bear your body more seeming, Audrey :-as thus, sir. I did dislike the cut of a certain courtier's beard: he sent me word, if I said his beard was not cut well, he was in the mind it was: this is called the Retort Courteous. If I sent him word again 'it was not well cut,' he would send me word, he cut it to please himself: this is called the Quip Modest. If again 'it was not well cut,' he disabled my judgment: this is called the Reply Churlish. If again 'it was not well cut,' he would answer, I spake not true this is called the Reproof Valiant. If again 'it was not well cut,' he would say, I lied this is called the Countercheck Quarrelsome, and so to the Lie Circumstantial and the Lie Direct. Jaq. And how oft did you say his beard was not well cut? Touch I durst go no further than the Lie Circumstantial, nor he durst not give me the Lie Direct; and so we measured swords and parted. Jaq. Can you nominate in order now the degrees of the lie ? Touch. O sir, we quarrel in print, by the book; as you have books for good manners : I will name you the degrees. The first, the Retort Courteous; the second, the Quip Modest; the third, the Reply Churlish; the fourth, the Reproof Valiant; the fifth, the Countercheck Quarrelsome; the sixth, the Lie with Circumstance; the seventh, the Lie Direct. All these you may avoid but the Lie Direct; and you may avoid that too, with an If. I knew when seven justices could not take up a quarrel, but when the parties were met themselves, one of them thought but of an If, as, 'If you said so, then I said so;' and they shook hands and swore brothers. Your If is the only peace-maker; much virtue in If. Jaq. Is not this a rare fellow, my lord? he's as good at any thing and yet a fool. 110 Duke S. He uses his folly like a stalkinghorse and under the presentation of that he shoots his wit, Enter HYMEN, ROSALIND, and CELIA. Still Music. Hym. Then is there mirth in heaver, Good duke, receive thy daughter: That thou mightst join her hand with Whose heart within his bosom is. 121 Ros. [To duke] To you I give myself, for I Phe. If sight and shape be true, Why then, my love adieu ! Ros. I'll have no father, if you be not he: Of these most strange events: If truth holds true contents. 140 You and you are sure together, SONG. Wedding is great Juno's crown: Duke S. O my dear niece, welcome thou art to me! Even daughter, welcome, in no less degree. Phe. I will not eat my word, now thou art mine; Thy faith my fancy to thee doth combine. Jaq. de B. Let me have audience for a word or two: I am the second son of old Sir Rowland, foot, In his own conduct, purposely to take Duke S. Shall share the good of our returned fortune, According to the measure of their states. 181 I'll stay to know at your abandon'd cave. [Exit. EPILOGUE. Meantime, forget this new-fall'n dignity Duke S. Proceed, proceed: we will begin And fall into our rustic revelry. Play, music! And you, brides and bride these rites, As we do trust they'll end, in true delights, grooms all, [A dance. With measure heap'd in joy, to the measures fall. Jaq. Sir, by your patience. If I heard you rightly, The duke hath put on a religious life Jaq. To him will I: out of these convertites 190 There is much matter to be heard and learn'd. [To duke] You to your former honor I bequeath; Your patience and your virtue well deserves it: [To Orl.] You to a love that your true faith doth merit: [To Oli.] You to your land and love and great allies: [To Sil.] You to a long and well-deserved bed: [To Touch.] And you to wrangling; for thy loving voyage Is but for two months victuall'd. So, to your pleasures: 200 I am for other than for dancing measures. Ros. It is not the fashion to see the lady the epilogue; but it is no more unhandsome than to see the lord the prologue. If it be true that good wine needs no bush, 'tis true that a good play needs no epilogue; yet to good wine they do use good bushes, and good plays prove the better by the help of good epilogues. What a case am I in then, that am neither a good epilogue nor cannot insinuate with you in the behalf of a good play! I am not furnished like a beggar, therefore to beg will not become me: my way is to conjure you; and I'll begin with the women. I charge you, O women, for the love you bear