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rescue me.

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me.

Candy,

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me at this throw. If you will let your lady know I am here to speak with her, and (05 bring her along with you, it may awake my bounty further.

Clo. Marry, sir, lullaby to your bounty till I come again. I go, sir, but I would not have you to think that my desire of having is the sin of covetousness; but, as you say, sir, let [s0 your bounty take a nap, I will awake it anon.

[Exit. Enter ANTONIO and OFFICERS. Vio. Here comes the man, sir, that did Duke. That face of his I do remember well, Yet, when I saw it last, it was besmear'd As black as Vulcan in the smoke of war. A bawbling vessel was he captain of,

, With which such scathful grapple did he make With the most noble bottom of our fleet, That very envy and the tongue of loss Cri'd fame and honour on him. What's the

matter? 1. Off. Orsino, this is that Antonio That took the Phenix and her fraught from

ju And thts is he that did the

Tiger board, When your young nephew Titus lost his leg. Here in the streets, desperate of shame and

state, In private brabble did we apprehend him. Dio. He did me kindness, sir, drew on my

side, But in conclusion put strange speech upon I know not what 't was but distraction. Duke. Notable pirate! Thou salt-water

thief ! What foolish boldness brought thee to their

mercies Whom thon, in terms so bloody and so dear, Hast made thine enemies ! Ant.

Orsino, noble sir, Be pleas'd that I shake off these names you

give me.'' Antonio never yet was thief or pirate, Though I confess, on base and ground enough, Orsino's enemy. A witchcraft drew me hither. That most ingrateful boy there by your side, so From the rude sea's enrag'd and foamy mouth Did I redeem. A wreck past hope he was. His life I gave him, and did thereto add My love, without retention or restraint, All his in dedication. For his sake Did I expose myself, pure for his love, Into the danger of this adverse town; Drew to defend him when he was beset; Where being apprehended, his false cunning, Not meaning to partake with me in danger, 90 Taught him to face me out of his acquaintance, And

grew a twenty years removed thing While one would wink; deni'd me mine own

purse,
Which I had recommended to his use
Not half an hour before.
Vio.

How can this be ? 95

Duke. When came he to this town?
Ant. To-day, my lord ; and for three months

before,
No interim, not a minute's vacancy,
Both day and night did we keep company.

Enter OLIVIA and Attendants. Duke. Here comes the countess ; now heaven

walks on earth. But for thee, fellow; fellow, thy words are

madness. Three months this youth hath tended upon me; But more of that anon. Take him aside. Oli. What would my lord, but that he may

not have,
Wherein Olivia may seem serviceable ?
Cesario, you do not keep promise with me.

Vio. Madam!
Duke. Gracious Olivia, -
Oli. What do you say, Cesario? Good my

lord,
Vio. My lord would speak; my duty hushes

Oli. If it be aught to the old tune, my lord, It is as fat and fulsome to mine ear As howling after music. Duke.

Still so cruel ! Oli. Still so constant, lord. Duke. What, to perverseness? You uncivil

lady, To whose ingrate and unauspicious altars My soul the faithfull'st offerings have breath'd

out That e'er devotion tender'd! What shall I do? Oli. Even what it please my lord, that shall

become him. Duke. Why should I not, had I the heart to

do it, Like to the Egyptian thief at point of death, Kill what I love ? -a savage jealousy That sometime savours nobly. But hear me

this : Since you to non-regardance cast my faith, And that I partly know the instrument That screws me from my true place in your

favour, Live you the marble-breasted tyrant still ; But this your minion, whom I know you love, And whom, by heaven I swear, I tender dearly, Him will I'tear out of that cruel eye, Where he sits crowned in his master's spite. Come, boy, with me; my thoughts are ripe in

mischief. I'll sacrifice the lamb that I do love, To spite a raven's heart within a dove. Vio. And I, most jocund, apt, and will

ingly, To do you rest, a thousand deaths would die. Oli. Where goes Cesario ? Vio.

After him I love More than I love these eyes, more than my life, More, by all mores, than e'er I shall love wife. If I do feign, you witnesses above Punish my life for tainting of my love!

Oli. Ay me, detested! How am I beguild ! Vio. Who does beguile you? Who doos do

you wrong?

me.

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Sir To. That's all one. Has hurt me, and there's the end on 't. Sot, didst see Dick sur

geon, sot?

