Duke. What dost thou know? Duke. And what's her history? Duke. But died thy sister of her love, my boy? Duke. [Exeunt. SCENE V.-Olivia's Garden. Enter SIR TOBY Sir To. Come thy ways, signior Fabian. Fab. I would exult, man ; you know, he brought me out of favour with my lady, about a bear-baiting here. Sir To. To anger him, we'll have the bear again; and we will fool him black and blue:-Shall we not, Sir Andrew? der i'the sun, practising behaviour to his own sha- Enter MALVOLIO. Mal. 'Tis but fortune; all is fortune. Maria once told me, she did affect me: and I have heard herself come thus near, that, should she fancy, it should be one of my complexion. Besides, she uses me with a more exalted respect, than any one else that follows her. What should I think on't? Sir To. Here's an overweening rogue! Fab. O, peace! Contemplation makes a rare turkey-cock of him; how he jets under his advanced plumes! Sir And. 'Slight I could so beat the rogue Mal. To be count Malvolio ;- Sir And. Pistol him, pistol him. Mal. There is example for't; the lady of the Fab. O, peace! now he's deeply in; look how imagination blows him. Mal. Having been three months married to her, sitting in my state, Sir To. O, for a stone bow, to hit him in the eye Mal. Calling my officers about me, in my branch ed velvet gown; having come from a day bed," where I left Olivia sleeping. Sir To. Fire and brimstone! Mal. And then to have the humour of state: and after a demure travel of regard,-telling them I know my place, as I would they should do theirs -to ask for my kinsman Toby: Sir To. Bolts and shackles! Fab. O, peace, peace, peace! now, now. Mal. Seven of my people, with an obedient start, make out for him: frown the while; and, per Sir And. An we do not, it is pity of our lives. chance, wind up my watch, or play with my some Enter MARIA. Sir To. Here comes the little villain :-How now, my nettle of India?4 Mar. Get ye all three into the box-tree: Mal rich jewel. Toby approaches; court'sies11 there to me: Sir To. Shall this fellow live? Fab. Though our silence be drawn from us with cars, 12 yet peace. Mal. I extend my hand to him thus, quenching volio's coming down this walk; he has been yon-my familiar smile with an austere regard of con So in the fifth Sonnet of Shakspeare:- And in the Rape of Lucrece : "Why should the worm intrude the maiden bud.' Again in Richard II.- But now will canker sorrow eat my buds, And chase the native beauty from my cheek.' 2 So Middleton in The Witch, Act iv. Sc. 3;— She does not love me now, but painfully Like one that's forc'd to smile upon a grief.' The commentators have overlaid this exquisite passage with notes, and created difficulties where none existed. Mr. Boswell says, the meaning is obviously this:While she was smiling at grief, or in her grief, her pla cid resignation made her look like patience on a monu ment.' 3 Denial. trol:13 5 Love. 6 To jet was to strul. "To jette lordly through the streets that men may see them.' Incedere magnifice per ora hominum.' Baret. So, in Bussy D'Ambois: . To jet in other's plumes so haughtily.' 7 Mr. R. P. Knight conjectures that this is a corrup tion of Stratici, a title anciently given to the Governors of Messina, and Illyria is not far from Messina. If so it will mean the Governor's lady. The word Strachy is printed with a capital and in Italics in the first folio 8 Puffs him up. 9 State chair. 11 It is probable that this word was used to express acts of civility and reverence, by either men or women indiscriminately. 12 Thus in the Two Gentlemen of Verona, the clown says:-" who that is, a team of horses shall not pluck from me." 4 The first folio reads 'mettle of India. By the nettle of India is meant a zoophite, called Urtica Marina, abounding in the Indian seas. Que tacta totius cor- 13 It may be worthy of remark, that the leading ideas poris pruritum quendam excitat, unde nomen Urtica of Malvolio, in his humour of state, bear a strong re est sortita.'-Frantii Hist. Animal. 