to men, to like as much of this play as please you and I charge you, O men, for the love you bear to women-as I perceive by your simpering, none of you hates them-that between you and the women the play may please. If I were a woman I would kiss as many of you as had beards that pleased me, complexions that liked me and breaths that I defied not: and, I am sure, as many as have good beards or good faces or sweet breaths will, for my kind offer, when I make curtsy, bid me farewell. [Exeunt. TWELFTH NIGHT. (WRITTEN ABOUT 1600-1601.) INTRODUCTION. We learn from Manningham's Diary that Twelfth Night was acted at the Middle Temple, Febru ary 2, 1601-1602. Its date is probably 1600-1601. Manningham writes of the play: "Much like The Comedy of Errors or Menechmi in Plautus, but most like and neere to that in Italian called Ingann." There are two Italian plays of an earlier date than Twelfth Night, entitled Gl Inganni (The Cheats), containing incidents in some degree resembling those of Shakespeare's comedy, and in that by Gonzaga, the sister who assumes male attire, producing thereby confusion of identity with her brother, is named Cesare (Shakespeare's Cesario). But a third Italian play, Gl' Ingannati, presents a still closer resemblance to Twelfth Night, and in its poetical induction, Il Sacrificio, occurs the name Malevolti (Malvolio). The story is told in Bandello's novel (ii. 36), and was translated by Belleforest into French, in Histoires Tragiques. Whether Shakespeare consulted any Italian source or not, he had doubtless before him the version of the story (from Cinthio's Hecatomithi) by Barnabe Rich-the Historie of Apolonius and Silla in Riche His Farewell to Militarie Profession (1581)-and this, in the main, he followed. The characters of Malvolio, Sir Toby Belch, Sir Andrew Aguecheek, Fabian, the clown Feste, and Maria, with the part they play in the comedy, are creations of Shakespeare No comedy of Shakespeare's unites such abounding mirth and fine satire, with the charm of a poetical romance. It is the summing up of the several admirable qualities which appear in the joyous comedies, of which it forms the last. An edge is put on the roystering humor of Sir Toby by the sharp waiting-maid wit of Maria, which saves it from becoming an aimless rollicking. Sir Andrew is a Slender grown adult in brainlessness, and who has forgotten that he is not as richly endowed by nature as by fortune. Feste, the clown, is less quaint than Touchstone, but more versatile, less a contemplative fool, and more actively a lover of jest and waggery. Among this abandoned crew of topers and drolls stalks the solemn "yellow-legged stork" Malvolio. His sense of self-importance has diffused itself over all the details of his life, so that the whole of human existence, as he would have it, must become as pompous and as exemplary as the manners of my lady's steward. The cruelty of his deception and disillusion is in proportion to the greatness of his distempered selfesteem. The Duke Orsino is infected with the lover's melancholy, which is fantastical and nice. He nurses his love and dallies with it, and tries to yield up all his consciousness to it, as to a delicious sensation, and therefore his love is not quite earnest or deep. Olivia has not the love-languor of the Duke, but her resolved sorrow for her lost brother, so soon forgotten in a stronger feeling, shows a little of the same unreality of self-conscious emotion which we perceive in the Duke's love, she is of a nature harmonious and refined, but is too much a child of wealth and ease to win away our chief interest from the heroine of the play Viola is like a heightened portrait of the Julia of The Two Gentlemen of Verona, enriched with lovely color and placed among more poetical surroundings, She has not the pretty sauciness of Rosalind in her disguise, but owns a heart as tender sweet-natured, and sound-natured as even Rosalind's. ACT L SCENE I. The DUKE's palace. Enter DUKE, CURIO, and other Lords; Musicians attending. Duke. If music be the food of love. play on; Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting, Cur. Will you go hunt, my lord? Cur. The hart. 10 What, Curio? Vio. For saying so, there's gold : Mine own escape unfoldeth to my