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Pal. When night-dogs run, all sorts of deer are culous characters can confer praise only on him who chas'd. originally discovered it, for it requires not much of either

Eva. I will dance and eat plums at your wed-wit or judgment; its success must be derived almost

ding.

Mrs. Page. Well, I will muse no further :-mas-
ter Fenton,

Heaven give you many, many merry days!
Good husband, let us every one go home,
And laugh this sport o'er by a country fire;
Sir John and all.

Ford.
To master Brook you yet shall hold your word;
For he to-night shall lie with mistress Ford.

Let it be so :-Sir John,

[Exeunt.

[Ot this play there is a tradition preserved by Mr. Rowe, that it was written at the command of Queen, Elizabeth, who was so delighted with the character of Falstaff, that she wished it to be diffused through more plays; but suspecting that it might pall by continued uniformity, directed the poet to diversify his manner, by showing him in love. No task is harder than that of writing to the ideas of another. Shakspeare knew what the queen, if the story be true, seems not to have known, that by any real passion of tenderness, the selfish craft, the careless jollity, and the lazy luxury of Falstaff must have suffered so much abatement, that little of his former cast would have remained." Falstaff could not Jove, but by ceasing to be Falstaff. He could only counterfeit love, and his professions could be prompted, not by the hope of pleasure, but of money. Thus the poet approached as near as he could to the work enjoined him; yet, having perhaps in the former plays completed his own idea, seems not to have been able to. give Falstaff all his former power of entertainment.

This comedy is remarkable for the variety and num. ber of the personages, who exhibit more characters, appropriated and discriminated, than perhaps can be found in any other play.

Whether Shakspeare was the first that produced upon the English stage the effect of language distorted and depraved by provincial or foreign pronunciation, I cannot certainly decide. This mode of forming ridi

1 Young and old, does as well as bucks. He alludes to Fenton's having run down Anne Page.

wholly from the player, but its power in a skilful mouth even he that dispises it is unable to resist.

The conduct of this drama is deficient; the action begins and ends often, before the conclusion, and the dif ferent parts might change places without inconvenience; but its general power, that power by which all works of genius shall finally be tried, is such, that perhaps it never yet had reader or spectator who did not think it too soon at the end. JOHNSON.]

THE PASTORAL BY CH. MARLOWE.
Referred to Act iii. Sc. 1, of the foregoing P.ay
Come, live with me, and be my love,
And we will all the pleasures prove,
That hills and valleys, dales and field,
And all the craggy mountains yield.
There will we sit upon the rocks,
And see the shepherds feed their flocks,
By shallow rivers, by whose falls
Melodious birds sing madrigals:
There will I make thee beds of roses
With a thousand fragrant posies,
A cap of flowers and a kirtle
Embroider'd all with leaves of myrtle;
A gown made of the finest wool,
Which from the pretty lambs we pull:
Fair lined slippers for the cold,
With buckles of the purest gold;
A belt of straw, and ivy buds,
With coral clasps and amber studs:
And if these pleasures may thee move,
Come, live with me, and be my love.
Thy silver dishes for thy meat,
As precious as the gods do eat,
Shall on thy ivory table be
Prepared each day for thee and me.
The shepherd swains shall dance and sing
For thy delight, each May morning:
If these delights thy mind may move,
Then live with me, and be my love.

of Windsor. The hero of it speaks such another jargon
as the antagonist of Sir Hugh, and like him is cheated

2 In The Three Ladies of London, 1584, is the cha-of his mistress. In several other pieces, more ancient racter of an Italian Merchant very strongly marked by foreign pronunciation. Dr. Dodypoll, in the comedy of that name, is, like Caius, a French physician. This piece appeared at least a year before The Merry Wives

than the earliest of Shakspeare's, provincial characters are introduced. In the old play of Henry V. French soldiers are introduced speaking broken English. STEEVENS

TWELFTH NIGHT; OR, WHAT YOU WILL.

PRELIMINARY REMARKS.