1665, p. 620. In semblance to those of Alnaschar in The Arabian Holland's translation of Pliny, Book ix. As for those Nights.' Some of the expressions too are very similar. nettles, &c. their qualities is to raise an itching smart. Many Arabian fictions had found their way into obscure So, Green in his 'Card of Fancie,' 'The flower of In- Latin and French books, and from thence into English dia, pleasant to be seen, but whoso smelleth to it feeleth ones, long before any version of The Arabian Nights' present smart. He refers to it again in his Mamilia, had appeared. In The Dialogues of Creatures Moral 1593. Maria has certainly excited a congenial sensa-ized, bl. 1. printed early in the sixteenth century, a tion in Sir Toby. Mettle of India would signify my story similar to that of Alnaschar is related. See Dial, girl of gold my precious girl c. p. 122, reprint of 1816 Fab. Did not I say, he would work 1. out? the cur is excellent at faults. Ma. M, But then there is no consonaney in the sequel; that suffers under probation: A should follow, but O does. Fab. And O shall end, I hope. Sir To. Ay, or I'll cudgel him, and make him cry, 0. Mal. And then I comes behind. Fab. Ay, an you had any eye behind you, you might see more detraction at your heels, than for tunes before you. Mal. M, O, A, I;-This simulation is not as the former-and yet, to crush this a littie, it would Sir And. I knew, 'twas I; for many do call me bow to me, for every one of these letters are in my fool. Mal. What employment have we here? [Taking up the letter. Fab. Now is the woodcock near the gin. Sir To. O, peace! and the spirit of humours intimate reading aloud to him? Mal. By my life, this is my lady's hand: these be her very C's, her U's, and her T's; and thus makes she her great P's. It is, in contempt of question, her hand. Sir And. Her C's, her U's, and her T's: Why that? Mal. [reads] To the unknown beloved, this, and my good wishes: her very phrases!-By your leave, wax.-Soft!-and the impressure her Lucrece, with which she uses to seal: 'tis my lady: To whom should this be? Fab. This wins him, liver and all. Mal. I may command where I adore. Why, she may command me; I serve her, she is my lady. Why, this is evident to any formal capacity.3 There is no obstruction in this;-And the end,What should that alphabetical position portend? if I could make that resemble something in me, Softly!-M, O, A, I.— Sir To. O, ay! make up that he is now at a cold scent. Fab. Sowter will cry upon't, for all this, though it be as rank as a fox. Mal. M,-Malvolio;-M,-why, that begins my 2 The common stone-hawk, which inhabits old buildings and rocks. To check, says Latham in his Book of Falconry, is, when crows, rooks, pies, or other birds coming in view of the hawk, she forsaketh her natural flight to fly at them.' 3 i. e. to any one in his senses, or whose capacity is not out of form. 4 Souter is here used as the name of a hound. Sowterly is often employed as a term of abuse: a Souter was a cobbler or botcher; quasi Sutor. name. Soft; here follows prose.-If this fall into thy hand, revolve. In my stars I am above thee; bul be not afraid of greatness: Some are born great, som achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them. Thy fates open their hands; let thy blood and spirit embrace them. And, to inure thyself to what thou art like to be, cast thy humble slough, and appear fresh. Be opposite with a kinsman, surly with servants: let thy tongue tang arguments of state; put thyself into the trick of singularity: She thus advises thee, that sighs for thee. Remember who commended thy yellow stockings; and wished to see thee ever crossgartered:" I say, remember. Go to; thou art made, if thou desirest to be so; if not, let me see thee a steward still, the fellow of servants, and not worthy to touch fortune's fingers. Farewell. She that would alter services with thee,-The fortunate-unhappy. Day-light and champian discovers not more: this is open. I will be proud, I will read politic authors, I will baffle Sir Toby, I will wash off gross acquaintance, I will be point-de-vice, the very man. I do not now fool myself, to let imagination jade me; for every reason excites to this, that my lady loves me. She did commend my yellow stockings of late, she did praise my leg being cross-gartered; and in this she manifests herself to my love, and, with a kind of injunction, drives me to these habits of her liking. I thank my stars, I am happy. I will be strange, stout, in yellow stockings, and cross-gartered, even with the swiftness of putting on. Jove, and my stars be praised!-Here is yet a postscript. Thou canst not choose but know who I am. If thou entertainest my love, let it appear in thy smiling; thy smiles become thee well: therefore in my presence still smile, dear my sweet, I pr'ythee. Jove, I thank thee. —I will smile; I will do every thing that thou wilt have me. [Exit. Fab. I will not give my part of this sport for a pension of thousands to be paid from the Sophy.1 Sir To. I could marry this wench for this device. Sir And. So could I too. Sir To. And ask no other dowry with her, but such another jest. Enter MARIA. Fab. Here comes my noble gull-catcher. Sir To. Shall I play my freedom at tray-trip,'' and become thy bond-slave? Sir And. I'faith, or I either. were then in use. Olivia's detestation of these fashions probably arose from thinking them coxcomical. 