 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 olde saying is, the third payes for all: the triplex sir, is a good tripping measure, or the belles of S[aint]. Bennet sir, may put you in minde, one, two, three

Du. You can foole no more money out of mee 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 further

Clo. Marry sir, lullaby to your bountie till I come agen. I go sir, but I would not haue you to thinke, that my desire of hauing is the sinne of couetousnesse: but as you say sir, let your bounty take a nappe, I will awake it anon.

Exit

Enter Anthonio and Officers.

Vio. Here comes the man sir, that did rescue mee

Du. That face of his I do remember well, Yet when I saw it last, it was besmear'd As blacke as Vulcan, in the smoake of warre: A bawbling Vessell was he Captaine of, For shallow draught and bulke vnprizable, With which such scathfull grapple did he make, With the most noble bottome of our Fleete, That very enuy, and the tongue of losse Cride fame and honor on him: What's the matter? 1.Offi. Orsino, this is that Anthonio That tooke the Phoenix, and her fraught from Candy, And this is he that did the Tiger boord, When your yong Nephew Titus lost his legge; Heere in the streets, desperate of shame and state, In priuate brabble did we apprehend him

Vio. He did me kindnesse sir, drew on my side, But in conclusion put strange speech vpon me, I know not what 'twas, but distraction

Du. Notable Pyrate, thou salt-water Theefe, What foolish boldnesse brought thee to their mercies, Whom thou in termes so bloudie, and so deere Hast made thine enemies? Ant. Orsino: Noble sir, Be pleas'd that I shake off these names you giue mee: Anthonio neuer yet was Theefe, or Pyrate, Though I confesse, on base and ground enough Orsino's enemie. A witchcraft drew me hither: That most ingratefull boy there by your side, From the rude seas enrag'd and foamy mouth Did I redeeme: a wracke past hope he was: His life I gaue him, and did thereto adde My loue without retention, or restraint, All his in dedication. For his sake, Did I expose my selfe (pure for his loue) Into the danger of this aduerse Towne, 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 twentie yeeres remoued thing While one would winke: denide me mine owne purse, Which I had recommended to his vse, Not halfe an houre before

Vio. How can this be? Du. When came he to this Towne? Ant. To day my Lord: and for three months before, No intrim, not a minutes vacancie, Both day and night did we keepe companie. Enter Oliuia and attendants.

Du. Heere comes the Countesse, now heauen walkes on earth: But for thee fellow, fellow thy words are madnesse, Three monthes this youth hath tended vpon mee, But more of that anon. Take him aside

Ol. What would my Lord, but that he may not haue, Wherein Oliuia may seeme seruiceable? Cesario, you do not keepe promise with me

Vio. Madam: Du. Gracious Oliuia

Ol. What do you say Cesario? Good my Lord

Vio. My Lord would speake, my dutie hushes me

Ol. If it be ought to the old tune my Lord, It is as fat and fulsome to mine eare As howling after Musicke

Du. Still so cruell? Ol. Still so constant Lord

Du. What to peruersenesse? you vnciuill Ladie To whose ingrate, and vnauspicious Altars My soule the faithfull'st offrings haue breath'd out That ere deuotion tender'd. What shall I do? Ol. Euen what it please my Lord, that shal becom him Du. Why should I not, (had I the heart to do it) Like to th' Egyptian theefe, at point of death Kill what I loue: (a sauage iealousie, That sometime sauours nobly) but heare me this: Since you to non-regardance cast my faith, And that I partly know the instrument That screwes me from my true place in your fauour: Liue you the Marble-brested Tirant still. But this your Minion, whom I know you loue, And whom, by heauen I sweare, I tender deerely, Him will I teare out of that cruell eye, Where he sits crowned in his masters spight. Come boy with me, my thoughts are ripe in mischiefe: Ile sacrifice the Lambe that I do loue, To spight a Rauens heart within a Doue

Vio. And I most iocund, apt, and willinglie, To do you rest, a thousand deaths would dye

Ol. Where goes Cesario? Vio. After him I loue, More then I loue these eyes, more then my life, More by all mores, then ere I shall loue wife. If I do feigne, you witnesses aboue Punish my life, for tainting of my loue

Ol. Aye me detested, how am I beguil'd? Vio. Who does beguile you? who does do you wrong? Ol. Hast thou forgot thy selfe? Is it so long? Call forth the holy Father

Du. Come, away

Ol. Whether my Lord? Cesario, Husband, stay

Du. Husband? Ol. I Husband. Can he that deny? Du. Her husband, sirrah? Vio. No my Lord, not I

Ol. Alas, it is the basenesse of thy feare, That makes thee strangle thy propriety: Feare not Cesario, take thy fortunes vp, Be that thou know'st thou art, and then thou art As great as that thou fear'st. Enter Priest.

