Is as the maiden's organ, fhrill, and found,
And all is femblative a woman's part.
I know, thy Conftellation is right apt
For this affair: fome four or five attend him;
All, if you will; for I my felf am beft
When leaft in company. Profper well in this,
And thou shalt live as freely as thy Lord,
To call his fortunes thine.

Vio. I'll do my best

To woo your Lady; yet, a barrful ftrife!
Who-e'er I woo, my felf would be his wife. [Exeunt.

SCENE changes to Olivia's House.


Enter Maria and Clown.


AY, either tell me where thou hast been, or I will not open my lips fo wide as a briftle may enter, in way of thy excufe; my Lady will hang thee for thy abfence.

Clo. Let her hang me; he, that is well hang'd in this world, needs fear no colours. Mar. Make That good.

Clo. He fhall fee none to fear.

Mar. A good lenten answer: I can tell thee where that faying was born, of, I fear no colours.

Clo. Where, good mistress Mary?

Mar. In the wars, and that may you be bold to say in your foolery.

Clo. Well, God give them wisdom that have it; and thofe that are fools, let them ufe their talents.

Mar. Yet you will be hang'd for being fo long abfent, or be turn'd away; is not that as good as a hanging to you?

Clo. Marry, a good hanging prevents a bad marriage; and for turning away, let fummer bear it out.

Mar. You are refolute then ?

Clo. Not fo neither, but I


am refolv'd on two

Mar. That if one break, the other will hold; or, if Both break, your gaskins fall.


Clo. Apt, in good faith; very apt: well, go thy way, if Sir Toby would leave drinking, thou wert as witty a piece of Eve's flesh as any in Illyria.

Mar. Peace, you rogue, no more o' that: here comes my Lady; make your excufe wifely, you were best.

Enter Olivia, and Malvolio.


Clo. Wit, and't be thy will, put me into a good fooling! those wits, that think they have thee, do very oft prove fools; and I, that am fure I lack thee, may pafs for a wife man. For what fays Quinapalus, Better a witty fool than a foolish wit. God bless thee, Lady!

Oli. Take the fool away.

Clo. Do you not hear, fellows? take away the Lady. Oli. Go to, y'are a dry fool; I'll no more of you; befides, you grow dishonest.

Clo. Two faults, Madona, that drink and good counfel will amend; for give the dry fool drink, then is the fool not dry: Bid the dishonest man mend himself; if he mend, he is no longer difhoneft; if he cannot, let the botcher mend him. Any thing, that's mended, is but patch'd; virtue, that tranfgreffes, is but patch'd with fin; and fin, that amends, is but patch'd with virtue. If that this fimple fyllogifm will ferve, fo; if it will not, what remedy ? as there is no true cuckold but calamity, fo beauty's a flower: the Lady bad take away the fool, therefore, I fay again, take her away.

Oli. Sir, I bad them take away you.

Clo. Mifprifion in the highest degree.-Lady, Cucullus non facit monachum; that's as much as to fay, I wear not motley in my brain: good Madona, give me leave to prove you a fool.

Oli. Can you do it?

Clo. Dexterously, good Madona.

Oli. Make your proof.

Clo. I muft catechize you for it, Madona; good my moufe of virtue, answer me.

Oli. Well, Sir, for want of other idleness, I'll bide your proof.

[ocr errors]

Clo. Good Madona, why mourn'ít thou?
Oli. Good fool, for my brother's death.
Clo. I think, his foul is in hell, Madona.
Oli. I know, his foul is in heav'n, fool.

Clo. The more fool you, Madona, to mourn for your brother's foul being in heav'n: take away the fool, Gentlemen.

Oli. What think you of this fool, Malvolio, doth he not mend?

Mal. Yes, and fhall do, 'till the pangs of death fhake him. Infirmity, that decays the wife, doth ever make better the fool.

Clo. God fend you, Sir, a fpeedy infirmity, for the better increafing your folly! Sir Toby will be fworn, that I am no fox; but he will not pafs his word for two pence, that you are no fool.

Oli. How fay you to that, Malvolio?