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Oli. Hast thou forgot thyself ? Is it so long ? Call forth the holy father. Duke.

Come, away! Oli. Whither, my lord ? Cesario, husband,

stay: Duke. Husband ! Oli. Ay, husband ! Can he that deny ? Duke. Her husband, sirrah ! Vio

No, my lord, not I. Oli. Alas, it is the baseness of thy fear That makes thee strangle thy propriety. Fear not, Cesario; take thy fortunes up. Be that thou know'st thou art, and then thou

art As great as that thou fear'st.

Enter PRIEST,

O, welcome, father! Father, I charge thee by thy reverence, Here to unfold, though lately we intended 188 To keep in darkness what occasion now Reveals before 't is ripe, what thou dost know Hath newly pass'd between this youth and

Priest. A contract of eternal bond of love, Confirm'd by mutual joinder of your hands, 160 Attested by the holy close of lips, Strength'ned by interchangement of your

rings; And all the ceremony of this compact Seal'd in my function, by my testimony; Since when, my watch hath told me, toward

my grave I have travell'd but two hours. Duke. 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 quickly grow, That thine own trip shall be thine over

throw ? Farewell, and take her ; but direct thy feet Where thou and I henceforth may never meet.

Vio. My lord, I do protest
Oli.

0, do not swear ! Hold little faith, though thou hast too much fear.

Enter SIR ANDREW. Sir And. For the love of God, a surgeon ! 178 Send one presently to Sir Toby.

Oli. What's the matter?

Sir And. Has broke my head across and has given Sir Toby a bloody coxcomb too. For the love of God, your help! I had rather than forty pound I were at home.

Oli. Who has done this, Sir Andrew ? Sir And. The Count's gentleman, Cesario. We took him for a coward, but he's the very devil incardinate. Duke. My gentleman, Cesario ?

Sir And. 'Od's lifelings, here 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 speak to me? I never You drew your sword upon me without cause ; But I bespake you fair, and hurt you not.

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

Sir To. Then he's a rogue, and a passy measures pavin. I hate a drunken rogue.

Oli. Away with him! Who hath made this havoc with them ?

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

Sir To. Will you help? an ass-head and a coxcomb and a knave, a thin-faced knave, a gull!

Oli. Get him to bed, and let his hurt be look'd to.

[Exeunt Clown, Fabian, Sir Toby,

and Sir Andrew.]

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

kinsman;
But, had it been the brother of my blood,
I must have done no less with wit and safety.
You throw a strange regard upon me, and by

that I do perceive it hath offended you. Pardon me, sweet one, even for the vows We made each other but so late ago. Duke. One face, one voice, one habit, and

two persons,
A natural perspective, that is and is not !

Seb. Antonio, O my dear Antonio!
How have the hours rack'd and tortur'd me,
Since I have lost thee!

Ant. Sebastian are you?
Seb.

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

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

Oli, Most wonderful !
Seb. Do I stand there? I never had a

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

vour'd. Of charity, what kin are you to me? What countryman ? What name? What parent

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

A spirit I am indeed;

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But am in that dimension grosaly.clad
Which from the womb I did participate.
Were you a woman, as the rest goes even,
I should

my.

tears let fall upon your cheek, And say, "Thrice welcome, drowned Viola !”

Vio. My father had a mole upon his brow.
Seb. And so had mine.
Vio. And died that day when Viola from her

birth
Had numb’red thirteen years.

Seb. O, that record is lively in my soul ! He finished indeed his mortal act That day that made my sister thirteen years. 985

Vio. If nothing lets to make us happy both But this my masculine usurp'd attire, Do not embrace me till each circumstance

A Of place, time, fortune, do cohere and jump That I am Viola ; which to confirm, I'll bring you to a captain in this town, Where lie my maiden weeds ; by whose gentle

help I was preserv'd to serve this noble count. All the occurrence of my fortune since Hath been between this lady and this lord. 268 Seb. (To Olivia.) So comes it, lady, you have

been mistook; quem But nature to her bias drew in that. You would have been contracted to a maid ; Nor are you therein, by my life, deceiv'd, You are betroth'd both to a maid and man. 270 Duke. Be not amaz’d, right noble is his

blood. If this be so, as yet the glass seems true, I shall have share in this most happy wreck. [To Viola.) Boy, thon hast said to me a thou

sand times Thou never shouldst love woman like to me. 276

Vio. And all those sayings will I over-swear; And all those swearings keep as true in soul As doth that orbed continent the fire That severs day from night. Duke.