O welcome Father: Father, I charge thee by thy reuerence Heere to vnfold, though lately we intended To keepe in darkenesse, what occasion now Reueales before 'tis ripe: what thou dost know Hath newly past, betweene this youth, and me

Priest. A Contract of eternall bond of loue, Confirm'd by mutuall ioynder of your hands, Attested by the holy close of lippes, Strengthned by enterchangement of your rings, And all the Ceremonie of this compact Seal'd in my function, by my testimony: Since when, my watch hath told me, toward my graue I haue trauail'd but two houres

Du. O thou dissembling Cub: what wilt thou be When time hath sow'd a grizzle on thy case? Or will not else thy craft so quickely grow, That thine owne trip shall be thine ouerthrow: Farewell, and take her, but direct thy feete, Where thou, and I (henceforth) may neuer meet

Vio. My Lord, I do protest

Ol. O do not sweare, Hold little faith, though thou hast too much feare. Enter Sir Andrew.

And. For the loue of God a Surgeon, send one presently to sir Toby

Ol. What's the matter? And. H'as broke my head acrosse, and has giuen Sir Toby a bloody Coxcombe too: for the loue of God your helpe, I had rather then forty pound I were at home

Ol. Who has done this sir Andrew? And. The Counts Gentleman, one Cesario: we tooke him for a Coward, but hee's the verie diuell, incardinate

Du. My Gentleman Cesario? And. Odd's lifelings heere he is: you broke my head for nothing, and that that I did, I was set on to do't by sir Toby

Vio. Why do you speake to me, I neuer hurt you: You drew your sword vpon me without cause, But I bespake you faire, and hurt you not. Enter Toby and Clowne.

And. If a bloody coxcombe be a hurt, you haue hurt me: I thinke you set nothing by a bloody Coxecombe. Heere comes sir Toby halting, you shall heare more: but if he had not beene in drinke, hee would haue tickel'd you other gates then he did

Du. How now Gentleman? how ist with you? To. That's all one, has hurt me, and there's th' end on't: Sot, didst see Dicke Surgeon, sot? Clo. O he's drunke sir Toby an houre agone: his eyes were set at eight i'th morning

To. Then he's a Rogue, and a passy measures pauyn: I hate a drunken rogue

Ol. Away with him? Who hath made this hauocke with them? And. Ile helpe you sir Toby, because we'll be drest together

To. Will you helpe an Asse-head, and a coxcombe, & a knaue: a thin fac'd knaue, a gull? Ol. Get him to bed, and let his hurt be look'd too. Enter Sebastian.

Seb. I am sorry Madam I haue hurt your kinsman: But had it beene the brother of my blood, I must haue done no lesse with wit and safety. You throw a strange regard vpon me, and by that I do perceiue it hath offended you: Pardon me (sweet one) euen for the vowes We made each other, but so late ago

Du. One face, one voice, one habit, and two persons, A naturall Perspectiue, that is, and is not

Seb. Anthonio: O my deere Anthonio, How haue the houres rack'd, and tortur'd me, Since I haue lost thee? Ant. Sebastian are you? Seb. Fear'st thou that Anthonio? Ant. How haue you made diuision of your selfe, An apple cleft in two, is not more twin Then these two creatures. Which is Sebastian? Ol. Most wonderfull

Seb. Do I stand there? I neuer had a brother: Nor can there be that Deity in my nature Of heere, and euery where. I had a sister, Whom the blinde waues and surges haue deuour'd: Of charity, what kinne are you to me? What Countreyman? What name? What Parentage? Vio. Of Messaline: Sebastian was my Father, Such a Sebastian was my brother too: So went he suited to his watery tombe: If spirits can assume both forme and suite, You come to fright vs

