II.

SCENE

Enter Viola and Malvolio, at feveral doors.

Mal. Were not you even now with the countess Olivia? Vio. Even now, fir; on a moderate pace I have fince arrived but hither.

Mal. She returns this ring to you, fir; you might have faved me my pains, to have taken it away yourself. She adds moreover, that you should put your lord into a defperate affurance fhe will none of him: And one thing more; that you be never fo hardy to come again in his affairs, unless it be to report your lord's taking of this. Receive it fo..

Vio. She took the ring of me, I'll none of it.

Mal. Come, fir, you peevishly threw it to her; and her will is, it fhould be fo return'd: if it be worth ftooping for, there it lies in your eye; if not, be it his that finds it. [Exit. Vio. I left no ring with her: What means this lady? Fortune forbid, my outfide have not charm'd her!

She made good view of me; indeed so much,

n

That, fure, methought " her eyes had loft her tongue,
For fhe did speak in starts distractedly.

She loves me, fure; the cunning of her paffion

Invites me in this churlish meffenger.

None of my lord's ring! why, he sent her none.

I am the man ;-If it be fo, (as 'tis)

Poor lady, fhe were better love a dream.
Difguife, I fee thou art a wickedness,

her eyes had left her tongue,]-had deprived her of the proper ufe of it-they went fuch different ways, while that talked of the Duke, theje were bent on me.

Wherein

Wherein the pregnant enemy does much.
How easy is it, for the proper falfe

In women's waxen hearts to fet their forms!
Alas, our frailty is the caufe, not we;

For, fuch as we are made of, such we be.

How will this fadge? My mafter loves her dearly;
And I, poor monster, fond as much on him;
And she, mistaken, feems to dote on me:
What will become of this? As I am man,
My state is defperate for my master's love:
As I am woman, now alas the day!
What thriftless fighs fhall poor Olivia breathe?
O time, thou must untangle this, not I;
It is too hard a knot for me to untye.

SCENE III.

Olivia's Houfe.

Enter Sir Toby and Sir Andrew.

[Exit.

Sir To. Approach, fir Andrew: 'not to be a-bed after midnight, is to be up betimes; and diluculo furgere, thou know'ft,

Sir And. Nay, by my troth, I know not: but I know, late, is to be up late. up

to be

Sir To. A falfe conclufion; I hate it as an unfill'd can: To be up after midnight, and to go to bed then, is early;

pregnant enemy-fubtle fiend.

P proper false in women's waxen hearts to fet their forms !]-fair deceivers, handfome counterfeits-to make an impreffion on them. fadge?]-fuit, be reconciled among the parties.

"We will have, if this fadge not, an antick.

LOVE'S LABOUR LOST, Act V, Sc. 1. Arm. not to be a-bed after midnight, is to be up betimes ;]

"I am glad, I was up fo late; for that's the reason I was up fo early." CYMBELINE, A&t II, Sc. 3. Clot.

fo

fo that, to go to bed after midnight, is to go to bed betimes. Does not our life confift of the four elements?

Sir And. 'Faith, fo they fay; but, I think, it rather confists of eating and drinking.

Sir To. Thou art a fcholar; let us therefore eat and drink. -Marian, I fay!--a ftoop of wine!

Enter Clown.

Sir And. Here comes the fool, i'faith.

Clo. How now, my hearts? Did you never see the picture of we three?

Sir To. Welcome, afs. Now let's have a catch.

Sir And. By my troth, the fool has an excellent breast. I had rather than forty fhillings I had fuch a leg; and fo sweet a breath to fing, as the fool has. In footh, thou wast in very gracious fooling last night, when thou spok'ft of Pigrogromitus, of the Vapians paffing the equinoctial of Queubus; 'twas very good, i'faith. I fent thee fix-pence for "thy leman; Had'st it?

Clo. I did impeticoat thy gratuity; for Malvolio's nofe is no whip-stock: My lady has a white hand, and the Myrmidons are no bottle-ale houses.

