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Mar. He hath, indeed, -almost natural : for, beOr was so very late ; for but a month
sides that he's a fool, he's a great quarreller; and, Ago I went from hence; and then 'twas fresh but that he hath the gift of a coward to allay the In murmur (as, you know, what great ones do, gust he hath in quarrelling, 'tis thought among The less will prattle of,) that he did seek the prudent, he would quickly have the gist of a The love of fair Olivia.
grave. Vio. What's she?
Sir To. By this hand, they are scoundrels, and Cap. A virtuous maid, the daughter of a count substractors, that say so of him. Who are they? That died some twelvemonth since; then leaving Mar. They that add moreover, he's drunk nighther
ly in your company. In the protection of his son, her brother,
Sir To. With drinking healths to my niece; I'II Who shortly also died: for whose dear love, drink to her, as long as there is a passage in my They say, she hath abjur'd the company
throat, and drink in Illyria : he's a coward and a And sight of men.
coystril, that will not drink to my niece, till his Vio.
O, that I served that lady; brains turn o’ the toe, like a parish-top.' What,
Enter Sir Andrew Ague-cheek.
Sir And. Sir Toby Belch! how now, sir Toby
Sir To, Sweet sir Andrew ? Doth oft close in pollution, yet of thee
Sir And. Bless you, fair shrew. I will believe, thou hast a mind that suits
Mar. And you too, sir. With this thy fair and outward character.
Sir To. Accost, sir Andrew, accost. I pray thee, and I'll pay thee bounteously,
Sir And. What's that? Conceal me what I am ; and be my aid
Sir To. My niece's chamber-maid. For such disguise as, haply, shall become
Sir And. Good mistress Acco., I desire better The form of my intent. "I'll serve this duke;
acquaintance. Thou shalt present me as a eunuch to him,
Mar. My name is Mary, sir. It may be worth thy pains; for I can sing,
Sir And. Good mistress Mary Accost,And speak to him in many sorts of music,
Sir To. You mistake, knight : accost, is, front That will allow me very worth his service.
her, board her, woo her, assail her. What else may hap, to time I will commit; Sir And. By my troth, I would not undertake Only shape thou thy silence to my wit.
her in this company. Is that the meaning of accost? Cap. Be you his eunuch, and your mute l'H be:
Mar. Fare you well, gentlemen. When my tongue blabs, then let mine eyes not see!
Sir To. An thou let part so, sir Andrew, 'would Vio. I thank thee: lead me on. (E.reunt. thou might'st never draw sword again.
Sir And. An you part so, mistress, I would I SCENE III.A room in Olivia's house. Enter might never draw sword again. Fair lady, do you Sir Toby Belch and Maria.
think you have fools in hand ?
Mar. Sir, I have not you by the hand. Sir To. What a plague means my niece, to take Sir And. Marry, but you shall have; and here's the death of her brother thus ? I am sure, care's my hand. an enemy to life.
Mar. Now, sir, thought is free ; I pray you, bring Mar. By troth, sir Toby, you must come in your hand to the buttery-bar, and let it drink. earlier o' nights; your cousin, my lady, takes great Sir And. Wherefore, sweetheart? what's your exceptions to your ill hours.
metaphor ? Sir To. Why, let her except before excepted. Mar. It's dry, sir.
Mar. Ay, but you must confine yourself within Sir And. Why, I think so; I am not such an ass, the modest limits of order.
but I can keep my hand dry. But what's your jest? Sir To. Confine ? I'll confine myself no finer than Mar. A dry jest, sir. I am: these clothes are good enough to drink in, Sir And. Are you full of them ? and so be these boots too, an they be not, let them Mar. Ay, sir; I have them at my fingers' ends : hang themselves in their own straps.
marry, now I let go your hand, I am barren. Mar. That quaffing and drinking will undo you:
(Exit Maria. I heard my lady talk of it yesterday; and of a Sir To. O knight, thou lack'st a cup of canary. foolish knight, that you brought in one night here, when did I see thee so put down? to be her wooer.