Seb. A spirit I am indeed, But am in that dimension grossely clad, Which from the wombe I did participate. Were you a woman, as the rest goes euen, I should my teares let fall vpon your cheeke, And say, thrice welcome drowned Viola

Vio. My father had a moale vpon his brow

Seb. And so had mine

Vio. And dide that day when Viola from her birth Had numbred thirteene yeares

Seb. O that record is liuely in my soule, He finished indeed his mortall acte That day that made my sister thirteene yeares

Vio. If nothing lets to make vs happie both, But this my masculine vsurp'd attyre: Do not embrace me, till each circumstance, Of place, time, fortune, do cohere and iumpe That I am Viola, which to confirme, Ile bring you to a Captaine in this Towne, Where lye my maiden weeds: by whose gentle helpe, I was preseru'd to serue this Noble Count: All the occurrence of my fortune since Hath beene betweene this Lady, and this Lord

Seb. So comes it Lady, you haue beene mistooke: But Nature to her bias drew in that. You would haue bin contracted to a Maid, Nor are you therein (by my life) deceiu'd, You are betroth'd both to a maid and man

Du. Be not amaz'd, right noble is his blood: If this be so, as yet the glasse seemes true, I shall haue share in this most happy wracke, Boy, thou hast saide to me a thousand times, Thou neuer should'st loue woman like to me

Vio. And all those sayings, will I ouer sweare, And all those swearings keepe as true in soule, As doth that Orbed Continent, the fire, That seuers day from night

Du. Giue me thy hand, And let me see thee in thy womans weedes

Vio. The Captaine that did bring me first on shore Hath my Maides garments: he vpon some Action Is now in durance, at Maluolio's suite, a Gentleman, and follower of my Ladies

Ol. He shall inlarge him: fetch Maluolio hither, And yet alas, now I remember me, They say poore Gentleman, he's much distract. Enter Clowne with a Letter, and Fabian.

A most extracting frensie of mine owne From my remembrance, clearly banisht his. How does he sirrah? Cl. Truely Madam, he holds Belzebub at the staues end as well as a man in his case may do: has heere writ a letter to you, I should haue giuen't you to day morning. But as a madmans Epistles are no Gospels, so it skilles not much when they are deliuer'd

Ol. Open't, and read it

Clo. Looke then to be well edified, when the Foole deliuers the Madman. By the Lord Madam

Ol. How now, art thou mad? Clo. No Madam, I do but reade madnesse: and your Ladyship will haue it as it ought to bee, you must allow Vox

Ol. Prethee reade i'thy right wits

Clo. So I do Madona: but to reade his right wits, is to reade thus: therefore, perpend my Princesse, and giue eare

Ol. Read it you, sirrah

Fab. Reads. By the Lord Madam, you wrong me, and the world shall know it: Though you haue put mee into darkenesse, and giuen your drunken Cosine rule ouer me, yet haue I the benefit of my senses as well as your Ladieship. I haue your owne letter, that induced mee to the semblance I put on; with the which I doubt not, but to do my selfe much right, or you much shame: thinke of me as you please. I leaue my duty a little vnthought of, and speake out of my iniury. The madly vs'd Maluolio

Ol. Did he write this? Clo. I Madame

Du. This sauours not much of distraction

Ol. See him deliuer'd Fabian, bring him hither: My Lord, so please you, these things further thought on, To thinke me as well a sister, as a wife, One day shall crowne th' alliance on't, so please you, Heere at my house, and at my proper cost

Du. Madam, I am most apt t' embrace your offer: Your Master quits you: and for your seruice done him, So much against the mettle of your sex, So farre beneath your soft and tender breeding, And since you call'd me Master, for so long: Heere is my hand, you shall from this time bee Your Masters Mistris

Ol. A sister, you are she. Enter Maluolio.