THE plot of this admirable Comedy appears to have by exposing their absurdity. "How are his weaknesses been taken from the second tale in a collection by nursed and dandled by Sir Toby into something high Barnabe Riche, entitled, "Rich his Farewell to the fantastical' when, on Sir Andrew's commendation of Militarie Profession," which was first printed in 1533. himself for dancing and fencing, Sir Toby answers→→ It is probably borrowed from Les Histoires Tragiques Wherefore are these things hid? Wherefore have de Belleforest, vol. iv. Hist. vijme. Belleforest, as usual, these gifts a curtain before them? Are they like to take copied Bandello. In the fifth eglog of Barnaby Googe,dust like Mistress Mall's picture? Why dost thou not published with his poems in 1563, an incident some- go to church in a galliard, and come home in a coranto? what similar to that of the duke sending his page to My very walk should be a jig! I would not so much as plead his cause with the lady, and the lady falling in make water in a cinque-a pace. What dost thou mean? love with the page, may be found. But Rich's narra- Is this a world to hide virtues in? I did think by the ex tion is the more probable source, and resembles the plot cellent constitution of thy leg, it was framed under the more completely. It is too long for insertion here, but star of a galliard! How Sir Toby, Sir Andrew, and may be found in the late edition of Malone's Shak- the clown chirp over their cups; how they rouse the speare, by Mr. Boswell. night-owl in a catch able to draw three souls out of one The comic scenes appear to have been entirely the weaver!-What can be better than Sir Toby's unan creation of the poet, and they are worthy of his tran-swerable answer to Malvolio: Dost thou think, be scendent genius. It is indeed one of the most delightful cause thou art virtuous, there shall be no more cakes of Shakspeare's comedies. Dr. Johnson thought the and ale ?-We have a friendship for Sir Toby; we panatural fatuity of Ague-cheek hardly fair game, but the tronize Sir Andrew; we have an understanding with good-nature with which his folly and his pretensions the clown, a sneaking kindness for Maria and her ro are brought forward for our amusement, by humouring his whims, are almost without a spice of satire. It is rather an attempt to give pleasure by exhibiting an exaggerated picture of his foibles, than a wish to give pain

queries; we feel a regard for Malvolio, and sympa thize with his gravity, his smiles, his cross-garters his yellow stockings, and imprisonment in the stocks But there is something that excites in us a stronger

feeling than all this, it is Viola's confession of her iove.

Duke. What's her history?

Viola. A blank, my lord: She never told her love,
But let concealment, like a worm i' the bud,
Feed on her damask cheek: she pin'd in thought;
And, with a green and yellow melancholy,
She sat like Patience on a monument,
Smiling at grief. Was not this love, indeed?
We men may say more, swear more; but, indeed,
Our shows are more than will; for still we prove
Much in our vows, but little in our love.

Duke. But died thy sister of her love, my boy?
Viola. I am all the daughters of my father's house,
And all the brothers too;-and yet I know not.

sing wind draws from the trembling strings of a harp left on some desert shore! There are other passages of not less impassioned sweetness. Such is Olivia's address to Sebastian, whom she supposed to have already deceived her in a promise of marriage.

'Blame not this haste of mine:

Plight me the full assurance of your faith,
That my most jealous and too doubtful soul
May live at peace.'

"One of the most beautiful of Shakspeare's Songs occurs in this play with a preface of his own to it.

'Duke. O fellow, come, the song we had last night.. Mark it, Cesario; it is old, and plain;

The spinsters and the knitters in the sun,
And the free maids that weave their thread with bones

"Shakspeare alone could describe the effect of his Do use to chaunt it; it is silly sooth, own poetry:

"O, it came o'er my ear like the sweet south, That breathes upon a bank of violets, Stealing, and giving odour."

"What we so much admire here is not the image of Patience on a monument, which has been so generally quoted, but the lines before and after it, "They give a

very echo to the seat where love is throned." How long ago it is since we first learnt to repeat them; and still they vibrate on the heart like the sounds which the pas

And dallies with the innocence of love,
Like the old age."

"After reading other parts of this play, and parucularly the garden scene where Malvolio picks up the letter, if we were to say that Shakspeare's genius for comedy was less than his genius for tragedy, it would perhaps only prove that our own taste in such matters

is more saturnine than mercurial."*

* Hazlitt's Characters of Shakspeare's Plays, p. 256

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If music be the food of love, play on,
Give me excess of it; that, surfeiting,
The appetite may sicken, and so die.
That strain again;-it hath a dying fall:

no more;

O, it came o'er my ear like the sweet south,'
That breathes upon a bank of violets,
Stealing, and giving odour.2-Enough;
"Tis not so sweet now as it was before.
O spirit of love, how quick and fresh art thou!
That notwithstanding thy capacity
Receiveth as the sea, nought enters there,
Of what validity and pitch soever,
But falls into abatement and low price,
Even in a minute! so full of shapes is fancy,
That it alone is high-fantastical.4

1 The old copies read sound, the emendation is
Pope's. Rowe had changed it to wind. In Sidney's Ar-
cadia, 1590, we have- more sweet than a gentle south-
west wind which comes creeping over flowery fields.'
2 Milton has very successfully introduced the same
image in Paradise Lost:

Now gentle gales,
Fanning their odoriferous wings, dispense
Native prefumes and whisper whence they stole
Those balmy spoils."

