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Vio. And so they are: alas, that they are so ; To die, even when they to perfection grow!

Re-enter CURIO and Clown.

Duke. O fellow, come, the song we had last night:
Mark it, Cesario ; it is old, and plain :
The spinsters and the knitters in the sun,
And the free? maids that weave their thread with

bones,
Do use to chant it; it is silly sooth,
And dallies with the innocence of love,
Like the old age."

Clo. Are you ready, sir ?
Duke. Ay; pr’ythee, sing.

[Music.

SONG.

On my

Clo. Come away, come away, death,

And in sad cypress let me be laid ;

Fly away, fly away, breath ;
I am slain by a fair cruel maid.
My shroud of white, stuck all with yeu,

O, prepare it ;
My part of death no one so true

Did share it.
Not a flower, not a flower sweet,

black coffin let there be strown ;
Not a friend, not a friend greet
My poor corpse, where my bones shall be thrown :
A thousand thousand sighs to save,

Lay me, 0, where
Sad true-love never find my grave,

To weep there.
Duke. There's for thy pains.
Clo. No pains, sir; I take pleasure in singing, sir.
Duke. I'll pay thy pleasure, then.

1 Merry, gay:

2

Silly sooth is simple truth. 3 The old age is the ages past, times of simplicity.

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

Duke. Give me now leave to leave thee.

Clo. Now, the melancholy god protect thee; and the tailor make thy doublet of changeable taffeta, for thy mind is a very opal.—I would have men of such constancy put to sea, that their business might be every thing, and their intent every where ; for that's it, that always makes a good voyage of nothing.–Farewell.

[Exit Clown. Duke. Let all the rest give place.

[Exeunt Curio and Attendants.

Once more, Cesario, Get thee to yon' same sovereign cruelty : Tell her, my love, more noble than the world, Prizes not quantity of dirty lands; The parts that fortune hath bestowed upon her, Tell her, I hold as giddily as fortune; But 'tis that miracle, and

of

queen

gems, That nature pranks her in, attracts my soul.

Vio. But, if she cannot love you, sir?
Duke. I cannot be so answered.
Vio.

'Sooth, but you must
Say, that some 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 so: Must she not then be answered ?

Duke. There is no woman's sides
Can bide the beating of so strong a passion
As love doth give my heart: no woman's heart
So big, to hold so much; they lack retention.
Alas, their love may be called appetite,-
No motion of the liver, but the palate,-
That suffer surfeit, cloyment, and revolt;
But mine is all as hungry as the sea,
And can digest as much: make no compare

1 This is probably an error of the press, and should read, “ I give thee now leave to leave me."

2 The opal is a gem which varies its hues, as it is viewed in different lights.

Between that love a woman can bear me,
And that I owe Olivia.
Vio

Ay, but I know,
Duke. What dost 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 loved a man,
As it might be, perhaps, were I a woman,
I should your lordship.
Duke.

And what's her history?
Vio. A blank, my lord : She never told her love,
But let concealment, like a worm i’ the bud,
Feed on her damask cheek: she pined in thought;
And, with a green and yellow melancholy,
She sat like patience on a monument,
Smiling at grief. Was not this love, indeed ?
We men may say more, swear more: but, indeed,
Our shows are more than will; for still we prove
Much in our vows, but little in our love.

Duke. But died thy sister of her love, my boy?

Vio. I am all the daughters of my father's house, And all the brothers too ;-—and yet I know not :Sir, shall I to this lady? Duke.

Ay, that's the theme. To her in haste: give her this jewel; say, My love can give no place, bide no denay. [Ereunt.

SCENE V. Olivia's Garden.

Enter Sir Toby Belch, SIR ANDREW AGUE-CHEEK,

and FABIAN.

Sir To. Come thy ways, signior Fabian.

Fab. Nay, I'll come; if I lose a scruple of this sport, let me be boiled to death with melancholy.

Sir To. Would'st thou not be glad to have the niggardly rascally sheep-biter come by some notable shame?

1 Denial.

Fab. I would exult, man; you know, he brought me out of favor 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 ? Sir And. An we do not, it is pity of our lives.

Enter MARIA. Sir To. Here comes the little villain How now, my nettle of India ? 1

Mar. Get ye all three into the box-tree: Malvolio's coming down this walk; he has been yonder i? the sun, practising behavior to his own shadow, this half hour: observe him, for the love of mockery; for I know, this letter will make a contemplative idiot of him. Close, in the name of jesting! [The men hide themselves.] Lie thou there ; [throws down a letter ;] for here comes the trout that must be caught with tickling.

[Exit MARIA. 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 !

i The first folio reads “ mettle of India.” By the nettle of India is meant a zoophite, called Urtica Marina, abounding in the Indian seas. "Qiæ tacta totius corporis pruritum quendam ercitat, unde nomen Urticæ est sortita."Franzii Hist. Animal. 1665, p. 620. In Holland's translation of Pliny, Book ix.—“ As for those nettles, &c., their qualities is to raise an itching smart." So Green, in his “Card of Fancie,” -6 The flower of India, pleasant to be seen, but whoso smelleth to it feeleth present smart." He refers to it again in his Mamilia, 1593. Maria has certainly excited a congenial sensation in Sir Toby. Mettle of India would signify my girl of goll, my precious girl.

To jet was to strut.
VOL. I.

36

Sir And. 'Slight, I could so beat the rogue :
Sir To. Peace, I say,
Mal. To be Count Malvolio;
Sir To. Ah, rogue !
Sir And. Pistol him, pistol him.
Sir To. Peace, peace!

Mal. There is example fort; the lady of the Strachy married the yeoman of the wardrobe.

Sir And. Fie on him, Jezebel !

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 branched velvet gown; having come from a day bed, where I lett Olivia sleeping

Sir To. Fire and brimstone!
Fab. O, peace, peace!

Mal. And then to have the humor 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: I frown the while ; and, perchance, wind up my watch, or play with my some rich jewel. Toby approaches; court’sies there to me:

Sir To. Shall this fellow live?

Fab. Though our silence be drawn from us with cars, yet peace.

Mai. l'extend my hand to him thus, quenching my familiar smile with an austere regard of control :

1 Mr. R. P. Knight conjectures that this is a corruption 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.

2 Puffs him up.

3 Thus in the Two Gentlemen of Verona, the clown says_“Who that is, a team of horses shall not pluck from me.”

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