« PreviousContinue »
Orsino, noble sir, Be pleas'd that I shake off these names you give me; Antonio never yet was thief, or pirate, Though, I confess, on base and ground enough, Orsino's enemy. A witchcraft drew me hither: That most ingrateful boy there, by your side, From the rude sea's enrag'd and foamy mouth Did I redeem: a wreck past hope he was: His life I gave him, and did thereto add My love, without retention or restraint, All his in dedication : for his sake, Did I expose myself, pure for his love, Into the danger of this adverse town; Drew to defend him, when he was beset; Where being apprehended, his false cunning (Not meaning to partake with me in danger) Taught him to face me ont of his acquaintance, And grew a twenty-years-removed thing, While one would wink; denied me mine own purse, Which I had recommended to his use Not half an hour before. Vio
How can this be? Duke. When came he to this town? Ant. To-day, my lord; and for three months before (No interim, not a minute's vacancy), Both day and night did we keep company.
Enter OLIVIA and Attendants.
Duke. Here comes the countess; 'now heaven
walks on earth. But for thee, fellow, fellow, thy words are madness:
would have us read dire and direst; not knowing that Dere and Deriend meant hurt and hurting, mischief and mischievous ; and that their Latin dirus is from our Anglo-Saxon Derie, which they would expunge.' EIIE A ITTEPOENTA, Vol. ii. p. 109. A most pertinent illustration of Tooke's etymology has occurred to me in a MS poein by Richard Rolle the Hermit of Hampole :
*Bot Hatering lele and loselry,
Three months this youth hath tended upon me;
lord, Vio. My lord would speak, my duty hushes me. Oli. If it be ought to the old tune, my lord, It is as fat 6 and fulsome to mine ear,
ho As howling after music. Duke.
Still so cruel? Oli. Still so constant, lord. Duke. What! to perverseness? you uncivil lady, To whose ingrate and unauspicious altars My soul the faithfull’st offerings hath breath'd out, That e'er devotion tender'd! What shall I do? Cli. Even what it please my lord, that shall be
come him. Duke. Why should I not, had I the heart to do it, Like to the Egyptian thief?, at point of death, Kill what I love; a savage jealousy, That sometime savours nobly ?-But hear me this: Since you to non-regardance cast my faith, And that I partly know the instrument
6 Dull, gross:
7 This EGYPTIAN THIEF was Thyamis. The story is related in the Aethiopics of Heliodoras. He was the chief of a band of
robbers. Theogenes and Chariclea falling into their hands, ThyaBil:
, being attacked by a stronger band of robbers, be was in such fear for his mistrè83 that he causes her to be shut into a cave with his treasure. It was customary with those barbarians, when they despaired of their own safety, first to make away with those whom they held most dear, and desired for companions in the next life. Thyamis therefore benetted round with enemies, raging with love, jealousy, and anger, went to his cave, and callivg alond in the Egyptian tongue, so soon as he heard himself answered towards the cave's mouth by a Grecian, making to the person by the direction of her voice, he caught her by the hair with his left hand, and (supposing her to be Chariclea) with his right hand plunged his sword into her breast.
That screws me from iny true place in your favour,
Vio. And I, most jocund, apt, and willingly,
[Following Oli. Where goes Cesario? Vio
After him I love, More than I love these eyes, more than my life, More, by all mores, than e'er I shall love wife; If I do feign, you witnesses above, Punish my life, for tainting of my love! Oli. Ah me, detested! how am I beguil'd! Vio. Who does beguile you? who does do you
wrong? Oli, Hast thou forgot thyself! Is it so long !Call forth the holy father. [Exit an Attendant. Duke.
Come away. [To VJOLA. Oli. Whither my lord? -Cesario, husband, stay. Duke. Husband !
Ay, husband; Can he that deny ? Duke. Her husband, sirrah? Vio
No, my lord not I. Oli. Alas, it is the baseness of thy fear, That makes thee strangle thy propriety®: Fear not, Cesario, take thy fortunes up; Be that thou know'st thou art, and then thou art As great as that thou fear'st.0, welcome, father!
Re-enter Attendant and Priest. Father, I charge thee, by thy reverence, Here to unfold (though lately we intended
8 i e. suppress, or disown thy property.
To keep in darkness, what occasion now Reveals before 'tis ripe), what thou dost know, Hath newly past between this youth and me.
Priest. A contract of eternal bond of love, Confirm'd by mutual joinder of your hands, Attested by the holy close of lips, Strengthened by interchangement of your rings 9; And all the ceremony of this compact Seald in my function, by my testimony: Since when, my watch hath told me,
my grave I have travell’d but two hours.
Duke. O, thou dissembling cub! what wilt thou be, When time hath sow'd a grizzle on thy case 10? Or will not else thy craft so quickly grew, That thine own trip shall be thine overthrow ? Farewell, and take her; but direct thy feet, Where thou and I henceforth may never meet. Vio. My lord, I do protest, Oli.
0, do not swear; Hold little faith, though thou hast too much fear. Enter SiR ANDREW AGUE-CHEEK, with his head
broke. Sir And. For the love of God, a surgeon; send one presently to Sir Toby. Oli. What's the matter? Sir And. He has broke my head across, and has given Sir Toby a bloody coxcomb too: for the love of God, your help: I had rather than forty pound, I were at home. Oli. Who has done this, Sir Andrew ? Sir And. The count's gentleman, one Cesario: we took him for a coward, but he's the very devil incardinate.
9 In ancient espousals the man received as well as gave a ring. 20 So, in Cary's Present State of England, 1626. Queen Elizabeth asked a knigbt named Young, how he liked a company of brave ladies ? He answered as I like my silver haired conies at home, the cases are far better than the bodies."
Duke. My gentleman, Cesario? Sir And. Od's lifelings, here he is:--You broke my head for nothing and that that I did, I was set on to do't by Sir Toby.
Vio. Why do you speak to me? I never hurt you: You drew your sword upon me, without cause ; But I bespake you fair, and hurt you not.
Sir And. If a bloody coxcomb be a hurt, you have hurt me; I think you set nothing by a bloody coxcomb.
Enter Sir Toby Belch, drunk , led by the Clown. Here comes Sir Toby halting, you shall hear more: but if he had not been in drink, he would have tickled you othergates 11 than he did. Duke. Ilow now, gentleman ? how is't with you?
Sir To. That's all one; be has hurt me, and there's the end on't.-Sot, didst see Dick surgeon, sot ?
Clo. O he's drunk, Sir Toby, an hour agone; his eyes were set at eight i'the morning.
Sir To. Then he's a rogue, and a passy-measures pavin 12; I hate a drunken rogue.
Oli. Away with him: Who hath made this havock with them? Sir And. I'll help you,
Sir Toby, because we'll be dressed together.
Sir To. Will you help?-An ass-head, and a coxcomb, and a knave? a thin-faced knave, a gull ?
11 Otherways. 12. The pavin was a grave Spanish dance. Sir John Hawkins derives it from påvo a peacock, and says that every pavin had its galliard a lighter kind of air formed out of the former, Thus, in Middleton's More Dissemblers beside. Wamen :
nothing but ill favour'dly, A strain or two of passe measures galliard.' By which it appears that the passy-measure pavan, and the passy measure galliard were only two different measures of one dance, Sir Toby therefore means by this quaint expression that the surgeon is a rogue and a grave solemn coxcomb. In the first act of the play he has shown himself well acquainted with the various kinds of dance. Shakspeare's characters are always consistent, and even in drunkenness preserve the traits of character which distinguished them when sober,