Shakspeare, in the Ninty-ninth Sonnet, has made

violet the thief.

The forward violet thus did I chide :

the

FABIAN,

Clown, Servants to Olivia.
OLIVIA, a rich Countess.
VIOLA, in love with the Duke.
MARIA, Olivia's Woman.

Lords, Priests, Sailors, Officers, Musicians, and othe
Attendants.

SCENE, a City in Illyria; and the Sea Coast near it

Cur. Will you go hunt, my lord?

Duke.

Cur.

What, Curio?

The hart.

Duke. Why, so I do, the noblest that I have:
O, when mine eyes did see Olivia first,
Methought she purg'd the air of pestilence;
That instant was I turn'd into a hart;

And my desires, like fell and cruel hounds,
E'er since pursue me."-How now? what news
from her?

Enter VALENTINE.

Val. So please my lord, I might not be admitted,
But from her handmaid do return this answer:
The element itself, till seven years heat,"
Shall not behold her face at ample view;
But, like a cloistress, she will veiled walk,
And water once a day her chamber round
With eye-offending brine: all this, to season

A brother's dead love, which she would keep fresh,
And lasting, in her sad remembrance.

Duke. O, she, that hath a heart of that fine frame,
To pay this debt of love but to a brother,

3 Value.

4 Fantastical to the height.

5 Shakspeare seems to think men cautioned against too great familiarity with forbidden beauty by the fable of Acteon, who saw Diana naked, and was torn to pieces by his hounds; as a man indulging his eyes or his imagination with a view of a woman he cannot gain, has his heart torn with incessant longing. An interpretation far more elegant and natural than Lord Bacon's, who, in his Wisdom of the Ancients, supposes this story to warn us against inquiring into the secrets of princes, by showing that those who know that which for reasons of state ought to be concealed will be detected and destroyed by their own servants. The thought

Sweet thief, whence didst thou steal thy sweet that may have been suggested by Daniel's Fifth Sonnet, in

smells,

If not from my love's breath."

his Delia; or by Whitney's Emblems, 1586, p. 15; and a passage in the Dedication to Aldington's transPope, in his Ode on St. Cecilia's Day; and Thomson,lation of The Golden Ass of Apuleius,' 1566, may have In his Spring have availed themselves of the epithet suggested these. a dying fall

6 Heat for heated.

How will she love, when the rich golden shaft
Hath kill'd the flock' of all affections else
That live in her! when liver, brain, and heart,2
These sovereign thrones, are all supplied, and fill'd
(Her sweet perfections) with one self3 king!-
Away before me to sweet beds of flowers;
Love-thoughts lie rich, when canopied with bowers.
[Exeunt.
SCENE II. The Sea Coast. Enter VIOLA, Cap-
tain, and Sailors.

Vio. What country, friends, is this?
Cap.

Vio. There is a fair behaviour in thee, captain;
And though that nature with a beauteous wall
Doth oft close in pollution, yet of thee
I will believe, thou hast a mind that suits
With this thy fair and outward character.
I pray thee, and I'll pay thee bounteously,
Conceal me what I am; and be my aid
For such disguise as, haply, shall become
The form of my intent. I'll serve this duke
Thou shalt present me as an eunuch to him,
It may be worth thy pains; for I can sing,
And speak to him in many sorts of music,
Illyria, lady. That will allow me very worth his service.
What else may hap, to time I will commit;
Only shape thou thy silence to my wit.

Vio. And what should I do in Illyria?
My brother he is in Elysium.
Perchance he is not drown'd:-What think

sailors?

you,

Cap. It is perchance that you yourself were saved.

Cap. Be you his eunuch, and your mute I'll be: When my tongue blabs, then let mine eyes not see. Vio. I thank thee: Lead me on. [Exeunt.

Vio. O my poor brother! and so, perchance, may SCENE III. A Room in Olivia's House. Enter

he be.