Mal. I marvel, your Ladyship takes delight in fuch a barren rafcal; I faw him put down the other day with an ordinary fool, that has no more brain than a ftone. Look you now, he's out of his guard already; unless you laugh and minifter occafion to him, he is gagg'd. I proteft, I take these wife men, that crow fo at these fet kind of fools, no better than the fools' Zanies.

Oli. O, you are fick of felf-love, Malvolio, and tafte with a distemper'd appetite. To be generous, guiltless, and of free difpofition, is to take those things for birdbolts that you deem cannon-bullets: there is no flander in an allow'd fool, though he do nothing but rail; nor no railing in a known discreet man, though he do nothing but reprove.

Clo. Now Mercury indue thee with leafing, for thou fpeak'ft well of fools!

Enter Maria.

Mar. Madam, there is at the gate a young Gentleman, much defires to speak with you.

Oli. From the Count Orfino, is it?


Mar. I know not, Madam, 'tis a fair young Man, and well attended.

Oli. Who of my people hold him in delay?

Mar. Sir Toby, Madam, your Uncle.

Oli. Fetch him off, I pray you, he speaks nothing but madman: fie on him! Go you, Malvolio; if it be a fuit from the Count, I am fick, or not at home: What you will, to dismiss it. [Exit Malvolio.] Now you fee, Sir, how your fooling grows old, and people diflike it.

Clo. Thou haft fpoke for us, Madona, as if thy eldest Son fhould be a fool: whofe fcull fove cram with brains, for here comes one of thy Kin has a most weak Pia Mater!

Enter Sir Toby.

Oli. By mine honour, half drunk.

gate, Uncle?

Sir To. A Gentleman.

What is he at the

Oli A Gentleman what Gentleman ?

Sir To. Tis a Gentleman.

Here,- [belches.] A

plague o' these pickle herring! how now, fot?

Člo. Good Sir Toby,

Oli. Uncle, Uncle, how have you come fo early by this lethargy?


Sir To. Letchery! I defie letchery: there's one at the gate.

Oli. Ay, marry, what is he?

Sir To. Let him be the devil and he will, I care not: give me faith, fay I. Well, it's all one.

Oli. What's a drunken man like, fool?


Clo. Like a drown'd man, a fool, and a madman: one draught above heat makes him a fool; the fecond mads him; and a third drowns him.

Oli. Go thou and feek the Coroner, and let him fit o' my Uncle; for he's in the third degree of drink ; he's drown'd; go, look after him.

Clo. He is but mad yet, Madona, and the fool fhall look to the madman.

[Ex. Clown.


Enter Malvolio.

Mal Madam, yond young Fellow fwears he will peak with you. I told him, you were fick; he takes on him to understand so much, and therefore comes to fpeak with you. I told him, you were afleep; he feems to have a fore-knowledge of that too, and therefore comes to speak with you. What is to be faid to him, Lady? he's fortified against any denial.

Oli. Tell him, he shall not speak with me.

Mal He has been told fo; and he says, he'll stand at your door like a Sheriff's post, and be the supporter to a bench, but he'll speak with you.

Oli. What kind o'man is he?

Mal. Why, of mankind.

Oli. What manner of man?

Mal. Of very ill manners; he'll speak with you, will

you or no.

Oli. Of what personage and years is he ?

Mal. Not yet old enough for a man, nor young enough for a boy; as a squash is before 'tis a peafcod, or a codling when 'tis almost an apple: 'tis with him in ftanding water, between boy and man. He is very well-favour'd, and he fpeaks very fhrewithly; one would think, his mother's milk were scarce out of him.

Oli. Let him approach: call in my Gentlewoman.
Mal. Gentlewoman, my Lady calls.

Enter Maria.


Oli. Give me my veil: come, throw it o'er my face; We'll once more hear Orfino's embassy.

Enter Viola.

Vio. The honourable Lady of the house, which is fhe?

Oli. Speak to me, I fhall answer for her: your will? Vio. Moft radiant, exquifite, and unmatchable Beauty-I pray you, tell me, if this be the Lady of the fe, for I never faw her. I would be loth to caft


« 上一页继续 »