hope, Whereto thy speech serves for authority, The like of him. Know'st thou this country? Cap. Ay, madam, well; for I was bred and born Not three hours' travel from this very place. Vio. Who governs here? Cap. A noble duke, in nature as in name. Vro. What is the name? Vio. Orsino! I have heard my father name Cap. Orsino. him: He was a bachelor then. Cap. And so is now, or was so very late; For but a month ago I went from hence, 31 And then 'twas fresh in murmur,-as, you But from her handmaid do return this an know, swer: What great ones do the less will prattle of,That he did seek the love of fair Olivia. Vio. What's she? Cap. A virtuous maid, the daughter of a count And lasting in her sad remembrance. 31 That died some twelvemonth since, then leav. Duke. O, she that hath a heart of that fine They say, she hath abjured the company 40 And sight of men. Cap. Vro. There is a fair behavior in thee, cарtain; And though that nature with a beauteous wall I will believe thou hast a mind that suits 50 Enter SIR ANDREW AGUECHEEK, Sir And. Sir Toby Belch! how now, Sir Thou shall present me as an eunuch to him: Toby Belch! Sir And. Bless you, fair shrew. Cap. Be you his eunuch, and your mute I'll be: Mar. Ay, but he'll have but a year in all these ducats: he's a very fool and a prodigal. Sir To. Fie, that you'll say so! he plays o' the viol-de-gamboys, and speaks three or four languages word for word without book, and hath all the good gifts of nature. 29 Mar. He hath indeed, almost natural: for besides that he's a fool, he's a great quarreller: and but that he hath the gift of a coward to allay the gust he hath in quarrelling, 'tis thought among the prudent he would quickly have the gift of a grave. Str To. By this hand, they are scoundrels and subtractors that say so of him. Who are they? Mar. They that add, moreover, he's drunk nightly in your company. 39 Sir To. With drinking healths to my niece: I'll drink to her as long as there is a passage in my throat and drink in Illyria: he's a coward and a coystrill that will not drink to my niece till his brains turn o' the toe like a parish-top. What, wench! Castiliano vulgo! for here comes Sir Andrew Agueface Sir To. Sweet sir Andrew! Mar. And you too, sir. Sir To. Accost, Sir Andrew, accost. Sir And. What's that? Sir To. My niece's chambermaid. 50 Sir And. Good Mistress Accost, I desire better acquaintance. Mar. My name is Mary, sir. Sir And. Good Mistress Mary Accost, Sir To. You mistake, knight; 'accost' is front her, board her, woo her, assail her. 60 Sir And. By my troth, I would not undertake her in this company. Is that the meaning of 'accost'? Mar. Fare you well, gentlemen. Sir To. An thou let part so, Sir Andrew, would thou mightst never draw sword again. Sir And. An you part so, mistress, I would I might never draw sword again. Fair lady, do you think you have fools in hand? Mar. Sir, I have not you by the hand. 70 Sir And. Marry, but you shall have; and here's my hand. Mar. Now, sir, 'thought is free:' I pray you, bring your hand to the buttery-bar and let it drink. Sir And. Wherefore, sweet-heart? what's your metaphor ? Mar. It's dry, sir. Sir And. Why, I think so: I am not such an ass but I can keep my hand dry. But what's your jest? Mar. A dry jest, sir. 80 Sir And. Are you full of them? Mar. Ay, sir, I have them at my fingers' ends: marry, now I let go your hand, I am barren. [Exit. Sir To. O knight thou lackest a cup of canary: when did I see thee so put down? Sir And. Never in your life, I think; unless you see canary put me down. Methinks sometimes I have no more wit than a Christian or an ordinary man has: but I am a great eater of beef and I believe that does harm to my wit. Sir To. No question, 91 Sir And. An I thought that, I'ld forswear it. I'll ride home to-morrow, Sir Toby. Sir To. Pourquoi, my dear knight? Sir And. What is 'pourquoi'? do or not do? I would I had bestowed that time in the tongues that I have in fencing, dancing and bear-baiting: O, had I but followed the arts! Sir To. Then hadst thou had an excellent head of hair. 101 Sir And. Why, would that have mended my hair? Sir To. Past question; for thou seest it will not curl by nature. Sir And. But it becomes me well enough, does't not? Sir P Excellent it hangs like flax on |