Sir And. Never in your life, I think ; unless you Sir To. Who? Sir Andrew Ague-cheek? see canary put me down: méthinks, sometimes I Mar. Ay, he.
have no more wit than a Christian, or an ordinary Sir To. He's as talle a man as any's in Illyria. man has : but I am a great eater of beef, and, 1 Mar. What's that to the purpose ?
believe, that does harm to my wit. Sir To. Why, he has three thousand ducats a Sir To. No question. year:
Sir And. An I thought that, I'd forswear it. I'll Mar. Ay, but he'll have but a year in all these ride home to-morrow, sir Toby. ducats; he's a very fool, and a prodigal.
Sir To. Pourquoy, my dear knight? Sir To. Fie, that you'll say so! he plays o' the Sir And. What is pourquoy ? do or not do? I viol-de-gambo, and speaks three or four languages would I had bestowed that time in the tongues, word for word' without book, and hath all the good that I have in fencing, dancing, and bear-baiting :gifts of nature.
lo, had I but followed the arts !
(5) Keystril, a bastard hawk.
Sir To. Then hadst thou had an excellent bead To thee the book even of my secret soul : of hair.
Therefore, good youth, address thy gait' unto her ; Sir And. Why, would that have mended my hair? Be not deny'd access, stand at her doors,
Sir To. Past question ; for thou seest, it will not And tell them, there thy fixed foot shall grow, curl by nature.
Till thou have audience. Sir And. But it becomes me well enough, does't
Sure, my noble lord, not?
If she be so abandon'd to her sorrow Sir To. Excellent; it hangs like Alax on a dis- As it is spoke, she never will admit me. taff; and I hope to see a housewife take thee be Duke. Be clamorous, and leap all civil bounds, tween her legs, and spin it off.
Rather than make unprofited return. Sir Ind. 'Faith, I'll home to-morrow, sir Toby: Vio. Say, I do speak with her, my lord; what your niec will not be seen; or, if she be, it's four then? to one she'll none of nie: the count himself, here Duke. O, then unsold the passion of my love, hard by, woos her.
Surprise her with discourse of my dear faith: Sir Tó. She'll none o' the count: she'll not match It shall become thee well to act my woes ; above her degree, neither in estate, years, nor wit; She will attend it better in thy youth, I have heard her swear it. Tut, there's life in't, Than in a nuncio of more grave aspect. man.
Vio. I think not so, my lord. Sir And. I'll stay a month longer. I am a fel Duke.
Dear lad, believe it, low o'the strangest mind i' the world; I delight in For they shall yet belie thy happy years masques and revels sometimes altogether. That say, thou art a man: Diana's lip
Sir To. Art thou good at these kick-shaws, is not more smooth and rubious ; thy small pipe knight?
Is as the maiden's organ, shrill and sound, Sir And. As any man in Illyria, whatsoever he And all is semblative a woman's part. be, under the degree of my belters; and yet I will I know, thy constellation is right apt not compare with an old man.
For this affair:-Some four, or five, attend him, Sir To. What is thy excellence in a galliard, All, if you will; for I myself am best, knight?
When least in company :-Prosper well in this, Sir And. 'Faith, I can cut a caper.
And thou shalt live as freely as thy lord, Sir To. And I can cut the mutton to't.
To call his fortunes thine. Sir And. And, I think, I have the back-trick,
I'll do my best, simply as strong as any man in Illyria.
To woo your lady: yet (Aside.) a barful* 'strife! Sir To. Wherefore are these things hid? where- Whoe'er I woo, myself would be his wife. fore have these gists a curtain before them? are
(Exeunt. they like to take dust, like mistress Mall's picture ? Why dost thou not go to church in a galliard, SCENE V room in Olivia's house. Enter and come home in a coranto? My very walk
Maria and Clown. should be a jig; I would not so much as make water, but in a sink-a-pace.' What dost thou Mar. Nay, either tell me where thou hast been, mean? is it a world to hide virtues in ? I did think, or I will not open my lips so wide as a bristle may by the excellent constitution of thy leg, it was enter, in way of thy excuse : my lady will hang formed under the star of a galliard.
thee for thy absence. Sir And. Ay, 'tis strong, and it does indifferent Clo. Lei her hang me: he, that is well hanged well in a fame-coloured stock.. Shall we set about in this world, needs to fear no colours. some revels?
Mar. Make that good. Sir To. What shall we do else ? were we not Clo. He shall see none to sear. born under Taurus?
Mar. A good lenten answer: I can tell thee Sir And. Taurus ? that's sides and heart. where that saying was born, of, I fear no colours.