Cap. True, madam: and, to comfort you with

chance,

Assure yourself, after our ship did split,
When you, and that poor number saved with you,
Hung on our driving boat, I saw your brother,
Most provident in peril, bind himself

(Courage and hope both teaching him the practice)
To a strong mast, that lived upon the sea.
Where, like Arion on the dolphin's back,
I saw him hold acquaintance with the waves,
So long as I could see.

Vio.
For saying so, there's gold:
Mine own escape unfoldeth to my hope,
Whereto thy speech serves for authority,
The like of him. Know'st thou this country?
Cap. Ay, madam, well; for I was bred and born
Not three hours travel from this very place.
Vio. Who governs here?
Cap.

As in his name?

Vio.
Сар.

A noble duke, in nature,

What is his name?

Orsino.

Vio. Orsino! I have heard my father name him: He was a bachelor then.

Cap.

And so is now,

Or was so very late: for but a month
Ago I went from hence; and then 'twas fresh
In murmur (as you know, what great ones do,
The less will prattle of,) that he did seek
The love of fair Olivia.

Vio.

What's she?

Cap. A virtuous maid, the daughter of a count
That died some twelvemonth since; then leaving her
In the protection of his son, her brother,
Who shortly also died: for whose dear love
They say she hath abjur'd the company
And sight of men.
Vio.

O, that I serv'd that lady:
And might not be delivered to the world,
Till I had made mine own occasion mellow,
What my estate is.
Cap.

That were hard to compass;
Because she will admit no kind of suit,
No, not the duke's.

1 So, in Sidney's Arcadia-" the flock of unspeaka ble virtues."

2 The liver, brain, and heart were then considered the seats of passion, judgment, and sentiments. These what Shakspeare calls her sweet perfections, though he has not very clearly expressed it.

are

3 Self king signifies seef same king, i. e. one and the same king.

SIR TOBY BELCH and MARIA.

Sir To. What a plague means my niece, to tako the death of her brother thus? I'm sure, care's an enemy to life.

Mar. By my troth, Sir Toby, you must come in earlier o'nights; your cousin, my lady, takes great exceptions to your ill hours.

Sir To. Why, let her except before excepted." Mar. Ay, but you must confine yourself within the modest limits of order.

Sir To. Confine? I'll confine myself no finer than I am: these clothes are good enough to drink in, and so be these boots too; an they be not, let them hang themselves in their own straps.

Mar. That quaffing and drinking will undo you: I heard my lady talk of it yesterday; and of a foolish knight, that you brought in one night here, to be her wooer.

Sir To. Who? Sir Andrew Ague-cheek?
Mar. Ay, he.

Sir To. He's as tall a man as any's in Illyria.
Mar. What's that to the purpose?

Sir To. Why, he has three thousand ducats a

year.

Mar. Ay, but he'll have but a year in all these ducats; he's a very fool and a prodigal.

Sir To. Fye, that you'll say so! he plays o' the viol-de-gambo, and speaks three or four languages word for word without book, and hath all the good gifts of nature.

Mar. He hath, indeed,-almost natural: for, be sides that he's a fool, he's a great quarreller; and, but that he hath the gift of a coward to allay the gust he hath in quarrelling, 'tis thought among the prudent, he would quickly have the gift of a grave.

Sir To. By this hand they are scoundrels, and substracters, that say so of him. Who are they? Mar. They that add moreover, he's drunk nightly in your company.

Sir To. With drinking healths to my niece; I'll drink to her, as long as there is a passage in my throat, and drink in Illyria: He's a coward, and a coystril, that will not drink to my niece, till his brains turn o' the toe like a parish-top. 10 What,

with the Duke, but it would have been inconsistent with her delicacy to have made an open confession of it to the Captain.

5 This plan of Viola's was not pursued, as it would have been inconsistent with the plot of the play. She was presented as a page not as an eunuch. 6 Approve.

7 A ludicrous use of a formal law phrase.

8 That is as valiant a man, as tall a man, is used here by Sir Toby with more than the usual licence of the word; he was pleased with the equivoque, and ban ters upon the diminutive stature of poor Sir Andrew and his utter want of courage.

