ACT III.

SCENE, Olivia's Garden.

Enter Viola, and Clown..

VIOLA.

AVE thee, Friend, and thy mufick: doft thou

Glo. No, Sir, I live by the Church.

Vio. Art thou a Churchman?

Clo. No fuch matter, Sir; I do live by the Church: for I do live at my Houfe, and my House doth ftand by the Church.

Vio. So thou may't fay, the King lyes by a Beggar,. if a Beggar divell near him: or the Church ftands by thy Tabor, if thy Tabor ftand by the Church.

Clo. You have faid, Sir: to fee this age!- -A fentence is but a chev'ril glove to a good wit; how quickly the wrong fide 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 Sifter 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 Sifter wanton; but, indeed, words are very rafcals, fince bonds difgrac'd them..

Vio. Thy reafon, Man?

Clo.. Troth, Sir, I can yield you none without words ; and words are grown fo false, I am loth to prove rea

fon with them.

Vio. I warrant, thou art a merry Fellow, and carest for nothing.

Cla.

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Clo. Not fo, Sir, I do care for fomething; but, i my confcience, Sir, I do not care for you: if that b to care for nothing, Sir, I would, it would make you invifible.

Vio. Art not thou the Lady Olivia's Fool?

Clo. No, indeed, Sir; the Lady Olivia has no folly ; fhe will keep no Fool, Sir, 'till fhe be married; and Fools are as like Husbands, as Pilchers are to Herrings, the Husband's the bigger: I am, indeed, not her Fool, but her Corrupter of Words.

Vio. I faw thee late at the Duke Orfino's.

Clo. Foolery, Sir, does walk about the Orb like the Sun; it fhines every where. I would be forry, Sir, but the fool fhould be as oft with your Mafter, as with my Mistress: I think, I faw your wisdom there.

Vio. Nay, an thou pass upon me, I'll no more with thee. Hold, there's expences for thee.

Clo. Now fove, in his next commodity of hair, fend thee a beard!

Vio. By my troth, I'll tell thee, I am almoft fick 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 Creffida to this Troylus.

Vio. I understand you, Sir, 'tis well begg'd..

Clo. The matter, I hope, is not great, Sir; begging but a beggar: Creffida was a beggar. My lady is within, Sir, I will confter to them whence you come; who you are, and what you would, is out of my welkin; I might say, element; but the word is over-worn.

Vio. This fellow is wife enough to play the fool,
And, to do that well, craves a kind of wit:
He must obferve their mood on whom he jefts,
The quality of the perfons, and the time;
And, like the haggard, check at every feather
That comes before his eye. This is a practice,
As full of labour as a wife-man's art;!

[Exit.

For

For folly, that he wifely fhews, is fit;:

But wife men's, folly fall'n, quite taints their wit.

Enter Sir Toby, and Sir Andrew.

Sir And. Save you, gentleman. (6)

Vio. And you, Sir.

Sir To. Dieu vous guarde, Monfieur.
Vio. Et vous aufi; voftre ferviteur

Sir To. I hope, Sir, you are; and I am yours. Will you encounter the Houfe? my Neice is defirous fhould enter, if your trade be to her.

you

Vio. I am bound to your Neice, Sir, I mean, she is the lift of my voyage.

Sir To. Tafte your legs, Sir, put them to motion.

Vio. My legs do better underftand me, Sir, than I 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 gate and entrance; but we are prevented.

Enter Olivia and Maria.

Moft excellent accomplish'd lady, the heav'ns 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 moft pregnant and vouchsafed ear.

(6) Sir Tob. Save you,

Vio. And you, Sir.

Gentlemans

Sir And. Dieu vous guarde, Monfieur.
Vio. Et vous auffi; votre Serviteur.

Sir And. I bope, Sir, you are; and 1 am yours.]

I have ventur'd to make the two Knights change Speeches in this Dialogue with Viola; and, I think, not without good Reafons. It were a prepofterous Forgetfulness in the Poet, and out of all Probability, to make Sir Andrew not only speak French, but understand what is faid to him in it, who in the first A&t did not know the English of Pourquoy.

Sir And. Odours, pregnant, and vouchsafed :- -I'll get 'em all three ready.

Oli. Let the garden door be fhut, 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 fervice.
Oli. What is your name?

Vio. Cefario is your fervant's name, fair Princess.
Oli. My fervant, Sir? 'Twas never merry world,
Since lowly feigning was call'd compliment:
Y'are fervant to the Duke Orfino, youth.

Vio. And he is yours, and he must needs be yours:
Your fervant's fervant is your fervant, Madam.

Oli. For him, I think not on him for his thoughts,
'Wou'd they were blanks, rather than fill'd with me!
Vio. Madam, I come to whet your gentle thoughts.
On his behalf.

Oli. O, by your leave, I pray you;
I bade you never speak again of him.
But would you undertake another fuit,
I'd rather hear you to follicit That,
Than mufick from the spheres.
Vio. Dear lady,

Oli. Give me leave, I befeech you: I did fend,
After the last enchantment, you did hear,
A ring in chafe of you. So did I abufe
Myfelf, my fervant, and, I fear me, you;
Under your hard conftruction must I fit,
To force that on you in a fhameful cunning,
Which you knew none of yours. What might you

think?

Have you not fet mine honour at the stake,

And baited it with all th' unmuzzled thoughts

That tyrannous heart can think? to one of your ré ceiving

Enough is fhewn; a cyprus, not a bosom,

Hides my poor heart. So let us hear you speak.

Vio. I pity you.

Ol. That's a degree to love.

1

Vio. No, not a grice for 'tis a vulgar proof, That very oft we pity enemies.

Oli. Why then, methinks, 'tis time to smile again; O world, how apt the poor are to be proud!

If one fhould be a prey, how much the better
To fall before the lion, than the wolf!

[Clock frikes.
The clock upbraids me with the waste of time.
Be not afraid, good youth, I will not have you;
And yet when wit and youth are come to harvest,
Your wife is like to reap a proper man :
There lies your way, due weft.

Vio. Then weftward hoe :

Grace und good difpofition attend your ladyfhip!
You'll nothing, Madam, to my Lord by me!

Oli. Stay; pr'ythee tell me, what thou think'ft of

me?

Vio. That you do think, you are not what you are.
Oli. If I think so, I think the fame of you.

Vio. Then think you right, I am not what I am.
Oli. I would you were, as I would have you be !
Vio. Would it be better, Madam, than I am ?
I wish it might, for now I am your fool.

Oli. O, what a deal of fcorn looks beautiful

In the contempt and anger of his lip!

A murd'rous guilt fhews not itself more foon,

Than love that would feem hid; love's night is noon.
Cefario, by the roses of the spring,

By maid hood, honour, truth, and every thing,
I love thee fo, that maugre all thy pride,
Nor wit, nor reason, can my paffion hide.
Do not extort thy reasons from this claufe,
For that I woo, thou therefore haft no caufe:
But rather reason thus with reafon fetter;

Love fought is good; but given, unfought, is better.
Vio. By innocence I fwear, and by my youth,

I have one heart, one bosom, and one truth,
And that no woman has ; nor never none
Shall mistress be of it, fave I alone.
And so adieu, good Madam; never more
Will I my mafter's tears to you deplore.