means for this uncivil rule; fhe shall know of it, by this hand.

Mar. Go fhake your ears.

[Exit.

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 promife 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; fince the youth of the Duke's was to day with my Lady, she is much out of quiet. For Monfieur Malvolio, let me alone with him if I do not gull him into a nay-word, and make him a common recreation, do not think, I have wit enough to lie ftraight in my bed: I know, I can do it.

Sir To. Poffefs us, poffefs us, tell us fomething of him. Mar. Marry, Sir, fometimes he is a kind of a Pu

ritan.

Sir And. O, if I thought that, I'd beat him like a

dog.

Sir To. What, for being a Puritan? thy exquifite reafon, dear Knight.

Sir And. I have no exquifite reason for't, but I have reafon good enough.

Mar. The devil a Puritan that he is, or any thing conftantly but a time-pleafer; an affection'd afs, that cons ftate without book, and utters it by great fwarths: the best perfuaded of himself: fo cram'd, 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 fome obfcure epiftles of love, wherein, by the colour of his beard, the fhape of his leg, the manner of his gate, the expreffure of his eye, forehead, and complexion, he fhall find himself moft feelingly perfonated. I can write very like my Lady your Neice; on a forgotten matter we can hardly make diftinction of our hands.

Sir To. Excellent, I smell a device.

Sir And. I have't in my nose too.

Sir To. He fhall think by the letters, that thou wilt drop, that they come from my Neice, and that she is in love with him.

Mar. My purpose is, indeed, a horfe of that colour.
Sir And. And your horfe now would make him an ass.
Mar. Afs, I doubt not.

Sir And. O, 'twill be admirable.

Mar. Sport royal, I warrant you: I know, my phyfick will work with him. I will plant you two, and let the fool make a third, where he fhall find the letter: observe his conftruction of it: for this night to bed, and dream on the event. Farewel.

Sir To. Good night, Penthifilea.

Sir And. Before me, fhe's a good wench.

[Exit.

Sir To. She's a beagle, true-bred, and one that adores me; what o'that?

Sir And. I was ador'd once too.

Sir To. Let's to bed, Knight: thou hadft need fend for more mony.

Sir And. If I cannot recover your Neice, I am a foul way out.

Sir To. Send for mony, Knight; if thou haft her not i'th'end, call me cut.

Sir And. If I do not, never trust me, take it how you will.

Sir To. Come, come, I'll go burn fome fack, 'tis too late to go to bed now: come, Knight; come, Knight. [Exeunt.

SCENE changes to the Palace.
Enter Duke, Viola, Curio, and others.

Duke. G

IVE me fome mufick; now, good morrow,
friends:

Now, good Cefario, but that piece of fong,
That old and antique fong, we heard laft night;
Methought, it did relieve my paffion much;
More than light airs, and recollected terms
Of these most brisk and giddy-paced times
Come, but one verfe.

Cur.

Cur. He is not here, so please your Lordship, that

fhould fing it.

Duke. Who was it?

Cur. Fefte, the jefter, my Lord, a fool that the Lady Olivia's father took much delight in. He is about the houfe.

Duke. Seek him out, and play the tune the while. [Ex. Curio. [Mufick. Come hither, boy; if ever thou shalt love, In the fweet pangs of it, remember me; For fuch as I am, all true lovers are; Unstaid and skittish in all motions else, Save in the conftant image of the creature That is belov'd. How doft thou like this tune? Vio. It gives a very echo to the feat

Where love is thron'd.

Duke. Thou doft fpeak mafterly.

My life upon't, young tho' thou art, thine eye
Hath ftaid upon fome favour that it loves:

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 heav'n; let ftill the woman take An elder than her felf, fo wears she to him;

So fways the level in her husband's heart.
For, boy, however we do praise our felves,
Our fancies are more giddy and unfirm,
More longing, wavering, fooner loft and worn,
Than women's are.

Vio. I think it well, my lord.

Duke. Then let thy love be younger than thy felf,
Or thy affection cannot hold the bent:
For women are as roles, whofe fair flower,
Being once display'd, doth fall that very hour.
Vio. And fo they are: alas, that they are fo,
To die, even when they to perfection grow!

Enter Curio and Clown.

Duke. O fellow, come; the fong we had last night, Mark it, Cefario, it is old and plain;

The fpinfters and the knitters in the fun,

And the free maids that weave their thread with bones, Do ufe to chant it: it is filly footh,

And dallies with the innocence of love,

Like the old age.

Clo. Are you ready, Sir?

Duke. Ay; pr'ythee, fing.

SONG.

Come away, some away, death,

And in fad cypress let me be laid; Fly away, fly away, breath,

I am flain by a fair cruel maid.

My browd of white, fuck all with jea,
O, prepare it.

My part of death no one so true

Did fhare it.

Not a flower, not a flower fweet,

On my black coffin let there be frown:

Not a friend, not a friend greet

[Mufich

My poor corps, where my bones fhall be thrown.
A thousand thousand fighs to fave,

Lay me, O! where

True lover never find my grave,
To weep there.

Duke. There's for thy pains.

Clo. No pains, Sir; I take pleasure in finging, Sir.
Duke. I'll pay thy pleasure then.

Clo. Truly, Sir, and pleasure will be paid one time or other.

Duke. Give me now leave to leave thee.

Clo. Now the melancholy God protect thee, and the taylor make thy doublet of changeable taffata, for thy mind is a very opal! I would have men of fuch conftancy

put

put to fea, that their bufinefs might be every thing, and their intent every where; for that's it, that always makes a good voyage of nothing. Farewel. [Exit. Duke. Let all the reft give place. Once more, Cefario,

Get thee to yond fame fovereign cruelty :

Tell her, my love, more noble than the world,
Prizes not quantity of dirty lands;

The parts, that fortune hath bestow'd upon her,
Tell her, I hold as giddily as fortune:
But 'tis that miracle, and Queen of Gems,
That nature pranks her in, attracts my foul.
Vio. But if the cannot love you, Sir-
Duke. It cannot be fo answer'd.
Vio. Sooth, but you must.

Say, that fome Lady, as, perhaps, there is,
Hath for your love as great a pang of heart

As

you have for Olivia: you cannot love her; You tell her fo; muft fhe not then be answer'd ? Duke. There is no woman's fides

Can bide the beating of fo ftrong a paffion,
As love doth give my heart: no woman's heart
So big to hold fo much; they lack retention.
Alas, their love may be call'd appetite:
No motion of the liver, but the palate,
That fuffers furfeit, cloyment, and revolt;
But mine is all as hungry as the fea,
And can digeft as much; make no compare
Between that love a woman can bear me,
And that I owe Olivia.

Vio. Ay, but I know—

Duke. What doft thou know?

Vio. Too well what love women to men may owe;

In faith, they are as true of heart, as we.

My father had a daughter lov'd a man,

As it might be, perhaps, were I a woman,

I fhould your Lordship.

Duke. And what's her hiftory?

Vio. A blank, my Lord: fhe never told her love, But let concealment, like a worm i'th' bud,

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