8 Open country. 9 i. e. exactly the same in every particular. The etymology of this phrase is very uncertain. The most probable seems the French a point devise. A poinct says Nicot,adverbe. C'est en ordre et estat den et convenable.' We have also point blank, for direct from the same source. 10 Alluding to Sir Robert Shirley, who was just returned in the character of ambassador from the Sophy. He boasted of the great rewards he had received, and lived in London with the utmost splendour. 11 An old game played with dice or tables. Thus in Machiavel's Dog. Sig. B. 4to. 1617. But leaving cards, let's go to cice awhile, Sir To. Why, thou hast put him in such a dream, that, when the image of it leaves him, he must run mad. Mar. Nay, but say true; does it work upon him? Sir To. Like aqua-vite with a midwife. Mar. If you will then see the fruits of the sport, mark his first approach before my lady: he will come to her in yellow stockings, and 'tis a colour he abhors; and cross-gartered, a fashion she detests; and he will smile upon her, which will now be so unsuitable to her disposition, being addicted to a melancholy as she is, that it cannot but turn him into a notable contempt: if you will see it, follow me. Clo. Now Jove, in his next commodity of hair, send thee a beard! Vio. By my troth, I'll tell thee; I am almost sick for one; though I would not have it grow on my chin. Is thy lady within? Clo. Would not a pair of these have bred, sir? Vio. Yes, being kept together, and put to use. Clo. I would play lord Pandarus of Phrygia sir, to bring a Cressida to this Troilus. Vio. I understand you, sir; 'tis well begg'd. Clo. The matter, I hope, is not great, sir, begging but a beggar; Cressida was a beggar.4 My lady is within, sir. I will construe to them whence you come; who you are, and what you would, are Sir To. To the gates of Tartar, thou most ex-out of my welkin; I might say, element; but the cellent devil of wit! word is over-worn. Sir And. I'll make one too. ACT III. [Exeunt. SCENE I. Olivia's Garden. Enter VIOLA, and Clown with a tabor. Vio. Save thee, friend, and thy music: Dost thou live by thy tabor?1 Clo. No, sir, I live by the church. Vio. Art thou a churchman? Clo. No such matter, sir; I do live by the church: for I do live at my house, and my house doth stand by the church. Vio. So thou may'st say, the king lies by a beg gar, if a beggar dwell near him: or, the church stands by thy tabor, if thy tabor stand by the church. Clo. You have said, sir.-To see this age!-A sentence is but a cheveril glove to a good wit; How quickly the wrong side may be turned outward Vio. Nay, that's certain; they, that dally nicely with words, may quickly make them wanton. Clo. I would, therefore, my sister had had no name, sir. Vio. Why, man? Clo. Why, sir, her name's a word; and to dally with that word, might make my sister wanton: But, Indeed, words are very rascals, since bonds disgraced them. Vio. Thy reason, man? Clo. Troth, sir, I can yield you none without words; and words are grown so false, I am loath to prove reason with them. Vio. I warrant, thou art a merry fellow, and carest for nothing. Clo. Not so, sir, I do care for something: but in my conscience, sir, I do not care for you; if that be to care for nothing, sir, I would it would make you invisible. ; Vio. Art not thou the lady Olivia's fool? Clo. No, indeed, sir; the lady Olivia has no folly: she will keep no fool, sir, till she be married and fools are as like husbands, as pilchards are to errings, the husband's the bigger; I am, indeed, not her fool, but her corrupter of words. Vio. I saw thee late at the count Orsino's. Clo. Foolery, sir, does walk about the orb, like the sun; it shines every where. I would be sorry, sir, but the fool should be as oft with your master, as with my mistress: I think I saw your wisdom there. Vio. Nay, an thou pass upon me, I'll no more with thee. Hold, there's expenses for thee. 1 Tarleton, in a print before his Jests, 4to. 1611, is represented with a Tabor. But the instrument is found in the hands of fools, long before the time of Shakspeare. 2 Kid. Ray has a proverb 'He hath a conscience like a cheverel's skin.' See note on K. Henry VIII. Act ii. Sc. 4. 