Sir And. I have't in my nofe too.

Sir To. He fhall think by the letters, that thou wilt drop, that they come from my Neice, and that the is in love with him.

Mar. My purpose is, indeed, a horse of that colour. Sir And. And your horse now would make him an ass. Mar. Afs, I doubt not.

Sir And. O, 'twill be admirable.

Mar. Sport royal, I warrant you: I know, my phyfick will work with him. I will plant you two, and let the fool make a third, where he fhall find the letter: obferve his construction of it: for this night to bed, and dream on the event. Farewel.

Sir To. Good night, Penthifilea.

Sir And Before me, fhe's a good wench.

[Exit.

Sir To. She's a beagle, true-bred, and one that adores me; what o' that?

Sir And.. I was ador'd once too.

Sir To. Let's to bed, Knight: thou hadft need fend for more mony.

Sir And. If I cannot recover your Neice, I am a foul way out..

Sir To. Send for mony, Knight; if thou haft her not i' th' end, call me cut.

Sir And. If I do not, never trust me, take it how you will.

Sir To. Come, come, I'll go burn fome fack, 'tis too late to go to bed now: come, Knight; come, Knight. [Exeunt. SCENE changes to the Palace. Enter Duke, Viola, Curio, and others.

Duke. GIVE me fome mufick; now, good morrow.

friends :

Now, good Cefario, but that piece of fong,
That old and antique fong, we heard laft night;
Methought, it did relieve my paffion much;
More than light airs, and recollected terms
Of these most brisk and giddy-paced times.
Come, but one verse.

Cur. He is not here, fo please your Lordship, that

fhould fing it.

Duke. Who was it?

Cur. Fefte, the jefter, my Lord, a fool that the Lady Olivia's father took much delight in. He is about the house.

Duke. Seek him out, and play the tune the while.
[Exit Curio. [Mufick.

Come hither, boy; if ever thou shalt love,
In the fweet pangs of it, remember me;
For fuch as I am, all true lovers are;
Unftaid and skittish in all motions elfe,
Save in the conftant image of the creature
That is belov'd. How doft thou like this tune?
Vio. It gives a very echo to the feat

Where love is thron'd.

Duke. Thou doft fpeak mafterly.

My life upon't, young tho' thou art, thine eye
Hath ftaid upon some favour that it loves:

Hath it not, boy?

Vio. A little, by your favour.

Duke. What kind of woman is't?

Vio. Of: your complexion..

Duke. She is not worth thee then. What years, i'faith ?⠀ Vio. About your years, my Lord.

Duke. Too old, by heav'n; let still the woman take An elder than herself, fo wears fhe to him;

So fways fhe level in her husband's heart.

For, boy, however we do praife ourselves,
Our fancies are more giddy and unfirm,
More longing, wavering, fooner loft and won,
Than women's are.

Vio. I think it well, my lord.

Duke. Then let thy love be younger than thyself,
Or thy affection cannot hold the bent:
For women are as rofes, whofe fair flower,
Being once difplay'd, doth fall that very hour.
Vio. And fo they are: alas, that they are fo,
To die, even when they to perfection grow!

Enter Curio and Clown.

Duke. O fellow, come; the fong we had laft night,— Mark it, Cefario, it is old and plain;

The fpinfters and the knitters in the fun,

And the free maids that wave their thread with bones,
Do use to chant it: it is filly footh,

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

Clo. Are you ready, Sir?

Duke. Ay; pr'ythee, fing.

SONG.

Come away, come away, death,
And in fad cyprefs let me be laid;
Fly away, fly away, breath,

I am flain by a fair cruel maid.

My browd of white, ftuck all with yevz,
O, prepare it.

My part of death no one so true

Did fhare it.

Not a flower, not a flower fweet,

On black cofin let there be ftroswn:

my

Not a friend, not a friend greet

My poor corps, where my bones fhall be thrown. A thousand thousand fighs to fave,

Lay me, O! where

True lover never find my grave,
To weep there.

Duke. There's for thy pains.

[Mufick.

Clo. No pains, Sir; I take pleasure in finging, Sir. Duke. I'll pay thy pleasure then.

Clo. Truly, Sir, and pleasure will be paid one time or

other.

Duke. Give me now leave to leave thee.

Clo. Now the melancholy God protect thee, and the taylor make thy doublet of changeable taffata, for thy mind is a very opal! I would have men of fuch conftancy

put

rut to fea, that their business might be every thing, and their intent every where; for that's it, that always makes a good voyage of nothing. Farewel. [Exit. Duke. Let all the reft give place. Once more, Cefario,

Get thee to yond fame fovereign cruelty :

Tell her, my love, more noble than the world,
Prizes not quantity of dirty lands;

The parts, that fortune hath bestow'd upon her,
Tell her, I hold as giddily as fortune:
But 'tis that miracle, and Queen of Gems,
That nature pranks her in, attracts my foul.
Vio. But if the cannot love you, Sir-
Duke. It cannot be fo answer'd.

Vio. Sooth, but you must.

Say, that fome Lady, as, perhaps, there is,
Hath for your love as great a pang of heart
As you have for Olivia: you cannot love her;
You tell her fo; must she not then be anfwer'd ?
Duke. There is no woman's fides

Can bide the beating of fo ftrong a paffion,
A's love doth give my heart: no woman's heart
So big to hold fo much; they lack retention.
Alas, their love may be call'd appetite:
No motion of the liver, but the palate,
That fuffers furfeit, cloyment, and revolt's
But mine is all as hungry as the fea,
And can digeft as much; make no compare
Between that love a woman can bear me,
And that I owe Olivia.

Vio. Ay, but I know

Duke. What doft thou know?

Vio. Too well what love women to men may owe;

In faith, they are as true of heart, as we.

My father had a daughter lov'd a man,

As it might be, pernaps, were I a woman,

I should your Lordship.

Duke. And what's her hiftory?

Vio. A blank, my Lord: fhe never told her love, But let concealment, like a worm i' th' bud,

Feed

Feed on her damask cheek: the pin'd in thought;
And, with a green and yellow melancholy,
She fat like Patience on a monument,..

Smiling at grief. Was not this love, indeed?
We men may fay more, fwear more, but, indeed,
Our fhews are more than will; for ftill we prove
Much in our vows, but little in our love.

Duke. But dy'd thy fifter of her love, my boy?
Vio. I'm all the daughters of my father's house,,
And all the brothers too-and yet I know not
Sir, fhall I to this Lady?

Duke. Ay, that's the theam.

To her in hafte; give her this jewel: fay,
My love can give no place, bide no denay.

[Exeunt's

SCENE changes to Olivia's Garden.

Enter Sir Toby, Sir Andrew, and Fabian.

OME thy ways, Signior Fabian.

Sir To. COM

Fab. Nay, I'll come; if I lofe a scruple of this fport, let me be boil'd to death with melancholy.

Sir To. Would'st thou not be glad to have the niggardly rafcally fheep biter come by fome notable fhame? 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, fhall we not, Sir Andrew?

Sir And. An we do not, it's pity of our lives.

Enter Maria..

Sir To. Here comes the little villain: how now, my nettle of India?

Mar. Get ye all three into the box tree; Malvolio's coming down this walk, he has been yonder i' th' fun practifing behaviour to his own fhadow this half hour. Obferve him, for the love of mockery; for, I know,