4 i. e. I wish I might not be made public to the world, with regard to the state of my birth and fortune, till I have gained a ripe opportunity for my design. Johnson remarks that Viola seems to have formed a deep design with very little premeditation. In the novel upon which the play is founded, the Duke being 9 A coystril is a low, mean, or worthless fellow. driven upon the isle of Cyprus, by a tempest, Silla, the 10 A large top was formerly kept in every village, to daughter of the governor, falls in love with him, and on his departure goes in pursuit of him. All this Shak-be whipped in frosty weather, that the peasants might speare knew, and probably intended to tell in some fu- be kept warm by exercise, and out of mischief when To sleep like a Town-top' is a ture scene, but afterwards forgot it. Viola, in Act ii. Sc. they could not work. , plainly alludes to her having been secretly in love proverbial expression.

wench? Castiliano volto; for here comes Sir Andrew Ague-face.

Enter SIR ANDREW ACUE-CHEEK.

Sir And. Sir Toby Belch! how now, Sir Toby Belch.

Sir To. Sweet Sir Andrew!

Sir And. Bless you, fair shrew.

Mar. And you too, sir.

Sir To. Accost, Sir Andrew, accost.

Sir And. What's that?

Sir To. My niece's chamber-maid.

Sir To. Excellent; it hangs like flax on a distaff; and I hope to see a housewife take thee between her legs and spin it off.

Sir And. 'Faith, I'll home to-morrow, Sir Toby: your niece will not be seen; or, if she be, it's four to one she'll none of me: the count himself, here hard by, woos her.

Sir To. She'll none o' the count; she'll not match above her degree, neither in estate, years, nor wit; I have heard her swear it. Tut, there's life in't, man. Sir And. I'll stay a month longer. I am a fel

Sir And. Good mistress Accost, I desire better low o' the strangest mind i' the world; I delight in acquaintance.

Mar. My name is Mary, sir.

Sir And. Good mistress Mary Accost,

Sir To. You mistake, knight: accost, is, front her, board her, woo her, assail her.

Sir And. By my troth, I would not undertake her in this company. Is that the meaning of accost? Mar. Fare you well, gentlemen.

Sir To. An thou let part so, Sir Andrew, 'would. thou might'st never draw sword again.

Sir And. An you part so, mistress, I would I might never draw sword again. Fair lady, do you think you have fools in hand? Mar. Sir, I have not you by the hand. Sir And. Marry, but you shall have; and here's my hand.

Mar. Now, sir, thought is free: I pray you, bring your hand to the buttery-bar, and let it drink. Sir And. Wherefore, sweetheart? what's your metaphor?

Mar. It's dry, sir.

Sir And. Why, I think so; I am not such an ass, but I can keep my hand dry. But what's your jest? Mar. A dry jest, sir.

Sir And. Are you full of them?

Mar. Ay, sir; I have them at my fingers' ends: marry, now I let go your hand, I am barren. [Exit MARIA. Sir To. O knight, thou lack'st a cup of canary: When did I see thee so put down?

Sir And. Never in your life, I think; unless you see canary put me down: Methinks, sometimes I have no more wit than a christian, or an ordinary man has: but I am a great eater of beef, and, I believe, that does harm to my wit.

Sir To. No question.

masques and revels sometimes altogether.

Sir To. Art thou good at these kickshaws, knight? Sir And. As any man in Illyria, whatsoever 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, simply as strong as any man in Illyria.

Sir To. Wherefore are these things hid? wherefore have these gifts a curtain before them? are they like to take dust, like mistress Mall's picture? why dost thou not go to church in a galliard, and come home in a coranto? My very walk should be a jig; I would not so much as make water, but in a sink-a-pace. What dost thou mean? is it a world to hide virtues in? I did think, by the excellent constitution of thy leg, it was formed under the star of a galliard.

Sir And. Ay, 'tis strong, and it does indifferent well in a flame-coloured stock. Shall we set about

some revels?

Sir To. What shall we do else? were we not born under Taurus?

Sir And. Taurus? that's sides and heart. Sir To. No, sir; it is legs and thighs, Let me see thee caper: ha! higher: ha, ha!-excellent! [Exeunt.

SCENE IV. A Room in the Duke's palace.

Enter VALENTINE, and VIOLA in man's attire.

Val. If the Duke continues these favours towards

you, Cesario, you are like to be much advanced; he hath known you but three days, and already you

Sir And. An I thought that, I'd forswear it. I'll are no stranger. ride home to-morrow, Sir Toby.

Sir To. Pourquoy, my dear knight?