Sir And. Excellent! Why, this is the best fooling, when all is done. Now, a fong.

Sir To. Come on; there is fix-pence for you: let's have a fong.

Sir And. There's a teftril of me too: if one knight give a

w did impeticoat thy gratuity; &c.]—impocket, or gave it to my petticoat companion-impeticos thy gratillity. for though Malvolio

out my amour, yet has he not power to punish me for it; my miftrefs is handfome, and the tap-room an unfit place to treat her at.

Clo.

Clo. Would you have a love-fong, or a fong of good

life?

Sir To. A love-fong, a love-fong.

Sir And. Ay, ay; I care not for good life.

Clown fings.

O mistress mine, where are you roaming?
O, ftay and bear; your true-love's coming,
That can fing both high and low:
Trip no further, pretty fweeting;
Journeys end in lovers' meeting,

Every wife man's fon doth know.

Sir And. Excellent good, i'faith!
Sir To. Good, good.

Clo. What is love? 'tis not hereafter;
Prefent mirth bath prefent laughter;
What's to come, is ftill unfure:
In delay there lies no plenty;

Then come kifs me, fweet and twenty,
Youth's a stuff will not endure.

Sir And. A mellifluous voice, as I am a true knight.

Sir To. A contagious breath.

Sir And. Very fweet and contagious, i'faith.

Sir To. To hear by the nofe, it is dulcet in contagion. But fhall we make the welkin dance indeed?

Shall we rouze the night-owl in a catch, that will draw three fouls out of one weaver? fhall we do that?

a fong of good life?]—a jovial one, mistaken by Sir Andrew for one of a moral turn.

Y

come kiss me, fweet and twenty, youth's a ftuff]—give me a kiss, fweet, give me twenty, for," youth's a ftuff" &c.

2 make the welkin dance]—drink till the sky feem to turn round.

a draw three fouls out of one weaver ?]-vegetative, sensative, and reasonable.

"Is it not strange that sheep's guts should hale fouls out of men's bodies ?” MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING, A&t II, Sc. 3. Bene. Sir

Kk 2

1

Sir And. An you love me, let's do't: I am a dog at a catch.

Clo. By'r lady, fir, and fome dogs will catch well. Sir And. Moft certain: let our catch be, Thou knave. Clo. Hold thy peace, thou knave, knight? I fhall be constrain'd in't to call thee knave, knight.

Sir And. 'Tis not the firft time I have conftrain'd one to call me knave. Begin, fool; it begins, Hold thy peace. Clo. I fhall never begin, if I hold my peace.

Sir. And. Good, i'faith! come, begin. [They fing a catch. Enter Maria.

Mar. What a catterwauling do you keep here? If my lady have not call'd up her fteward, Malvolio, and bid him turn you out of doors, never trust me.

b

Sir To. My lady's a Cataian, we are politicians; Malvolio's a Peg-a-Ramfey, and Three merry men be we.

с

Am not I confanguineous? am I not of her blood? Tilly valley, lady! There dwelt a man in Babylon, lady, lady!

e

[Singing. Clo. Befhrew me, the knight's in admirable fooling. Sir And. Ay, he does well enough, if he be difpos'd, and fo do I too; he does it with a better grace, but I do it more natural.

Sir To. O, the twelfth day of December,

Mar. For the love o'God, peace.

Enter Malvolio.

[Singing.

Mal. My mafters, are you mad? or what are you? Have

ba Cataian,]—a gipfy, a vixen.

• Peg-a-Ramfey, and three merry men be we.]-The name of one old fong, and a fragment of another-Peggy Ramfey.

Tilly valley,]-HENRY IV, Part II, A& II, Sc. 4. Hoft. fiddle faddle.

e lady, lady!]-the burthen of a ballad, which Maria's mention of her lady brings to Sir Toby's remembrance.

you