Give me thy hand, And let me see thee in thy woman's weeds. 280 Vio. The captain that did bring me first on

shore Hath my maid's garments. He upon some

action Is now in durance, at Malvolio's suit, A gentleman, and follower of my lady's. Oli. He shall enlarge him ; fetch' Malvolio

hither. And yet, alas, now I remember me, They say, poor gentleman, he's much dis

tract. Re-enter Clown with a letter, and FABIAN. A most extracting frenzy of mine own From my remembrance clearly banish'd his. How does he, sirrah ?

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

Oli. Open 't, and read it.
Clo. ook then to be well edified wh the

fool delivers the madman. (Reads.) “By the Lord, madam,"

Oli. How now, art thou mad ?

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

Geral Oli. Prithee, read i' thy right wits. Clo. So I do, madonna; but to read his right wits is to read thus; therefore perpend, my princess, and give ear:

Oli. Read it you, sirrah. [To Fabian.) so

Fab. (Reads.) "By the Lord, madam, you wrong me, and the world shall know it. Though you have put me into darkness and given your drunken cousin rule over me, yet have I the benefit of my senses as well as your ladyship. I have your own letter that induced me to the semblance I put on ; with the which I (sus doubt not but to do myself much right, or you much shame. Think of me as you please. I leave my duty a little unthought of and speak out of my injury.

THE MADLY-us'D MALVOLIO." Oli. Did he write this ? Clo. Ay, madam. Duke. This savours not much of distraction. Oli. See him deliver'd, Fabian; bring him hither.

[Exit Fabian. My lord, so please you, these things further

thought on, To think me as well a sister as a wife, One day shall crown the alliance on 't, so please

you, Here at my house and at my proper cost.

Duke. Madam, I am most apt to embrace [To Viola.] Your master quits you; and for

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

A sister! You are she, Enter MALVOLIO [and FABIAN). Duke. Is this the madman ? Oli,

Ay, my lord, this same. ass How now, Malvolio ! Mal.

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

Have I, Malvolio? No. Mal. Lady, you have. Pray you, peruse that

letter; You must not now deny it is your hand. Write from it, if you can, in hand or phrase ; 340 Or say 't is not your seal, not your invention, You can say none of this. Well, grant it then And tell me, in the modesty of honour, Why you have given me such clear lights of

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

you,
To put on yellow stockings and to frown
Upon Sir Toby and the lighter people;
And, acting this in an obedient hope,
Why have you suffer'd me to be imprison'd,

your offer.

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Kept in a dark house, visited by the priest, 350 And made the most notorious geck and gull That e'er invention play'd on? Tell me why.

Oli. Alas, Malvolio, this is not my writing, Though, I confess, much like the character; But out of question 't is Maria's hand. And now I do bethink me, it was she First told me thou wast mad. Then çam'st in

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

thee; But when we know the grounds and authors of

it, Thou shalt be both the plaintiff and the judge Of thine own cause. Fab:

Good madam, hear me speak,
And let no quarrel nor po brawl to come
Taint the condition of this present hour,
Which I have wond'red at. In hope it shall

not,
Most freely I confess, myself and Toby
Set this device against Malvolio here,
Upon some stubborn and uncourteous parts
We had conceiv'd

against him. Maria writ 370
The letter at Sir Toby's great importance,
In recompense whereof he hath married her.
How with a sportful malice it was follow'd
May rather pluck on laughter than revenge,
If that the injuries be justly weigh'd
That have on both sides pass'd.
Oli. Alas, poor fool, how have they bafi'd

thee! Clo. Why,

are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrown upon them.” I was one, sir, in this interlude; one Sir Topas, sir; but that's all [380 one. “By the Lord, fool, I am not mad." But do you remember? Madam, why laugh you at such a barren rascal ? An you smile not,

he's gagg'd.” And thus the whirligig of time brings in his revenges.

Mal. I'll be reveng'd on the whole pack of you.

[Exit.] Oli. He hath been most notoriously abus'd. Duke. Pursue him, and entreat him to a

peace; He hath not told us of the captain yet. When that is known and golden time convents, A solemn combination shall be made Of our dear souls. Meantime, sweet sister, We will not part from hence. Cesario, come ; For so you shall be, while you are a man ; But when in other habits you are seen, Orsino's mistress and his fancy's queen.

