Enter MARIA. Mar. What a catterwauling do you keep here! If my lady have not called up her steward, Malvolio, and bid him turn you out of doors, never trust me. Sir To. My lady's a Cataian, we are politicians; Malvolio's a Peg-a-Ramsey, and Three merry men be we. Am not I consanguineous? am I not of her blood? Tillyvalley,' lady! There dwelt a man in Babylon, lady, lady [Singing. Clo. Beshrew me, the knight's in admirable fooling. Sir And. Ay, he does well enough, if he be disposed, and so do I too; he does it with a better grace, but I do it more natural. Sir To. O, the twelfth day of December,-[Singing. Enter MALVOLIO. Mal. My masters, are you mad? or what are you? Have you no wit, manners, nor honesty, but to gabble like tinkers at this time of night? Do ye make an alehouse of my lady's 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? Sir To. We did keep time, sir, in our catches. up! Sneck Mal. Sir Toby, I must be round with you. My lady bade me tell you, that, though she harbours you as her kinsman, she's nothing allied to your disorders. If you can separate yourself and your misdemeanors, you are welcome to the house; if not, an it would please you to take leave of her, she is very willing to bid you farewell. [9] Three merry men be we, may, perhaps, have originally been taken from the song of Robin Hood and the Tanner. TYRWHITT. Peggy Ramsey is the name of some old song. SIR J. HAWKINS. [1] Tilly-Valley is a hunting phrase borrowed from the French. DOUCE. [2] The ballad of Susanna, from whence this line is taken, was licensed by T. Colwell, in 1562, under the title of The goodly and constant Wyfe Susanna. T. WARTON. [3] A cozier is a tailor, from coudre to sew, part. cousu, Fr JOHNSON. Minshieu tells us, that cozier is a cobler or sowter: and, in Northamptonshire, the waxed thread which a cobler uses in mending shoes, we call a codger's end. WHALLEY. [4] In King Henry IV. P. I. Falstaff says: "The Prince is a Jack, a Sneak-cup,” i. e. one who takes his glass in a sneaking manner. I should not however omit to mention that sneck the door is a northern country expression for latch the door. Mr. Malone and others observe, that from the manner in which this cant phrase is employed in our ancient comedies, it seems to have been synonymous to the modern expression-Go hang yourself STEEVENS Sir To. Farewell, dear heart, since I must needs be gone." Mar. Nay, good sir Toby. Clo. His eyes do shew his days are almost done. Mal. Is't even so? Sir To. But I will never die. Clo. Sir Toby, there you lie. Mal. This is much credit to you. Clo. What an if you do? Sir To. Shall I bid him go, and spare not? Clo. O no, no, no, no, you dare not. [Singing. Sir To. Out o'time? sir, ye lie. Art any more than a steward? Dost thou think, because thou art virtuous, there shall be no more cakes and ale ?6 Clo. Yes, by Saint Anne; and ginger shall be hot i' the mouth too. Sir To. Thou'rt i' the right.-Go, sir, rub your chain with crums :-A stoop of wine, Maria! Mal. Mistress Mary, if you prized my lady's favour at any thing more than contempt, you would not give means for this uncivil rule ; she shall know of it, by this hand. [Exit. Mar. Go, shake your ears. Sir And. 'Twere as good a deed as to drink when a man's a hungry, to challenge him to the field; and then to break promise with him, and make a fool of him. Sir To. Do't, knight; I'll write thee a challenge; or I'll deliver thy indignation to him by word of mouth. Mar. Sweet sir Toby, be patient for to-night; since the youth of the count's was to-day with my lady, she is much out of quiet. For monsieur Malvolio, let me alone with him if I do not gull him into a nayword,' and make him a common recreation, do not think I have wit enough to lie straight in my bed: I know, I can do it. : [5] This entire song, with some variations, is published by Dr. Percy, in the first volume of his Reliques of Ancient English Poetry. STEEVENS. [6] It was the custom on holidays, and saints' days to make cakes in honour of the day. The Puritans called this superstition; and in the next page Maria says, that Malvolio is a kind of Puritan. See Quarlous's Account of Rabbi Busy, Act 1. sc. iii. in B. Jonson's Bartholomew Fair. LETHERLAND. [7] Stewards anciently wore a chain as a mark of superiority over other servants. The best method of cleaning any gilt plate, is by rubbing it with crumbs. See Webster's Dutchess of Malfy, 1623: "Yea, and the chippings of the buttery fly after him, to scouer his gold chain." STEEVENS. JOHNSON. [8] Rule is method of life; so misrule is tumult and riot. [9] A nayword is what has been since called a byeword, a kind of proverbial reproach. STEEVENS. Sir To. Possess us, possess us; tell us something of him. Mar. Marry, sir, sometimes he is a