I

Sir And. What is pourquoy? do or not do? would I had bestowed that time in the tongues, that I have in fencing, dancing, and bear-baiting: 0, had I but followed the arts!

Sir To. Then hadst thou had an excellent head of hair.

Sir And. Why, would that have mended my hair? Sir To. Past question; for thou seest it will not curl by nature.

Sir And. But it becomes me well enough, does't

not?

1 The old copy reads Castiliano vulgo. Warburton proposed reading Custiliano volto. In English, put on your Castilian countenance, i. e. grave serious looks.' I have no doubt that Warburton was right, for that read. ing is required by the context, and Castiliano vulgo has no meaning. But I have met with a passage in Hall's Satires, B. iv. S. 2, which I think places it beyond a doubt:

- he can kiss hand in gree,

And with good grace bow it below the knee, Or make a Spanish face with fawning cheer, With th' Iland conge like a cavalier,

Vio. You either fear his humour, or my negli gence, that you call in question the continuance of his love: Is he inconstant, sir, in his favours? Val. No, believe me.

Enter DUKE, CURIO, and Attendants. Vio. I thank you. Here comes the count. Duke. Who saw Cesario, ho?

Vio. On your attendance, my lord; here. Duke. Stand you awhile aloof.-Cesario, Thou knowest no less but all; I have unclasp'd To thee the book even of my secret soul:

Frith. She was at once an hermaphrodite, a bawd, a 2 i. e. Mall Cutpurse, whose real name was Mary prostitute, a bully, a thief, and a receiver of stolen goods. A book called The Madde Prankes of Merry Mall of the Bankside, with her Walks in Man's Apparel, and to what purpose, by John Day, was entered on the Stationers' books in 1610. Middleton and Decker wrote a Comedy, of which she is the heroine, and a life of her was published in 1662, with her portrait in male attire. As this extraordinary personage partook of both sexes, the curtain which Sir Toby mentions would not have been unnecessarily drawn before such a picture of her as might have been exhibited in an age of which neither too much delicacy nor too much decency was the cha racteristic.

3 Cinque-pace, the name of a dance, the measures whereof are regulated by the number 5, also called a Galliard.

And shake his head, and cringe his neck and side,'&c. The Spaniards were in high estimation for courtesy, though the natural gravity of the national countenance was thought to be a cloak for villany. The Castiliano volto was in direct opposition to the viso sciolto which the noble Roman told Sir Henry Wootton would go safe over the world. Castiliano vulgo, besides its want of 5 Alluding to the medical astrology of the almanacks connexion or meaning in this place, could hardly have Both the knights are wrong, but their ignorance is per been a proverbial phrase, when we remember that Cas-haps intentional. Taurus is made to govern the neck

the noblest part of Spain

4 Stocking.

and throat.

Therefore, good youth, address thy gait1 unto her;
Be not deny'd access, stand at her doors,
And tell them, there thy fixed foot shall grow,
Till thou have audience.

Vio.

Sure, my noble lord,

If she be so abandon'd to her sorrow
As it is spoke, she never will admit me.
Duke. Be clamorous, and leap all civil bounds,
Rather than make unprofited return.

Vio. Say, I do speak with her, my lord;
then?

Duke. O, then unfold the passion of my love, Surprise her with discourse of my dear faith: It shall become thee well to act my woes; She will a tend it better in thy youth, Than in a nuncio of more grave aspect. Vio. I think not so, my lord. Duke.

what

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6

Clo. Two faults, madonna, that drink and good counsel will amend : for give the dry fool drink, then is the fool not dry; bid the dishonest man mend himself; if he mend, he is no longer dishonest; if he cannot, let the botcher mend him: Any thing that's mended, is but patched: virtue, that transgresses, is but patched with sin: and sin, that amends, is but patched with virtue: If that this simple syllogism will serve, so; if it will not, what Dear lad, believe it; remedy? As there is no true cuckold but calamity, so beauty's a flower :-the lady bade take away the fool; therefore, I say again, take her away. Oli. Sir, I bade them take away you.

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

Is not more smooth and rubious; thy small pipe
Is as the maiden's organ, shrill and sound,
And all is semblative a woman's part.
I know thy constellation is right apt

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

When least in company:-Prosper well in this,
And thou shalt live as freely as thy lord,
To call his fortunes thine.

I'll do my best

Vio. To woo your lady: yet [Aside,] a barful strife! Whoe'er I woo, myself would be his wife. [Exeunt. SCENE V. A Room in Olivia's house. Enter MARIA and Clown."