[Ereunt (all, except Cloun). Clo. (Sings.) When that I was and a little tiny boy,

With hey, ho, the wind and the rain, A foolish thing was but a toy,

For the rain it raineth every day. But when I came to man's estate,

With hey, ho, &c. 'Gainst knaves and thieves men shut their gate,

For the rain, &c.
But when I came, alas ! to wive,

With hey, ho, &c.
By_swaggering could I never thrive,

For the rain, &c.
But when I came unto my beds,

With hey, ho, &c.
With toss-pots still had drunken heads,

For the rain, &c.
A great while ago the world begun,

With hey, ho, &c.
But that's all one, our play is done,
And we 'll strive to please you every day.

(Exit.)

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TROILUS AND CRESSIDA

UNDER the date of February 7, 16043, there was entered on the Stationers' Register for James Roberts “ The Booke of Troilus and Cressida, as yt is acted by My Lo. Chamberlen's men. When he hathe gotten sufficient aucthority for yt." Though Roberts seems never to have got authority to issue the play, the entry gives us a later limit for the date of composition. An earlier limit is found in the production, about the middle of 1601, of Jonson's Poetaster, the Prologue to which is alluded to in Troilus and Cressida (Prol. 23-25). The play, then, was composed in the end of 1601 or during 1602.

The first edition is a quarto published in 1609 in two forms, with differing title-pages but identical text. The earlier title-page states that it was acted by the King's Majesty's Servants at the Globe ; the later is followed by a preface claiming that the play was never stald with the stage, never clapperclawed with the palms of the vulgar.” This statement is either a plain falsehood for advertising purposes, or is a quibble based on some alterations or omissions. The relation of the text of the First Folio to this quarto it is difficult to determine. The verbal differences between them, though often minute, are very numerous, and several passages found in the Folio are missing from the Quarto, some of which are required by the context. On the other hand, at least three passages need to be supplied to the Folio text from the Quarto ; and in many of the more minute differences the Quarto has the better reading; in some, apparently the authentic one. It may be conjectured with some plausibility that the copyist or printer of the Quarto did his work carelessly, though working from an authentic manuscript; and that the Folio version was set up with a different set of mistakes from another and later copy, which may have been revised in details by Shakespeare, or another, or both. The present text is based on the Folio, readings being inserted from the Quarto and later editions only when there appears to be a corruption due to copyist or printer. Passages not in the Folio are enclosed in square brackets.

From evidence based on style, metre, and comparison with sources, it is practically certain that the Prologue and v. vii.-x. are by another hand, and it is probable that Shakespeare's part in v. iv.-vi. is confined to a few lines and phrases. These inferences are corroborated by the recurrence of the lines v. iii. 113-115 in v. x. 32-34, pointing to the later substitution of the present closing

scenes.

On account of the extraordinary vogue of the story of Troy in literature, the versions from which Shakespeare may have drawn hints are innumerable. The main sources, however, have been identified. The Troilus story is adapted from Chaucer's poem of the same name, the character of the heroine having been made somewhat lighter in accordance with the current Elizabethan conception of her as the essential coquette, and in order to make plausible the more rapid degradation necessitated by the limits of dramatic treatment. The camp scenes are based on Caxton's Recuyell of the historyes of Troye ; and from Homer, probably in Chapman's translation, he drew Hector's challenge to a duel, the pride of Achilles, and some minor hints. The unknown collaborator followed Caxton much more slavishly than did Shakespeare. Whether anything was drawn from four or five lost early plays on similar themes cannot be determined. It has been thought that he was influenced by Greene's Euphues, his Censure to Philautus in the general tone of his treatment of antiquity. Of the characters, Cressida and Pandarus are from Chaucer, Thersites and Nestor from Homer, and the warriors from Caxton. Troilus is a combination of Chaucer's lover with Caxton's heroic figure. The Shakespearean Ajax alone is undiscoverable in any of the older versions. This fact, along with the nature of the description of him in 1. ii. 19_ 31, and its inconsistency with the Ajax of the camp scenes, has led to the conclusion that the character is in part a satire on Ben Jonson. Other attempts to find personal satire in the play are not convincing.

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