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I am

already, Sir, with salt water, tho' I seem to drown her remembrance again with more.

Ant. Pardon me, Sir, your bad entertainment.
Seb: O good Antonio, forgive me your trouble.

Ant. If you will not murther me for my love, let me be your servant.

Seb. If you will not undo what you have done, that is, kill him whom you have recover'd, defire it not. Fare ye well at once; my bosom is full of kindness, and I am yet so near the manners of my mother, that


the least occasion more, mine eyes will tell tales of me: bound to the Duke Orsino's court; farewel.

[Exit. Ant. The gentleness of all the Gods go with thee! I have made enemies in Orfino's court, Else would I very shortly see thee there: But come what may, I do adore thee so, The danger shall seem sport, and I will go. [Exit.

Enter Viola and Malvolio, at several doors. Mal. Were not you e'en now with the Countess OLivia ?

Vio. Even now, Sir; on a moderate pace I have since arrived but hither.

Mal. She returns this ring to you, Sir; you might have saved me my pains, to have taken it away your self. She adds moreover, that you should put your Lord into a desperate assurance, she will none of him. And one thing more, that you be never so hardy to come again in his affairs, unless it be to report your Lord's taking of this : receive it fo.

Vio. She took the ring of me, I'll none of it.

Mal. Come, Sir, you peevishly threw it to her, and her will is, it should be so return'd: if it be worth ftooping for, there it lyes in your eye; if not, be it his that finds it.

[Exit. Vio. I left no ring with her ; what means this Lady? Fortune forbid, my outside have not charm'd her! She made good view of me; indeed, so much, That, sure, methought her eyes had lost her tongue ; For she did speak in starts distractedly :


She loves me, fure; the cunning of her passion
Invites me in this churlish messenger.
None of my Lord's ring? why, he sent her none.
I am the man -If it be fo, (as, 'tis ;)
Poor Lady, the were better love a dream.
Disguise, I see, thou art a wickedness,
Wherein the pregnant enemy does much.
How easie is it, for the proper false
In women's waxen hearts to set their forms!
Alas, our frailty is the cause, not we,
Por such as we are made, if such we be.
How will this fadge? my master loves her dearly, 1
And I, poor monster, fond as much on him ;
And she, mistaken, seems to dote on me,'
What will become of this ? as I am man,
My state is desperate for my master's love ;
As I am woman, (now, alas the day!)
What thriftless fighs shall poor Olivia breathe ?
O time, thou must untangle this, not I;
It is too hard a knot for me t'unty.


SCENE changes to Olivia's House.

Enter Sir Toby, and Sir Andrew.

Sir To.

A to

ter midnight, is to be up betimes; and Diluculo Jurgere, thou know'st,

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

late. Sir To. A false conclusion: I hate it, as an unfill'd can; to be up after midnight, and to go to bed then, is early; so that to go to bed after midnight, is to go to bed betimes. Does not our life confiit of the four elements ?

Sir And. 'Faith, so they say; but, I think, it rather confifts of eating and drinking

Sir To. Th’art a scholar, let us therefore eat and drink. Maria! I say !--a stoop of wine.




Enter Clown.
Sir And. Here comes the fool, i'faith.

Clo. How now, my hearts ? did you never see the picture of we three?

Sir To, Welcome, ass, now let's have a catch.

Sir And. By my troth, the fool has an excellent breaft. I had rather than forty shillings I had such a leg, and so sweet a breath to sing, as the fool has. In footh, thou waft in very gracious fooling last night, when thou spok'st of Pigrogromitus, of the Vapians passing the Equinoctial of Queubus : 'twas very good, i' faith : (5) I sent thee fix-pence for thy Leman, hadft it?

Clo. I did impeticos thy gratillity; for Malvolio's nose is no whip-stock. My Lady has a white hand, and the Myrmidons are no botile-ale houses.

Sir And. Excellent: why, this is the best fooling, when all is done. Now, a Song.

Sir To. Come on, there's Six-pence for you. Let's have a Song:

Sir And. There's a testril of me too; if one Knight give a

Cl. Would you have a Love-song, or a Song of good life?

Sir To. A Love-song, a Love-song.
Sir And. Ay, ay, I care not for good life.

Clown fings.
O mistress mine, where are you roaming ?
O fay and hear, your true love's coming,

That can fing both high and low.
Trip no further, pretty sweeting":
Journeys end in lovers' meeting,

Every wise man's fon doth know. (5) 1 Jent thee fix pence for thy Lemon, had's it'?] But the Clown was neither Pancler, nor Butler. The Poet's Word was certainly mistaken by the Igoorance of the Printers. I have restor'd, leman, i. c. I fent thce Sixpence to spead on thy Mitress,

Shall we

Sir And. Excellent good, i'faith!

Sir To. Good, good.
Cio. What is love? 'tis not hereafter :

Present mirth hath present laughter:

What's to come, is fill unsure ;
In delay there lyes no plenty:
Then come kiss me, sweet, and twenty:

's a fluff will not endure. Sir And. A mellifluous voice, as I am a true Knight. Sir To. A contagious breath. Sir And. Very sweet and contagious, i'faith. Sir To. To hear by the nose, it is dulcet in contagion. But fhall we make the welkin dance, indeed ? rouze the night-owl in a catch, that will draw three souls out of one weaver? fhall we do that?

Sir And. An you love me, let's do't: I am a dog at a catch.

Clo. By'r Lady, Sir, and some dogs will catch well. Sir And. Most certain; let our catch be, Thou knave. Clo

. Hold thy peace, thou knave, Knight. I shall be contraind in't, to call thee knave, Knight.

Sir And. 'Tis not the first time I have constrain'd one to call me knave. Begin, fool ; it begins, Hold thy peace.

Cl. I shall never begin, if I hold my peace.
Sir And. Good, i'faith : come, begin.

[They fing a catch. Enter Maria. Mar. What a catterwauling do you keep here? if my Lady have not call'd up her steward, Malvolio, and bid him turn you out of doors, never trust me.

Sir To My Lady's a Catayan, we are politicians, Malvolio's a Peg-a-Ramsey, and Three merry men be we. Am not I consanguinious ? am I not of her blood ? Tilly Palley, Lady! there dwelt a man in Babylon, Lady,

[Singing. Clo

. Belhrew me, the Knight's in admirable fooling. Sir And. Ay, he does well enough if he be dispos’d, F 2




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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. Mar. For the love oʻGod, peace.

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 ale"house 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, perfons, nor time in you? Sir To. We did keep time, Sir, in our catches. Sneck

[Hiccoughs. Mal. Sir Toby, I must be round with you. My Lady bade me tell you, that tho' the harbours you as her Uncle, she's nothing ally'd to your disorders. If you can feparate your self and your misdemeanors, you are welcome to the House: if not, an it would please you to take leave of her, the is very willing to bid you farewel.

Sir To. Farewel, dear heart, since I must needs be gone.
Mal. Nay, good Sir Toby.
Clo. His eyes do phew, his days are almost done.
Mal. Ii't even so ?
Sir To. But I will never die.
Clo. Sir Toby, there you lie.
Mal. This is much credit to you.
Sir To. Shall I bid him go?

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

Sir To. Out o’time, Sir? ye lie: art thou any more than a steward? doft thou think, because thou art virtuous, there shall be no more cakes and ale ?

Clo. Yes, by Saint Anne ; and ginger shall be hot i'th' mouth too.

Sir To. Thou’rt i'th' right. Go, Sir, rub your chain with crums.

A stoop of wine, Maria. Mal. Mistress Mary, if you priz'd my Lady's favour at any thing more than contempt, you would not give


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