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Sir To. I could marry this wench for this device,
Sir And. So could I too.

Sir To. And ask no other dowry with her, but such another jeft.

Enter Maria.
Sir And. Nor I neither.
Fab. Here comes my noble gull-catcher.
Sir To. Wilt thou set thy foot o' my neck ?
Sir And. Or o' mine either?

Sir To. Shall I play my freedom at tray-trip, and become thy bond-slave :

Sir And. I'faith, or I either?

Sir To. Why, thou hast put him in such a dream, that when the image of it leaves him, he must run


Mar. Nay, but say true, does it work upon him ?
Sir To. Like Aqua vitæ with a midwife. -

Mar. If you will then see the fruits of the sport, mark his first approach before my Lady: he will come to her in yellow Atockings, and 'tis a colour she abbors; and cross-garter'd, a fashion she detests; and he will smile upon her, which will now be so unsuitable to her dispofition, being addicted to a melancholy, as she is, that it cannot but turn him into a notable contempt: if you will see it, follow me.

Sir To. To the gates of Tartar; thou most excellent devil of wit! Sir And. I'll make one too.






SCENE, Olivia's Garden.

Enter Viola, and Clown.


VIOLA. AVE thee, Friend, and thy mufick: dost thou live by thy Tabor ?

Clo. No, Sir, I live by the Church. Vio. Art thou a Churchman?

Clo. No such matter, Sir; I do live by the Church: for I do live at my House, and my House doth stand by the Church.

Vio. So thou may'ft fay, the King lyes by a Beggar, if a Beggar dwell near him: or the Church stands by thy Tabor, if thy Tabor stand by the Church.

Clo. You have said, Sir: to see this age !-A fentence is but a chev'ril glove to a good wit ; how quickly the wrong


may be turned outward ? Vio. Nay, that's certain ; they, that dally nicely with words, may quickly make them wanton.

Clo. I would, therefore, my Sister had had no Name, Sir.

Vio. Why, Man?

Clo. Why, Sir, her Name's a word ; and to dally with that word, might make my Sister wanton ; but, indeed, words are very rascals, fince bonds disgrac'd them.

Vio. Thy reason, Man?

Glo. Troth, Sir, I can yield you none without words ; and words are grown fo false, I am loth to prove reafon with them.

Vio. I warrant, thou art a merry Fellow, and carest for nothing


Cl. Not fo, Sir, I do care for fomething ; but, in my conscience, Sir, I do not care for you : if that be to care for nothing, Sir, I would, it would make you invisible.

Vio. Art not thou the Lady Olivia's Fool?

Clo. No, indeed, Sir; the Lady Olivia has no folly; fhe will keep no Fool, Sir, 'till she be married; and Fools are as like Husbands, as Pilchers are to Herrings, the Husband's the bigger : I am, indeed, not her Fool, but her Corrupter of Words.

Vio. I saw thee late at the Duke Qrfino's.

Clo. Foolery, Sir, does walk about the Orb like the Sun; it shines every where. I would be sorry, Sir, but the fool should be as oft with your Master, as with my Mistress : I think, I saw your wisdom there.

Vio. Nay, an thou pass upon me, I'll no more with thee. Hold, there's expences for thee.

Clo. Now Jove, in his next commodity of hair, send thee a beard !

Vio. By my troth, I'll tell thee, I am almost fick for one, though I would not have it grow on my chin. Is thy lady within?

Clo. Would not a pair of these have bred, Sir?
Vio. Yes, being kept together, and put to use.

Cl. I would play lord Pandarus of Phrygia, Şir, to bring a Crefida to this Troylus.

Vie. I understand you, Sir, 'tis well begg'd.

Clo. The matter, I hope, is not great, Sir; begging but a beggar: Cressida was a beggar. My lady is within, Sir, I will confter to them whence you come ; who you are, and what you would, is out of my welkin; I might say, element; but the word is over-worn.

[Exit. Dio. This fellow is wise enough to play the fool, And, to do that well, craves a kind of wit : He must observe their mood on whom he jetts, The quality of the persons, and the time; And, like the haggard, check at every feather That comes before his eye. This is a practice, As full of labour as a wife-man's art :


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For folly, that he wisely shews, is fit;
But wise men's, folly fall’n, quite taints their wit.

Enter Sir Toby, and Sir Andrew.
Sir And. Save you, gentleman. (6)
Vio. And you, Sir.
Sir To. Dieu vous guarde, Monfieur.
Vio. Et vous aussi ; vostre serviteur.

Sir Tob. I hope, Sir, you are ; and I am yours.Will you encounter the House ? my Niece is desirous you should enter, if your trade be to her.

Vio. I am bound to your Neice, Sir; I mean, she is the list of my voyage.

Sir Tob. Taste your legs, Sir, put them to motion.

Vio. My legs do better understand me, Sir, than I understand what you mean by bidding me taste my legs. Sir Tob. I mean, to go, Sir, to enter.

Vio. I will answer you with gate and entrance ; but we are prevented.

Enter Olivia and Maria. Most excellent accomplish'd lady, the heav'ns rain odours on you!

Sir And. That youth's a rare Courtier ! rain odours ? well.

Vio. My matter hath no voice, lady, but to your own most pregnant and vouchsafed ear. (6) Sir Tob. Save you, Gentleman.

Vio. And you, Sir.
Sir And. Dien vous guarde, Monsieur.
Vio. Et vous aussi ; votre Serviteur.

Sir And. I hope, Sir, you are; and I am yours.) * I have ventur'd to make the two Knights change Speeches in this Dialogue with Viola; and, i think, not without good Reason. It were a preposterous Forgetfulness in the Poet, and out of all Probability, to make Sir Andrew not only speak French, but understand what is said to him in it, who in the first A&t did not know the English of Pourquoy:

Sir And. Odours, pregnant, and vouchsafed : I'll get 'em all three ready. Oli

. Let the garden door be shut, and leave me to my hearing [Exeunt Sir Toby, Sir Andrew, and Maria. Give me your hand, Sir.

Vio. My duty, Madam, and most humble service.
Oli. What is your name?
Vio. Cesario is your servant's name, fair Princess.

Oli. My servant, Sir ? 'Twas never merry world,
Since lowly feigning was call'd compliment :
Y'are servant to the Duke Orfini, youth.

Vio. And he is yours, and he must needs be yours : Your servant's servant is your servant, Madam.

Oli. For him, I think not on him: for his thoughts, 'Would they were blanks, rather than fill'd with me!

Vio. Madam, I come to whet your gentle thoughts On his behalf.

Oli. O, by your leave, I pray you ; I bade you never speak again of him. But would you undertake another fuit, I'd rather hear you to follicit That, Than musick from the spheres.

Vie. Dear lady,

Oli. Give me leave, I beseech you : I did send,
After the last enchantment, you did hear,
A ring in chase of you. So did I abuse
Myself, my servant, and, I fear me, you ;

your hard construction must I fit,
To force that on you in a shameful cunning,
Which you knew none of yours.

What might you think? Have you not set mine honour at the stake, And baited it with all th’unmuzzled thoughts That tyrannous heart can think? to one of your re

ceiving Enough is shewn ; a cyprus, not a bosom,

heart. So let us hear you speak. Vio. I

pity you: Oli. That's a degree to love.

Hides my poor

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