Du. Is this the Madman? Ol. I my Lord, this same: How now Maluolio? Mal. Madam, you haue done me wrong, Notorious wrong

Ol. Haue I Maluolio? No

Mal. Lady you haue, pray you peruse that Letter. You must not now denie it is your hand, Write from it if you can, in hand, or phrase, Or say, tis not your seale, not your inuention: You can say none of this. Well, grant it then, And tell me in the modestie of honor, Why you haue giuen me such cleare lights of fauour, Bad me come smiling, and crosse-garter'd to you, To put on yellow stockings, and to frowne Vpon sir Toby, and the lighter people: And acting this in an obedient hope, Why haue you suffer'd me to be imprison'd, Kept in a darke house, visited by the Priest, And made the most notorious gecke and gull, That ere inuention plaid on? Tell me why? Ol. Alas Maluolio, this is not my writing, Though I confesse much like the Charracter: But out of question, tis Marias hand. And now I do bethinke me, it was shee First told me thou wast mad; then cam'st in smiling, And in such formes, which heere were presuppos'd Vpon thee in the Letter: prethee be content, This practice hath most shrewdly past vpon thee: But when we know the grounds, and authors of it, Thou shalt be both the Plaintiffe and the Iudge Of thine owne cause

Fab. Good Madam heare me speake, And let no quarrell, nor no braule to come, Taint the condition of this present houre, Which I haue wondred at. In hope it shall not, Most freely I confesse my selfe, and Toby Set this deuice against Maluolio heere, Vpon some stubborne and vncourteous parts We had conceiu'd against him. Maria writ The Letter, at sir Tobyes great importance, In recompence whereof, he hath married her: How with a sportfull malice it was follow'd, May rather plucke on laughter then reuenge, If that the iniuries be iustly weigh'd, That haue on both sides past

Ol. Alas poore Foole, how haue they baffel'd thee? Clo. Why some are borne great, some atchieue greatnesse, and some haue greatnesse throwne vpon them. I was one sir, in this Enterlude, one sir Topas sir, but that's all one: By the Lord Foole, I am not mad: but do you remember, Madam, why laugh you at such a barren rascall, and you smile not he's gag'd: and thus the whirlegigge of time, brings in his reuenges

Mal. Ile be reueng'd on the whole packe of you? Ol. He hath bene most notoriously abus'd

Du. Pursue him, and entreate him to a peace: He hath not told vs of the Captaine yet, When that is knowne, and golden time conuents A solemne Combination shall be made Of our deere soules. Meane time sweet sister, We will not part from hence. Cesario come (For so you shall be while you are a man:) But when in other habites you are seene, Orsino's Mistris, and his fancies Queene.

Exeunt.

Clowne sings . When that I was and a little tine boy, with hey, ho, the winde and the raine: A foolish thing was but a toy, for the raine it raineth euery day. But when I came to mans estate, with hey ho, &c. Gainst Knaues and Theeues men shut their gate, for the raine, &c. But when I came alas to wiue, with hey ho, &c. By swaggering could I neuer thriue, for the raine, &c. But when I came vnto my beds, with hey ho, &c. With tospottes still had drunken heades, for the raine, &c. A great while ago the world begon, hey ho, &c. But that's all one, our Play is done, and wee'l striue to please you euery day.

FINIS. Twelfe Night, Or what you will.

The Winters Tale

Actus Primus. Scoena Prima.

Enter Camillo and Archidamus.

Arch. If you shall chance (Camillo) to visit Bohemia, on the like occasion whereon my seruices are now on-foot, you shall see (as I haue said) great difference betwixt our Bohemia, and your Sicilia

Cam. I thinke, this comming Summer, the King of Sicilia meanes to pay Bohemia the Visitation, which hee iustly owes him

Arch. Wherein our Entertainment shall shame vs: we will be iustified in our Loues: for indeed- Cam. 'Beseech you- Arch. Verely I speake it in the freedome of my knowledge: we cannot with such magnificence- in so rare- I know not what to say- Wee will giue you sleepie Drinkes, that your Sences (vn-intelligent of our insufficience) may, though they cannot prayse vs, as little accuse vs

Cam. You pay a great deale to deare, for what's giuen freely

Arch. 'Beleeue me, I speake as my vnderstanding instructs me, and as mine honestie puts it to vtterance

Cam. Sicilia cannot shew himselfe ouer-kind to Bohemia: They were trayn'd together in their Childhoods; and there rooted betwixt them then such an affection, which cannot chuse but braunch now. Since their more mature Dignities, and Royall Necessities, made seperation of their Societie, their Encounters (though not Personall) hath been Royally attornyed with enter-change of Gifts, Letters, louing Embassies, that they haue seem'd to be together, though absent: shooke hands, as ouer a Vast; and embrac'd as it were from the ends of opposed Winds. The Heauens continue their Loues

Arch. I thinke there is not in the World, either Malice or Matter, to alter it. You haue an vnspeakable comfort of your young Prince Mamillius: it is a Gentleman of the greatest Promise, that euer came into my Note

Cam. I very well agree with you, in the hopes of him: it is a gallant Child; one, that (indeed) Physicks the Subiect, makes old hearts fresh: they that went on Crutches ere he was borne, desire yet their life, to see him a Man

Arch. Would they else be content to die? Cam. Yes; if there were no other excuse, why they should desire to liue

Arch. If the King had no Sonne, they would desire to liue on Crutches till he had one.