Mar. Nay, either tell me where thou hast been, or I will not open my lips so wide as a bristle may enter, in way of thy excuse: my lady will hang thee for thy absence.

Clo. Let her hang me: he that is well hanged in his world needs to fear no colours. Mar. Make that good.

Clo. He shall see none to fear. Mar. A good lenten answer: I can tell thee where that saying 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 wisdom, that have it; and those that are fools, let them use their talents. Mar. Yet you will be hanged for being so long absent: or, to be turned away, is not that as good as a hanging to you?

Clo. Misprision in the highest degree !-Lady, Cucullus non facit monachum; that's as much as to say, I wear not motley in my brain. Good madonna, give me leave to prove you a fool. Oli. Can you do it?

Clo. Dexterously, good madam.
Oli. Make your proof.

Clo. I must catechize you for it, madonna Good my mouse of virtue, answer me.

Oli. Well, sir, for want of other idleness, I'll 'bide your proof.

Clo. Good madonna, why mourn'st thou? Oli. Good fool, for my brother's death. Clo. I think his soul is in hell, madonna. Oli. know his soul is in heaven, fool Clo. The more fool you, madonna, to mourn for your brother's soul being in heaven.-Take away the fool, gentlemen.

Oli. What think you of this fool, Malvolio? doth he not mend?

Mal. Yes; and shall do, till the pangs of death shake him: Infirmity, that decays the wise, doth ever make the better fool.

Clo. God send you, sir, a speedy infirmity, for the better cncreasing your folly! Sir Toby will be sworn that I am no fox; but he will not pass his word for twopence that you are no fool.

Oli. How say you to that, Malvolio?

Mal. I marvel your ladyship takes delight in such a barren rascal; I saw him put down the other day with an ordinary fool that has no more brain than a stone. Look you now, he's out of his guard alreaClo. Many a good hanging prevents a bad mar-dy; unless you laugh and minister occasion to him, riage; and, for turning away, let summer bear it out. he is gagged. I protest I take these wise men, that Mar. You are resolute then? crow so at these set of kind fools, no better than the fools' zanies."

Clo. Not so neither; but I am resolved on two points.

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 way; if Sir Toby would leave drinking, thou wert as witty a piece of Eve's flesh as any in Illyria. Mar. Peace, you rogue, no more o' that; here comes my lady: make your excuse wisely, you were best. [Exit.

Enter OLIVIA and MALVOLIO. Clo. Wit, and't be thy will, put me into good fooling! Those wits, that think they have thee, do very oft prove fools; and I, that am sure I lack

1 Go thy way.

2 A contest full of impediments.

3 The clown in this play is a domestic fool in the serice of Olivia. He is specifically termed an allowed fool, and Feste, the jester that the lady Olivia's father 1ook much delight in. Malvolio speaks of him as 'a set fool. The dress of the domestic fool was of two sorts, described by Mr. Douce in his Essay on the Clowns and Fools of Shakspeare, to which we must refer the reader for full information. The dress sometimes appropriated to the character is thus described in Tarleton's Newes out of Purgatory: I saw one attired in russet, with a button'd cap upon his head, a bag by his side, and a strong bat in his hand; so artificially at

Oli. O, you are sick of self-love, Malvolio, and taste with a distempered appetite. To be generous, guiltless, and of free disposition, is to take those things for bird-bolts, that you deem cannon-bullets: There is no slander in an allowed fool, though he do nothing but rail; nor no railing in a known discreet man, though he do nothing but reprove.

Clo. Now Mercury endure thee with leasing, for thou speakest well of fools!

Re-enter MARIA,

Mar. Madam, there is at the gate a young gentleman, much desires to speak with you.

tired for a clowne as I began to call Tarleton's wonted shape to remembrance.'

4 Short and spare. Sparing, niggardly, insufficient, like the fare of old times in Lent. Metaphorically, short, laconic. Says Steevens. I rather incline to Johnson's explanation, a good dry answer.' Steevens does not seem to have been aware that a dry fig was called a lenten fig. In fact, lenten fare was dry fare. 5 Points were laces which fastened the hose or breeches.

6 Italian, mistress, dame.

7 Fools' baubles,

8 Bird-bolts were short thick arrows with obtusa ends, used for shooting young rooks and other birda 9 Lying.

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