Sir To. No, sir; it is legs and thighs. Let me Clo. Where, good mistress Mary? see thee caper: ha! higher: ha, ha -excellent! Mar. In the wars; and that may you be bold to
(Exeunt. say in your foolery.
, God give them wisdom, that have it; SCENE IV:-A room in the Duke's palace. En- and those that are fools, let them use their talents.
ter Valentine, and Viola in man's attire. Mar. Yet you will be hanged, for being so long Val. If the duke continue these favours towards as a hanging to you?
absent : or, to be turned away, is not that as good you, Cesario, you are like to be much advanced ; he hath known you but three days, and already riage ; and, for turning away, let sunimer bear it
Clo. Many a good hanging prevents a bad mar. you are no stranger.
out. Vio. You either fear his humour, or my negli Mar. You are resolute then ? gence, that you call in question the continuance of
Clo. Not so neither ; but I am resolved on two his love: is he inconstant, sir, in his favours ?
points. Val. No, believe me.
Mar. That, if one break, the other will hold ; or,
if both break, your gaskins fall.
Clo. Apt, in good faith ; very apt! Well, go thy Vio. I thank you. Here comes the count. way; if sir Toby would leave drinking, thou wert Duke. Who saw Cesario, ho ?
as witty a piece of Eve's Aesh as any in Illyria.
(6) Points were hooks which fastened the hose (4) Full of impediments.
Enter Olivia and Malvolio.
Re-enter Maria. Clo. Wit, an't be thy will, put me into good fool Mar. Madam, there is at the gate a young gening! Those wits, that think they have thee, do very tleman, much desires to speak with you. off prove fools ; and I, that am sure I lack thee, Oli. From the count Orsino, is it? may pass for a wise man: for what says Quinapao Mar. I know not, madam ; 'tis a fair young man, lus? Better a witty fool, than a foolish wit.-God and well attended. bless thee, lady!
Oli. Who of my people hold him in delay? Oli. Take the fool away.
Mar. Sir Toby, madam, your kinsman. Clo. Do you not hear, fellows? take away the Oli. Fetch him off, I pray you; he speaks nolady.
thing but madman: tie on him Érit Maria.
Go Oli. Go to, you are a dry fool; I'll no more of you, Malvolio; if it be a suit from the count, you: besides, you grow dishonest.
sick, or not at home; what you will, to dismiss it. Clo. Two faults, madonna,' that drink and good (Exit Malvolio.) Now you see, sir, how your foulcounsel will amend : for give the dry fool drink, ing grows old, and people dislike it. then is the fool not dry; bid the dishonest mend Clo. Thou hast spoke for us, madonna, as if thy himself; if he mend, he is no longer dishonest; if eldest son should be a fool : whose skull Jove cram he cannot, let the botcher mend him: any thing, with brains, for here he comes, one of thy kin, has that's mended, is but patched : virtue, that trans- a most weak pia mater.. gresses, is but patched with sin; and sin, that amends, is but patched with virtue: if that this
Enter Sir Toby Belch. simple syllogism will serve, so; if it will not, what
Oli. By mine honour, half drunk.-What is he remedy? As there is no true cuckold but calamity, so beauty's a flower :-the lady bade take away the at the gate, cousin ?
Sir 70. A gentleman. fool; therefore, I say again, take her away. Oli. Sir, 1 bade them take away you.
Oli. A gentleman ? What gentleman ? Clo. Misprision in the highest degree !-Lady, these pickle-herrings !-How now, sot ?
Sir To. 'Tis a gentleman here- A plague o' Cucullus non facit monachum ; that's as much as
Clo. Good sir Toby,to say, I wear not motley in my brain. Good ma
Oli. Cousin, cousin, how have you come so early donna, give me leave to prove you a fool. Oli. Can you do it?
by this lethargy? Clo. Dexterously, good madonna.
Sir To. Leckery! I defy lechery: there's one at
the gate. Oli. Make your proof. Clo. I must catechise you for it, madonna ; good
Oli. Ay, marry; what is he?
Sir To. Let him be the devil, an he will, I care my mouse of virtue, answer me. Oli. Well, sir, for want of other idleness, 1'11 not: give me faith, say I. Well, it's all one.
[Exil. 'bide your proof.
Oli. What's a drunken man like, fool?