Exeunt.

Scoena Secunda.

Enter Leontes, Hermione, Mamillius, Polixenes, Camillo.

Pol. Nine Changes of the Watry-Starre hath been The Shepheards Note, since we haue left our Throne Without a Burthen: Time as long againe Would be fill'd vp (my Brother) with our Thanks, And yet we should, for perpetuitie, Goe hence in debt: And therefore, like a Cypher (Yet standing in rich place) I multiply With one we thanke you, many thousands moe, That goe before it

Leo. Stay your Thanks a while, And pay them when you part

Pol. Sir, that's to morrow: I am question'd by my feares, of what may chance, Or breed vpon our absence, that may blow No sneaping Winds at home, to make vs say, This is put forth too truly: besides, I haue stay'd To tyre your Royaltie

Leo. We are tougher (Brother) Then you can put vs to't

Pol. No longer stay

Leo. One Seue' night longer

Pol. Very sooth, to morrow

Leo. Wee'le part the time betweene's then: and in that Ile no gaine-saying

Pol. Presse me not ('beseech you) so: There is no Tongue that moues; none, none i'th' World So soone as yours, could win me: so it should now, Were there necessitie in your request, although 'Twere needfull I deny'd it. My Affaires Doe euen drag me home-ward: which to hinder, Were (in your Loue) a Whip to me; my stay, To you a Charge, and Trouble: to saue both, Farewell (our Brother.) Leo. Tongue-ty'd our Queene? speake you

Her. I had thought (Sir) to haue held my peace, vntill You had drawne Oathes from him, not to stay: you (Sir) Charge him too coldly. Tell him, you are sure All in Bohemia's well: this satisfaction, The by-gone-day proclaym'd, say this to him, He's beat from his best ward

Leo. Well said, Hermione

Her. To tell, he longs to see his Sonne, were strong: But let him say so then, and let him goe; But let him sweare so, and he shall not stay, Wee'l thwack him hence with Distaffes. Yet of your Royall presence, Ile aduenture The borrow of a Weeke. When at Bohemia You take my Lord, Ile giue him my Commission, To let him there a Moneth, behind the Gest Prefix'd for's parting: yet (good-deed) Leontes, I loue thee not a Iarre o'th' Clock, behind What Lady she her Lord. You'le stay? Pol. No, Madame

Her. Nay, but you will? Pol. I may not verely

Her. Verely? You put me off with limber Vowes: but I, Though you would seek t' vnsphere the Stars with Oaths, Should yet say, Sir, no going: Verely You shall not goe; a Ladyes Verely 'is As potent as a Lords. Will you goe yet? Force me to keepe you as a Prisoner, Not like a Guest: so you shall pay your Fees When you depart, and saue your Thanks. How say you? My Prisoner? or my Guest? by your dread Verely, One of them you shall be

Pol. Your Guest then, Madame: To be your Prisoner, should import offending; Which is for me, lesse easie to commit, Then you to punish

Her. Not your Gaoler then, But your kind Hostesse. Come, Ile question you Of my Lords Tricks, and yours, when you were Boyes: You were pretty Lordings then? Pol. We were (faire Queene) Two Lads, that thought there was no more behind, But such a day to morrow, as to day, And to be Boy eternall

Her. Was not my Lord The veryer Wag o'th' two? Pol. We were as twyn'd Lambs, that did frisk i'th' Sun, And bleat the one at th' other: what we chang'd, Was Innocence, for Innocence: we knew not The Doctrine of ill-doing, nor dream'd That any did: Had we pursu'd that life, And our weake Spirits ne're been higher rear'd With stronger blood, we should haue answer'd Heauen Boldly, not guilty; the Imposition clear'd, Hereditarie ours