3 See the play of Troilus and Cressida. 4 In Henryson's Testament of Cresseid she is thus spoken of: [Esit. Sir To. Save you, gentleman. Sir And. Dieu vous garde, monsieur. Sir And. I hope, sir, you are; and I am yours. Sir To. Will you encounter the house? my niece is desirous you should enter, if your trade be to her. Vio. I am bound to your niece, sir: I mean, she is the list of my voyage. I Sir To. Taste your legs, sir, put them to motion. Vio. My legs do better understand me, sir, than understand what you mean by bidding me taste my legs. Sir To. I mean, to go-sir, to enter. Vio. I will answer you with gait and entrance : But we are prevented. Enter OLIVIA and MARIA. Most excellent accomplished lady, the beavens rain odours on you! Sir And. That youth's a rare courtier! Rain odours! well. Vio. My matter hath no voice, lady, but to your own most pregnant and vouchsafed ear. Sir And. Odours, pregnant, and vouchsafed:I'll get 'em all three ready. Oli. Let the garden door be shut, and leave me to my hearing. [Exeunt SIR TOBY, Sir Andrew, and MARIA. Give me your hand, sir. Vio. My duty, madam, and most humble service. Oli. What is your name? Vio. Cesario is your servant's name, fair prin cess! Oli. My servant, sir! "Twas never merry world, Since lowly feigning was call'd compliment; You are a servant to the count Orsing, youth. Vio. And he is yours, and his must needs be yours; Your servant's servant is your servant, madam. Oli. For him, I think not on him: for his thoughts, 'Would they were blanks, rather than fill'd with me! Vio. Madam, I come to whet your gentle thoughts On his behalf:O, by your leave, I pray you; I bade you never speak again of him: But, would you undertake another suit, Oli. 5 A wild hawk, or, hawk not well trained. 6 Bound, limit. 7 In the Frogs of Aristophanes a similar expression occurs, v. 462. 9 i. e. our purpose is anticipated. So in the 11th Pealm, Mine eyes prevent the night-watches.' 9 i. e. ready, apprehensive; vouchsafed, for vouch safing. Oli. Give me leave, 'beseech you: I did send, A ring in chase of you; so did I abuse Ivours to the count's serving man, than ever she be stowed upon me; I saw't i'the orchard. Sir To. Did she see thee the while, old boy? tell me that. Sir And. As plain as I see you now. Sir And. 'Slight! will you make an ass o'me? Which you knew none of yours: What might you of judgment and reason. think? Have you not set mine honour at the stake, Enough is shown; a cyprus, not a bosom, Oli. That's a degree to love. Vio. No, not a grise; for 'tis a vulgar3 proof, Oli. Why, then, methinks, 'tis time to smile again; [Clock strikes. Oli. Stay: I pr'ythee, tell me, what thou think'st of me. am, Oli. O, what a deal of scorn looks beautiful A murd'rous guilt shows not itself more soon By maidhood, honour, truth, and every thing, Oli. Yet come again: for thou, perhaps, mays't move That heart, which now abhors, to like his love. Sir And. No, faith, I'll not stay a jot longer. Sir To. And they have been grand jury-men, since before Noah was a sailor. Fab. She did show favour to the youth in you sight, only to exasperate you, to awake your dor mouse valour, to put fire in your heart, and brimstone in your liver: You should then have accosted her; and with some excellent jests, fire-new from the mint, you should have banged the youth into dumbness. This was looked for at your hand, and this was baulked: the double gilt of this opportu nity you let time wash off, and you are now sailed into the north of my lady's opinion; where you will hang like an icicle on a Dutchman's beard, unless you do redeem it by some laudable attempt, either of valour, or policy. Sir And. And't be any way, it must be with valour; for policy I hate: I had as lief be a Brownist as a politician. Sir To. Why then, build me thy fortunes upon the basis of valour. Challenge me the count's youth to fight with him; hurt him in eleven places; my niece shall take note of it: and assure thyself, there is no love-broker in the world can more prevail in man's commendation with woman, than report of valour. Fab. There is no way but this, Sir Andrew. Sir And. Will either of you bear me a challenge to him? Sir To. Go, write it in a martial hand; be curst and brief; it is no matter how witty, so it be eloquent, and full of invention: taunt him with the licence of ink: if thou thou'st him some thrice, it shall not be amiss; and as many lies as will lie in thy sheet of paper, although the sheet were big enough for the bed of Wared in England, set 'em down; go, about it, Let there be