Clo. Like a drown'd man, a fool, and a madClo, I think, his soul is in hell, madonna.
man: one draught above heat makes him a fool;
the second mads him; and a third drowns him. Oli. I know his soul is in heaven, fool.
Oli. Go thou and seek the coroner, and let him Clo. The more fool you, madonna, to mourn for your brother's soul being in heaven. —Take away he's drown'd! go, look after him.
sit o' my coz; for he's in the third degree of drink, the fool, gentlemen. Oli. What think you of this fool, Malvolio? doth shall look to the madman.
Clo. He is but mad yet, madonna; and the fool
[Exit Clown. he not mend ? Mal. Yes; and shall do, till the pangs of death
Re-enter Malvolio. shake him: infirmity, that decays the wise, doth ever make the better fool.
Mal. Madam, yond young fellow swears he will Clo. God send you, sir, a spcedy infirmity, for speak with you.' I told him you were sick; he takes the better increasing your folly! Sir Toby will be on him to understand so much, and therefore comes sworn, that I am no fox; but he will not pass his to speak with you: I told him you were asleep; he word for two-pence that you are no fool. seems to have a fore-knowledge of that too, and Oli. How say you to that, Malvolio ?
therefore comes to speak with you. What is to be Mal. I marvel your ladyship takes delight in said to him, lady? he's fortified against any denial. such a barren rascal: I saw him put down the Oli. Tell him, he shall not speak with ine. other day with an ordinary fool, that has no more Mal. He has been told so: and he says, he'll brain than a stone. Look you now, he's out of his stand at your door like a sheriff's post, and be the guard already; unless you laugh and minister oc- supporter of a bench, but he'll speak with you. casion to him, he is gagged. I proiest, I take these Oli. What kind of man is he? wise men, that crow so at these set kind of fools, Mal. Why, of man kind. no better than the fools' zanies. ?
Oli. What manner of man? Oli. O, you are sick of self-love, Malvolio, and Mal. Of very ill manner : he'll speak with you, taste with a distempered appetite. To be generous, will you, or no. guiltless, and of free disposition, is to take those Oli. Of what personage, and years, is he? things for bird-bolts,' that you deem cannon-bul Mal. Not yet old enough for a man, nor young lets : there is no slander in an allowed fool, though enough for a boy ; as a squash is before 'tis a peashe do nothing but rail; nor no railing in a known cod, or a codling when 'tis almost an apple: 'tis discreet man, though he do nothing but reprove. with him e'en standing water, between boy and
Clo. Now Mercury endue thee with leasing, man. He is very well-favoured, and he speaks for thou speakest well of fools !
very shrewishly ; one would think, his mother's
milk were scarce out of him. (1) Italian, mistress, dame. (2) Fools' baubles. (3) Short arrows. (4) Lying.
(5) The cover of the brain.
Oli. Let him approach: call in my gentlewoman. Oli. A comfortable doctrine, and much may be
Vio. In Orsino's bosom.
Oli. In his bosom? In what chapter of his bosom?
Vio. To answer by the method, in the first of Oli. Give me my veil : come, throw it o'er my his heart. face;
Oli. O, I have read it; it is heresy. Have you We'll once more hear Orsino's embassy.
no more to say ?
Vio. Good madam, let me see your face.
Oli. Have you any commission from your lord to
negociate with my face? you are now out of your Vio. The honourable lady of the house, which text : but we will draw the curtain, and show you is she?
the picture. Look you, sir, such' a one as I was Oli. Speak to me, I shall answer for her. Your this present :: is't not well done? [Unveiling: will ?
Vio. Excellently done, if God did all. Vio. Most radiant, exquisite, and unmatchable
Oli. "Tis in grain, sir; 'twill endure wind and beauty,- pray you, tell me, if this be the lady of weather. the house, for I never saw her: I would be loath to
Vio. 'Tis beauty truly blent," whose red and cast away my speech; for, besides that it is excel
white fently well penn'd, I have taken great pains to con Nature's own sweet and cunning hand laid on: it. Good beauties, let me sustain no scorn; I am Lady, you are the cruell'st she alive, yery comptible,' even to the least sinister usage,
If you will lead these graces to the grave, Oli. Whence came you, sir ?
