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

Sir To. An thou let her part fo, Sir Andrew, would thou might'st never draw fword again.

Sir And. An you part fo, Miftrefs, I would I might never draw fword again. Fair Lady, do you think you have fools in hand?

Mar. Sir, I have not you by th' 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 th' buttery-bar, and let it drink.

Sir And. Wherefore, fweet heart? what's your metaphor ?

Mar. It's dry, Sir.

Sir And. Why, I think fo: I am not fuch 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 finger's ends marry, now I let your hand go, I am barren.

:

[Exit Maria. Sir To. O Knight, thou lack'st a cup of canary: when did I fee thee fo put down?

Sir And. Never in your life, I think, unless you fee canary put me down: methinks fometimes 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.

Sir And. An I thought that, I'd forfwear it. I'll ride home to-morrow, Sir Toby.

Sir To. Pourquoy, my dear Knight?

Sir And. What is Pourquoy? do, or not do? I would I had bestowed that time in the tongues that I have in fencing, dancing, and bear-baiting. O had I but follow'd the arts!

Sir To. Then hadst thou had an excellent head of hair. Sir And. Why, would that have mended my hair?" Sir To. Paft queftion; for thou feeft it will not curl by nature.

Sir And.

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

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

Sir To. She'll none o' th' Duke: fhe'll not match above her degree, neither in estate, years, nor wit; I have heard her fwear it. Tut, there's life in't man.

Sir And. I'll lay a month longer. I am a fellow o' th' ftrangest 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, 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, fimply as ftrong 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 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 should be a jig! I would not fo much as make water, but in a cinque-pace. What doft thou mean? is it 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 stocking. 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!.

-excellent.

[Exeunt.

SCENE

SCENE V. Changes to the palace.

Enter Valentine, and Viola in man's attire.

Val. If the Duke continue these favours towards you, Cefario, you are like to be much advance'd; he hath known you but three days, and already you are no ftranger.

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

Val. No, believe me,

Enter Duke, Curio, 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'st no lefs, but all: I have unclafp'd To thee the book even of my fecret foul. Therefore, good youth, addrefs th gate unto her; Be not deny'd accefs; stand at her doors, And tell them, there thy fix'd foot shall grow, Till thou have audience.

Vio. Sure, my Noble Lord,

If the be fo abandon'd to her forrow
As it is fpoke, 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; 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 aspect.. Vio. I think not fo, my Lord.

Duke. Dear lad, believe it :

For thev fhall yet belye thy happy years,
That fay thou art a man: Diana's lip

Is not more imooth and rubious; thy fmall pipe

Is as the maiden's organ, fhrill, and found,

And all is femblative a woman's part.

M 2

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

To woo your Lady; yet a barful ftrife!
Whoe'er I woo, myself would be his wife.

[Exeunt.

SCENE VI. Changes to Olivia's houfe.

Enter Maria and Clown.

Mar. Nay, either tell me where thou hast 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.

Glo. 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 ab fent, or be turn'd away; is not that as good as hanging to you?

Clo. Marry, a good hanging prevents a bad marriage; and for turning away, let fummer beat 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 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

Mar. Peace, you rogue, no more o' that. Here comes my Lady; make your excufe wifely, you were best. [Exit.

SCENE VII. Enter Olivia, and Malvolio. Clo. Wit, and't be thy will, put me into a good fooling! Thofe wits that think they have thee, do very oft prove fools; and I that am fure I lack thee, may pass 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 counfel 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 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 fo; if it will not, what remedy? as there is no true cuckold but calamity, fo beauty'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.

Clo. Mifprifion in the highest degree.-Lady, Gucullus non facit monachum; that's as much as to say, I wear not motley in my brain. Good Madona, give me leave to prove you a fool.

Oli. Can you do it?

Clo. Dexterously, good Madona.

Oli. Make your proof.

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

Oli. Well, Sir, for want of other idleness, 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.

Clo.