kind of Puritan. Sir And. O, if I thought that, I'd beat him like a dog. Sir To. What, for being a Puritan? thy exquisite reason, dear knight? Sir And. I have no exquisite reason for't, but I have reason good enough. Mar. The devil a Puritan that he is, or any thing constantly but a time pleaser; an affectioned ass,' that cons state without book, and utters it by great swarths: the best persuaded of himself, so crammed, as he thinks, with excellencies, that it is his ground of faith, that all, that look on him, love him; and on that vice in him will my revenge find notable cause to work. Sir To. What wilt thou do? Mar. I will drop in his way some obscure epistles of love; wherein, by the colour of his beard, the shape of his leg, the manner of his gait, the expressure of his eye, forehead, and complexion, he shall find himself most feelingly personated: I can write very like my lady, your niece; on a forgotten matter we can hardly make distinction of our hands. Sir To. Excellent! I smell a device. Sir And. I have't in my nose too. Sir To. He shall think, by the letters that thou wilt drop, that they come from my niece, and that she is in love with him. Mar. My purpose is, indeed, a horse of that colour. Sir And. And your horse now would make him an ass. Mar. Ass, I doubt not. Sir And. O, 'twill be admirable. Mar. Sport royal, I warrant you: I know, my physic will work with him. I will plant you two, and let the fool make a third, where he shall find the letter; observe his construction of it. For this night, to bed, and dream on the event. Farewell. Sir To. Good night, Penthesilea.3 Sir And. Before me, she's a good wench. [Exit. Sir To. She's a beagle, true-bred, and one that adores me; What o'that? [1] Affection'd means affected. STEEVENS. [2] A swarth is as much grass or corn as a mower cuts down at one stroke of his Scythe. STEEVENS. [3] i. e. Amazon. STEEVENS. Sir And. I was adored once too. for more money. -Thou hadst need send Sir And. If I cannot recover your niece, I am a foul way out. Sir To. Send for money, knight; if thou hast her not i' the end, call me Cut.3 Sir And. If I do not, never trust me, take it how you will. Sir To. Come, come; I'll go burn some sack, 'tis too late to go to-bed now: Come, knight; come, knight. [Exeunt. SCENE IV. A Room in the Duke's Palace. Enter Duke, VIOLA, CURIO, and others. Duke. Give me some music : friends: Now, good-morrow, Now, good Cesario, but that piece of song, Cur. He is not here, so please your lordship, that should sing it. Duke. Who was it? Cur. Feste, the jester, my lord; a fool, that the lady Olivia's father took much delight in: he is about the house. Duke. Seek him out, and play the tune the while. [Exit CURIO.-Music. -Come hither, boy; If ever thou shalt love, In the sweet pangs of it, remember me : For, such as I am, all true lovers are ; Unstaid and skittish in all motions else, Save, in the constant image of the creature That is belov'd.-How dost thou like this tune? Vio. It gives a very echo to the seat Where Love is thron'd. Duke Thou dost speak masterly: [3] i. e. call me horse. So, Falstaff in King Henry IV. P. I.: "-spit in my face, eall me horse." Curtal, which occurs in another of our author's plays, (i. e. a horse, whose tail has been docked,) and Cut, were probably synonymous. MALONE. My life upon't, young though thou art, thine eye Hath it not, boy? Vio. A little, by your favour. Duke. What kind of woman is't? Vio. Of your complexion. Duke. She is not worth thee then. What years, i'faith? Vio. About your years, my lord. Duke. Too old, by heaven; Let still the woman take An elder than herself; so wears she to him, So sways she level in her husband's heart. For, boy, however we do praise ourselves, Our fancies are more giddy and unfirm, More longing, wavering, sooner lost and worn, Than women's are. Vio. I think it well, my lord. Duke. Then let thy love be younger than thyself, For women are as roses; whose fair flower, Duke. O fellow, come, the song we had last night : The spinsters and the knitters in the sun, And the free maids' that weave their thread with bones, Do use to chaunt it; it is silly sooth," And dallies with the innocence of love, Like the old age. 6 Clo. Are you ready, sir? SONG. Clo. Come away, come away, death, I am slain by a fair cruel maid. [4] Free is, perhaps, vacant, unengaged, easy in mind. [5] It is plain, simple truth. JOHNSON. 6] The old age is the ages past, the times of simplicity. [Music JOHNSON. JOHNSON. [7] i. e. in a shroud of cypress or cyprus. Thus Autolycus, in The Winter's Tale: "Lawn as white as driven snow, Cyprus black as e'er was crow." There was both black and white cyprus, as there is still black and white crape; and ancient shrouds were always made of the latter. STEEVENS. |