And leave the world no copy. Vio. I can say little more than I have studied,
Oli. O, sir, I will not be so hard-hearted; I will and that question's out of my pari. Good gentle give out divers schedules of my beauty: it shall be one, give me modest assurance, if you be the lady inventoried; and every particle, and utensil, laof the bouse, that I may proceed in my speech.
belled to my will: as, item, two lips indifferent red; Oli. Are you a comedian ?
item, two grey eyes, with lids to them ; item, one Vio. No, my profound heart: and yet, by the neck, one chin, and so forth. Were you sent very fangs of malice, I swear, I am not that I play. hither to 'praise me? Are you the lady of the house?
Vio. I see you what you are : you are too proud: Oli. If I do not usurp myself, I am.
But, if you were the devil, you are fair. Vio. Most certain, if you are she, you do usurp My lord and master loves you; 0, such love yourself ; for what is yours to bestow, is not yours Could but be recompens'd, though you were to reserve. But this is from my commission: I will
crown'd on with my speech in your praise, and then show The nonpareil of beauty! you the heart of my message,
How does he love me? Oli, Come to what important in't: I forgive Vio. With adorations, with sertile tears, you the praise,
With groans that thunder love, with sighs of fire. Vio. Alas, I took great pains to study it, and Oli. Your lord does know my mind, I cannot 'tis poetical.
love him: Oli, It is the more like to be seigned ; I pray you Yet I suppose him virtuous, know him noble, keep it in. I heard, you were saucy at my gates : Or great estate, of fresh and stainless youth; and allowed your approach, rather to wonder at In voices well divulg'd, free, learn'd, and valiant, you than to hear you. If you be not mad, be And, in dimension, and the shape of nature, gone ; if you have reason, he brief: 'tis not thal A gracious person? but yet I cannot love him; time of moon with me, to make one in so skipping He might have took his answer long ago. a dialogue.
Vio. If I did love you in my master's flame, Mar. Will you hoist sail, sir ? here lies your way. With such a suffering, such a deadly life,
Vio. No, good swabber: I am to hull here a In your denial I would find no sense, little longer. --Some mollification for your giant, I would not understand it. sweet lady.
Why, what would you" Oli. Tell me your mind,
Vio. Make me a willow cabin at your gate, Vio. I am a messenger. Oli. Sure, you have some hideous matter to de- Write loyal cantons of contemned love,
And call upon my soul within the house liver, when the courtesy of it is so fearful. Speak And sing them loud even in the dead of night, your office.
Holla your name to the reverberate hills, Vio. It alone concerns your ear. I bring no And make the babbling gossip of the air overture of war, no taxation of homage; I hold Cry out, Olivia! O, you should not rest the olive in my hand: my words are as full of peace Between the elements of air and earth, as matter.
But you should pity me. Oli. Yet you began rudely. What are you? Oli. You might do much: What is your parent what would you ?
age ? Vio. The rudeness that hath appear'd in me, Vio. Above my fortunes, yet my state is well : have I learn'd from my entertainment. What I am, I am a gentleman. and what I would, are as secret as maidenhead: to
Get you to your lord; your ears, divinity; to any other's, profanation. I cannot love him: let him send no more;
Oli. Give us the place alone: we will hear this Unless, perchance, you come to me again, divinity.[ Exit Maria.]Now; sir, what is your text? To tell me how he takes it. Pare you well :
Vio. Most sweet lady,(1) Accountable.
(3) Presents. (4) Blended, mixed together, (2) It appears from several parts of this play,
(5) Well spoken of by the world. that the original actress of Maria was very short.
(6) Cantos, verses. (7) Echoing,
I thank you for your pains: spend this for me. not but call fair: she is drowned already, sir, with
Vio. I am no fee'd post,' lady; keep your purse; salt water, though I seem to drown her remem.
Seb. O, good Antonio, forgive me your trouble. Plac'd in contempt! Farewell
, fair cruelty. (Erit. Ant. If you will not murder me for my love, let Oli. What is your parentage ?
me be ycur servan Above my fortunes, yet my state is well :
Seb." If you will not undo what you have done, I am a gentleman. I'll be sworn thou art; that is, kill him whom you have recorered, desire Thy tongue, thy face, thy limbs, actions, and spirit, it not. Fare ye well at once: my bosom is full of Do give thee five-fold blazon:Not too fast: kindness; and I am yet so near the manners of my soft! soft!
mother, that upon the least occasion more, mine Unless the master were the man.-How now? eyes will tell tales of me. I am bound to the Even so quickly may one catch the plague ? count Orsino's court: farewell.