gall enough in thy ink; though thou write with a goose-pen, no matter: About it. Sir And. Where shall I find you? Sir To. We'll call thee at the cubiculo:11 Go. [Exit SIR ANDrew. Fab. This is a dear manakin to you, Sir Toby. Sir To. I have been dear to him, lad; some two thousand strong, or so. Fab. We shall have a rare letter from him: but you'll not deliver it. Sir To. Never trust me then! and by all means stir on the youth to an answer. I think, oxen and wainropes12 cannot hale them together. For Andrew, if he were opened, and you find so much blood in his liver as will clog the foot of a flea, I'll eat the rest of the anatomy. Fab. And his opposite, 13 the youth, bears in his visage no great presage of cruelty. Enter MARIA. Sir To. Look, where the youngest wren of nine14 comes. Mar. If you desire the spleen, and will laugh 8 Be curst and brief. Curst is cross, froward, petulant. 9 Shakspeare is thought to have had Lord Coke in his mind, whose virulent abuse of Sir Walter Raleigh or Sir And Marry, I saw your niece do more fa-his trial was conveyed in a series of thou's. His resent 1 i. e, after the enchantment your presence worked in my affections. 2 Ready apprehension. 3 i. e. a thin veil of crape or cyprus. 4 Step 5 Common. 6 In spite of: from the French malgre. 7 The Brownists were so called from Mr. Robert Browne, a noted separatist, in Queen Elizabeth's reign. They seem to have been the constant objects of popular satire, ment against the flagrant conduct of the attorney general on this occasion was probably heightened by the contemptuous manner in which he spoke of players in his charge at Norwich, and the severity he was always willing to exert against them. 10 This curious piece of furniture was a few years since still in being at one of the inns in that town. It was reported to be twelve feet square, and capable of holding twenty-four persons. 11 Chamber. 12 Wagon ropes. 13 i. e. adversary 14 The wren generally lays nine or ten eggs, and the Ant. To the Elephant.- I do remember. [Exeunt. yourselves into stitches follow me: yon' gull Mal-| volio is turned heathen, a very renegado; for there is no Christian, that means to be saved by believing rightly, can ever believe such impossible passages SCENE IV. Olivia's Garden. Enter OLIVIA of grossness. He's in yellow stockings. Sir To. And cross-gartered? Mar. Most villanously; like a pedant that keeps Seb. I would not, by my will, have troubled you; you. Ant. I could not stay behind you; my desire, Seb. My kind Antonio, I can no other answer make, but, thanks, Ant. To-morrow, sir; best, first, go see your Seb. I am not weary, and 'tis long to night; With the memorials, and the things of fame, Ant. Would you'd pardon me; I shall pay dear. Seb. Do not then walk too open. Ant. It doth not fit me. Hold, sir, here's my purse: In the south suburbs, at the Elephant, Is best to lodge; I will bespeak our diet, I and MARIA. Oli. I have sent after him: He says he'll come : row'd. speak too loud. Where is Malvolio?—he is sad, and civil,♦ Mar. He's coming, madam; but in very strange manner. Oli. Why, what's the matter? does he rave? Mar. No, madam, he does nothing but smile your ladyship were best to have some guard about you, if he come; for, sure, the man is tainted in his wits. Oli. Go call him hither.-I'm as mad as he, How now, Malvolio! Mar. Sweet lady, ho, ho. [Smiles fantasticauy. I sent for thee upon a sad occasion. Mal. Sad, lady? I could be sad: This does make some obstruction in the blood, this cross-gartering: But what of that, if it please the eye of one, it is with me as the very true sonnet is: Please one, and please all. Oli. Why, how dost thou, man? what is the matter with thee? Mal. Not black in my mind, though yellow ir. my legs: It did come to his hands, and commands shall be executed. think, we do know the sweet Roman hand. Oli. Wilt thou go to bed, Malvolio? Mal. To bed? ay, sweet-heart; and I'll come to thee. Oli. God comfort thee! Why dost thou smile so, and kiss thy hand so oft? Whiles you beguile the time, and feed your know-80 With viewing of the town; there shall you have me. Ant. Haply, your eye shall light upon some toy Seb. I'll be your purse-bearer, and leave you for An hour. Oli. Thy yellow stockings? Mal. And wished to see thee cross-gartered. Mel. Go to: thou art made, if thou desirest to be Oli. Am I made? Mal. If not, let me see thee a servart still. Ser. Madam, the young gentleman of the count Orsino's is returned; I could hardly entreat him back: he attends your ladyship's pleasure. |