means for this uncivil rule; she 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 promise 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 Puritan..

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

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

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

Mar. The devil a Puritan that he is, or any thing conftantly but a time-pleaser; an affection'd * afs, that cons ftate without book, and utters it by great fwaths: the best perfuaded of himself: fo cramm'd, as he thinks, wich 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 obscure epiftles of love, wherein, by the colour of his beard, the shape 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 niece; on a forgotten matter we can hardly make diftinction of our hands.

Sir To. Excellent, I fmell a device.

Affectioned, for full of affectation.

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

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

afs.

Mar. My purpose is, indeed, a horfe of that colour.

Sir And. And your horfe now would make him an

Mar. Afs, I doubt not.

Sir And. O, 'twill be admirable.

Mar. Sport royal, I warrant you: I know

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

Sir To. Good night, Penthefilea.

Sir And. Before me, she'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 money.

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

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

Sir And. If I do not, never truft you will.

me,

take it how

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

[Exeunt.

SCENE V. Changes to the palace.

Enter Duke, Viola, Curio, and others.

Duke. Give me fome mufic; now, good morrow, Now, good Cefario, but that piece of fong, [friends: 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.

Recollected for ftudied.

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

Duke. Who was it?

Cur. Feste the jefter, my Lord; a fool that the Lady Olivia's father took much delight in.

the house.

He is about

Duke. Seek him out, and play the tune the while.

[Exit Curio.

Come hither, boy; if ever thou shalt love,

[Mufic.

In the fweet pangs of it remember me;
For fuch as I am, all true lovers are ;
Unftaid and fkittish in all notions 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 from the feat
"where love is thron'd.

Duke. Thou doft speak masterly.

My life upon't, young though 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 Heaven; let ftill the woman take

"An elder than herfelf, fo wears fhe to him ;

"So fways fhe level in her husband's heart.
For, boy, however we do praise ourselves,
Our fancies are more giddy and unfirm,
More longing, wavering, fooner lost and worn,
Than womens' are.

Vio. I think it well, my Lord.

Duke. Then let thy love be younger than thyself, Or thy affection cannot hold the bent :

For women are, as rofes, whose fair flower,
Being once difplay'd, doth fall that very hour.
Vio. And fo they are: alas, that they are so,
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 fpiniters and the knitters in the fun,

"And the free maids that weave their thread with

"Do ufe to chant it: it is filly footh,

[bones,

"And tallies with the innocence of love,

Clo. Are you ready, Sir?

[Mufic.

"Like the old age.

Duke. Ay; pr'ythee, fing.

SONG.

"Come away, come away, death,
"And in fad cyprefs let me be laid ;
Fly away, fly away, breath;

"I am flain by a fair cruel maid.

"My browd of white, ftuck all with yew,

"O, prepare it.

"My part of death no one fo-true

"Did fhare it.

"Not a flower, not a flower fweet,

"On my black coffin let there be firon: "Not a friend, not a friend greet

My poor corps, where my bones fhall be thrown.

"A thoufand thoufand 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 pleafure in finging, Sir. Duke. I'll pay thy pleafure 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 tailor make thy doublet of changeable taffata, for thy mind is a very opal *. I would have men of fuch conftancy put to fea, that their business might be every thing, and their intent no where; for that's it that always makes a good voyage of nothing. Farewel.

[Exit. * A precious stone of almost all colours. Mr. Pope.

Duke. Let all the reft give place. Once more, Ce

fario,

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 mind, attracts my foul.
Vio. But if she cannot love you, Sir-
Duke. I cannot be fo anfwer'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 anfwer'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 sea,
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,

Feed on her damafk cheek: fhe pin'd in thought;
And, with a green and yellow melancholy,

She fat like Patience on a monument,