[Exil. Methinks, I feel this youth's perfections,
Ant. The gentleness of all the gods go with thee! With an invisible and subtle stealth,
I have many enemies in Orsino's court, To creep in at mine eyes. Well, let it be. Else would I very shortly see thee there : What, ho, Malvolio !
But, come what may. I do adore thee so,
That danger shall seem sport, and I will go. [Exil. Re-enter Malvolio. Mal.
SCENE II.-A street. Enter Viola ; Malvolio Here, madam, at your service. Oli. Run after that same peevish messenger,
following. The county'sd man: he left this ring behind him, Mal. Were not you even now with the countess Would I, or not: tell him, I'll none of it. Olivia ? Desire him not to flatter with his lord,
Vio. Even now, sir; on a moderate pace I have Nor hold him up with hopes; I am not for him : since arrived but hither. Is that the youth will come this way to-morrow,
Mal. She returns this ring to you, sir ; you might I'll give him reasons for't. Hie thee, Malvolio. have saved me my pains, to have taken it away Mal. Madam, I will.
(Exit. yourself. She adds moreover, that you should put Oli. I do I know not what: and fear to find your lord into a desperate assurance she will none Mine eye too great a flatterer for my mind. or him: and one thing more; that you be never Fate, show thy force: ourselves we do not owe ; so hardy to come again in his affairs, unless it be to What is decreed, must be ; and be this so! (Excit. report your lord's taking of this. Receive it so.
Vio. She took the ring of me; I'll none of it.
Mal. Come, sir, you peevishly threw it to her ;
and her will is, it should be so returned: if it be ACT II.
worth stooping for, there it lies in your eye; if not, SCENE I.-The sea-coast. Enter Antonio and be it his that finds it.
Vio. I left no ring with her: what means this lady?
Fortune forbid, my outside have not charm'd her! Ant. Will you stay no longer ? nor will you not, She made good view of me; indeed, so much, that I go with you ?
That, sure, methought, her eyes had lost her Seb. By your patience, no: my stars shine dark
tongue, ly over me: the malignancy of my fate might, For she did speak in starts distractedly. perhaps, distemper yours; therefore I shall crave She loves me, sure; the cunning of her passion of you your leave, that I may bear my evils alone : Invites me in this churlish messenger. it were a bad recompense for your love, to lay any None of my lord's ring! why, he sent her none, of them on you.
I am the man;-if it be so (as 'tis,) Ant. Let me yet know of you, whither you are Poor lady, she were better love a dream, bound.
Disguise, I see, thou art a wickedness, Seb. No, 'sooth, sir; my determinate voyage is Wherein the pregnante enemy does much. mere extravaganey. But I perceive in you so ex- How easy is it, for the proper-false" cellent a touch of modesty, that you will not extort In women's waxen hearts to set their forms from me what I am willing to keep in ; therefore Alas! our frailty is the cause, not we; it charges me in manners the rather to express For, such as we are made of, such we be. myself. You must know of me then, Antonio, my How will this fadge ?" My master loves her dearly, name is Sebastian, which I called Rodrigo; my And I, poor monster, fond as much on him; father was that Sebastian of Messaline, whom 1 And she, mistaken, seems to dote on me: know, you have heard of : he left behind him, What will become of this ! As I am man, myself, and a sister, both born in an hour. If the My state is desperate for my master's love; heavens had been pleased, 'would we had solAs I am woman, now alas the day! ended! but you, sir, altered that; for, some hourWhat thriftless sighs shall poor Olivia breathe ? before you took me from the breach of the sea, was 9 time, thou must untangle this, not l; my sister drowned.
It is too hard a knot for me to untie. (Exit. Ant. Alas, the day!
SCENE III.A room in Olivia's house, Enter Seb. A lady, sir, though it was said she much resembled me, was yet of many accounted beauti
Sir Toby Belch, and Sir Andrew Ague-cheek. ful: but, though I could not, with such estimable Sir To. Approach, sir Andrew: not to be a-bed wonder, overfar believe that, yet thus far I will after midnight, is to be up betimes; and diluculo boldly publish her, she bore a mind that envy could surgere, thou know'st,
(1) Messenger. (2) Proclamation of gentility. (6) Dexterous, ready fiend.
(5) Reveal. (7) Fair deceiver, (8) Suit,