Her. By this we gather You haue tript since

Pol. O my most sacred Lady, Temptations haue since then been borne to's: for In those vnfledg'd dayes, was my Wife a Girle; Your precious selfe had then not cross'd the eyes Of my young Play-fellow

Her. Grace to boot: Of this make no conclusion, least you say Your Queene and I are Deuils: yet goe on, Th' offences we haue made you doe, wee'le answere, If you first sinn'd with vs: and that with vs You did continue fault; and that you slipt not With any, but with vs

Leo. Is he woon yet? Her. Hee'le stay (my Lord.) Leo. At my request, he would not: Hermione (my dearest) thou neuer spoak'st To better purpose

Her. Neuer? Leo. Neuer, but once

Her. What? haue I twice said well? when was't before? I prethee tell me: cram's with prayse, and make's As fat as tame things: One good deed, dying tonguelesse, Slaughters a thousand, wayting vpon that. Our prayses are our Wages. You may ride's With one soft Kisse a thousand Furlongs, ere With Spur we heat an Acre. But to th' Goale: My last good deed, was to entreat his stay. What was my first? it ha's an elder Sister, Or I mistake you: O, would her Name were Grace. But once before I spoke to th' purpose? when? Nay, let me haue't: I long

Leo. Why, that was when Three crabbed Moneths had sowr'd themselues to death, Ere I could make thee open thy white Hand: A clap thy selfe, my Loue; then didst thou vtter, I am yours for euer

Her. 'Tis Grace indeed. Why lo-you now; I haue spoke to th' purpose twice: The one, for euer earn'd a Royall Husband; Th' other, for some while a Friend

Leo. Too hot, too hot: To mingle friendship farre, is mingling bloods. I haue Tremor Cordis on me: my heart daunces, But not for ioy; not ioy. This Entertainment May a free face put on: deriue a Libertie From Heartinesse, from Bountie, fertile Bosome, And well become the Agent: 't may; I graunt: But to be padling Palmes, and pinching Fingers, As now they are, and making practis'd Smiles As in a Looking-Glasse; and then to sigh, as 'twere The Mort o'th' Deere: oh, that is entertainment My Bosome likes not, nor my Browes. Mamillius, Art thou my Boy? Mam. I, my good Lord

Leo. I'fecks: Why that's my Bawcock: what? has't smutch'd thy Nose? They say it is a Coppy out of mine. Come Captaine, We must be neat; not neat, but cleanly, Captaine: And yet the Steere, the Heycfer, and the Calfe, Are all call'd Neat. Still Virginalling Vpon his Palme? How now (you wanton Calfe) Art thou my Calfe? Mam. Yes, if you will (my Lord.) Leo. Thou want'st a rough pash, & the shoots that I haue To be full, like me: yet they say we are Almost as like as Egges; Women say so, (That will say any thing.) But were they false As o're-dy'd Blacks, as Wind, as Waters; false As Dice are to be wish'd, by one that fixes No borne 'twixt his and mine; yet were it true, To say this Boy were like me. Come (Sir Page) Looke on me with your Welkin eye: sweet Villaine, Most dear'st, my Collop: Can thy Dam, may't be Affection? thy Intention stabs the Center. Thou do'st make possible things not so held, Communicat'st with Dreames (how can this be?) With what's vnreall: thou coactiue art, And fellow'st nothing. Then 'tis very credent, Thou may'st co-ioyne with something, and thou do'st, (And that beyond Commission) and I find it, (And that to the infection of my Braines, And hardning of my Browes.) Pol. What meanes Sicilia? Her. He something seemes vnsetled

Pol. How? my Lord? Leo. What cheere? how is't with you, best Brother? Her. You look as if you held a Brow of much distraction: Are you mou'd (my Lord?) Leo. No, in good earnest. How sometimes Nature will betray it's folly? It's tendernesse? and make it selfe a Pastime To harder bosomes? Looking on the Lynes Of my Boyes face, me thoughts I did requoyle Twentie three yeeres, and saw my selfe vn-breech'd, In my greene Veluet Coat; my Dagger muzzel'd, Least it should bite it's Master, and so proue (As Ornaments oft do's) too dangerous: How like (me thought) I then was to this Kernell, This Squash, this Gentleman. Mine honest Friend, Will you take Egges for Money? Mam. No (my Lord) Ile fight