Sir And. But it becomes me well enough, does't not? Sir To. Excellent! it hangs like flax on a diftaff; and I hope to fee a housewife take thee between her legs, and fpin it off.

Sir And. 'Faith, I'l home to-morrow, Sir Toby; your niece will not be feen; or, if fhe be, it's four to ne fhe'll none of me: the Duke himself here, hard wooes her.

Sir To. She'll none o' th' Duke: she'll not match above her degree, neither in eftate, years, nor wit; I have heard her fwear it. Tut, there's life in't, man. Sir And. I'll stay a month longer. 1 am a fellow o' th' ftrangeft mind i' th' world. I delight in masks and revels fometimes altogether.

Sir To. Art thou good at these kickshaws, Knight?

Sir And. As any man in Illyria, whatfoever he be, under the degree of my betters; and yet I will not compare with an old man.

Sir To. What, is thy excellence in a galliard, Knight? Sir And. 'Faith, I can cut a caper.

Sir To. And I can cut the mutton to't.

Sir And. And I think I have the back-trick, fimply as ftrong as any man in Illyria.

Sir To. Wherefore are these things hid? wherefore have thefe gifts a curtain before them? are they like to take duft, like Miftrefs Mall's picture? Why doft thou not go to church in a galliard, and come home in a coranto? My very walk fhould be a jig! I would not fo much as make water, but in a cinque-pace. What doft thou mean? it is a world to hide virtues in? I did think, by the excellent conftitution of thy leg, it was form'd under the ftar of a galliard.

Sir And. Ay, tis ftrong, and it does indifferent well in a flame-colour'd ftocking, Shall we fet about fome revels?

Sir To. What fhall we do elfe? were we not born under Taurus?

Sir And. Taurus? that's fides and heart.

Sir To. No, Sir, it is legs and thighs. Let me fee. thee caper; ha! higher: ha, ha!

H 2

-excellent.

[Exeunt.

SCENE

SCENE V. Changes to the palace.

Enter Valentine, and Viola in man's attire.

Val. If the Duke continue thefe favours towards you, Cefario, you are like to be much advanc'd; he hath known you but three days, and already you are ftranger.

Π

Vio. You either fear his humour, or my negligence that you call in question the continuance of his love. Is he inconftant, Sir, in his favours?

Val. No, believe me.

Enter Duke, Curiv, and attendants.

Vio. I thank you. Here comes the Duke.
Duke. Who faw Cefario, hoa?

Vio. On your attendance, my Lord, here.
Duke. Stand you a while aloof.

-Cefario,

Thou know'ft no lefs, but all: I have unclafp'd

To thee the book even of my secret soul.

Therefore, good youth, addrefs thy gate unto her;
Be not deny'd access; ftand at her doors,

And tell them, there thy fixed foot fhall
Till thou have audience.

Vio. Sure, my noble Lord,

If the be fo abandon'd to her forrow

As it is spoke, fhe never will admit me.

grow,

Duke. Be clamorous, and leap all civil bounds,

Rather than make unprofited return.

Vio. Say, I do fpeak with her, my Lord; what then? Duke. O, then, unfold the paffion of my love;

Surprise her with discourse of my dear faith;

It fhall become thee well to act my woes;

She will attend it better in thy youth,
Than in a nuncio of more grave afpect,
Vio. I think not fo, my Lord.
Duke. Dear lad, believe it:

For they shall yet belie thy happy years,
That fay thou art a man: Diana's lip

Is not more smooth and rubious; thy fmall pipe
Is as the maiden's organ, fhrill, and found,
And all is femblative a woman's part.

I know

I know thy conftellation is right apt

For this affair: fome four or five attend him;
All, if you will; for I myself am best

When least 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

o woo your Lady; yet a barrful strife! Whoe'er I woo, myself would be his wife.

SCENE VI. Changes to Olivia's house.

Enter Maria and Clown.

[Exeunt.

Mar. Nay, either tell me where thou haft 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 anfwer. 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 wifdom 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 points. Mar. That if one break, the other will hold; or if both break, your gafkins 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 fleth as any in Illyria.

H 3

Mar

Mar. Peace, you rogue, no more o' that. Here comes my Lady; make your excuse wisely, you were best.

SCENE VII. Enter Olivia, and Malvolio.

[Exit.

Clo. Wit, and't be thy will, put me into a good fool ing! Thofe wits that think they have thee, do very ofe prove fools; and that I am fure I lack thee, may pafs for a wife man. For what fays Quinapalus? Better be 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 dishoneft.

Clo. Two faults, Madona, that drink and good coumfel will amend; for give the dry fool drink, then is the fool not dry. Bid the dishoneft 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, so; if it will not, what remedy? as there is no true cuckold but calamity, fo beau ty's a flower: the Lady bade take away the fool; therefore I fay again, take her away.

Oli. Sir, I bade them take away you.

Cla. Mifprifion in the highest degree.-Lady, Cucullus non facit monachum; that's as much as to fay, I wear not motley in my brain.

to prove you a fool.

Oli. Can you do it!

Good Madona, give me leave

Clo. Dexterously, good Madona.

Oli. Make your proof.

Clo. I must catechife you for it, Madona; good my mouse of virtue, anfwer me.

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

Clo. Good Madona, why mourn'ft 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.

Cie

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 speedy infirmity, for the better increasing your folly! Sir Toby will be fworn that I am no fox; but he will not pafs his word for two-pence you are no fool.

that

Oli. How fay you to that, Malvolio?

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

you now,

Oli. O, you are fick of felf-love, Malvolio, and tafte with a diftemper'd appetite. To be generous, guiltless, and of free difpofition, is to take thofe 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 difcreet man, though he do nothing but reprove.

Clo. Now, Mercury endue thee with pleafing, 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 fpeaks 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 difmifs it. [Exit Malvolio.] Now,

you