Mal. Madam, I will. Oli. I do I know not what, and fear to find [Exit. 290 [Exit. ACT I SCENE I. The sea-coast. Enter ANTONIO and SEBASTIAN. Ant. Will you stay no longer? nor will you not that I go with you? Seb. By your patience, no. My stars shine darkly over me: the malignancy of my fate might perhaps distemper yours; therefore I shall crave of you your leave that I may bear my evils alone: it were a bad recompense for your love, to lay any of them on you. 8 Ant. Let me yet know of you whither you are bound. Seb. No, sooth, sir: my determinate voyage is mere extravagancy. But I perceive in you so excellent a touch of modesty, that you will not extort from me what I am willing to keep in; therefore it charges me in manners the rather to express myself. You must know of me then, Antonio, my name is Sebastian, which I called Roderigo. My father was that Sebastian of Messaline, whom I know you have heard of. He left behind him myself and a sister, both born in an hour: if the heavens had been pleased, would we had so ended! but you, sir, altered that; for some hour before you took me from the breach of the sea was my sister drowned. Ant. Alas the day! 20 Seb. A lady, sir, though it was said she much resembled me, was yet of many accounted beautiful: but, though I could not with such estimable wonder overfar believe that, yet thus far I will boldly publish her; she bore a mind that envy could not but call fair. She is drowned already, sir, with salt water, though I seem to drown her remembrance again with more. Ant. Pardon me, sir, your bad entertainment. Ant. If you will not murder me for my love, let me be your servant. 30 Seb. If you will not undo what you have done, that is, kill him whom you have recovered, desire it not. Fare ye well at once: my bosom is full of kindness, and I am yet so near the manners of my mother, that upon the least occasion more mine eyes will tell tales of me. I am bound to the Count Orsino's court: farewell. Ant. The gentleness of all the gods go with thee! SCENE II. A street. Enter VIOLA, MALVOLIO following. [Exit. 40 [Exit. Mal. Were you not even now with the Countess Olivia? Vio. Even now, sir; on a moderate pace I have since arrived but hither. Mal. She returns this ring to you, sir: you might have saved me my pains, to have taken it away yourself. She adds, moreover, that you should put your lord into a desperate assurance she will none of him: and one thing more, that you be never so hardy to come again in his affairs, unless it be to report your lord's taking of this. it so. Receive 10 Vio. She took the ring of me: I'll none of it. She loves me, sure: the cunning of her passion None of my lord's ring! why, he sent her none. Poor lady, she were better love a dream. In women's waxen hearts to set their forms! 20 For such as we are made of, such we be. 30 And she, mistaken, seems to dote on me. It is too hard a knot for me to untie ! SCENE III. A room in OLIVIA'S house. Enter SIR TOBY and SIR ANDREW. [Exit. Sir To. Approach, Sir Andrew: not to be a-bed after midnight is to be up betimes; and 'diluculo surgere', thou know'st, Sir And. Nay, by my troth, I know not: but I know, to be up late is to be up late. Sir To. A false conclusion: I hate it as an unfilled can. To be up after midnight and to go to bed then, is early: so that to go to bed after midnight is to go to bed betimes. Does not our life consist of the four elements? Sir And. Faith, so they say; but I think it rather consists of eating and drinking. I I Sir To. Thou'rt a scholar; let us therefore eat and drink. Marian, I say! a stoup 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, ass. Now let's have a catch. Sir And. By my troth, the fool has an excellent breast. had rather than forty shillings I had such a leg, and so sweet a breath to sing, as the fool has. In sooth, thou wast in very gracious fooling last night, when thou spokest of Pigrogromitus, of the Vapians passing the equinoctial of Queubus: 't was very good, i' faith. I sent thee sixpence for thy leman: hadst it? 24 Clo. I did impeticos thy gratillity; for Malvolio's nose is no whipstock: 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 song. Sir To. Come on; there is sixpence for you: let's have a song. 31 Sir And. There's a testril of me too: if one knight give a- Sir And. Ay, ay: I care not for good life. O mistress mine, where are you roaming? Sir And. Excellent good, i' faith. Clo. [Sings] What is love? 't is not hereafter; In delay there lies no plenty; Then come kiss me, sweet and twenty, 40 Sir And. A mellifluous voice, as I am true knight. 50 Sir And. Very sweet and contagious, i' faith. Sir To. A contagious breath. Sir To. To hear by the nose, it is dulcet in contagion. But shall we make the welkin dance indeed? shall we rouse the night-owl in a catch that will draw three souls out of one weaver? shall we do that? Sir And. An you love me, let's do't: I am dog at a catch. Clo. By'r lady, sir, and some dogs will catch well. Sir And. Most certain. Let our catch be, 'Thou knave'. Clo. Hold thy peace, thou knave', knight? I shall be constrained in 't to call thee knave, knight. 61 Sir And. 'Tis not the first time I have constrained one to call me knave. Begin, fool: it begins 'Hold thy peace'. Clo. I shall never begin if I hold my peace. Sir And. Good, i' faith. Come, begin. Enter MARIA. [Catch sung. Mar. What a caterwauling do you keep here! If my lady have not called up her steward Malvolio and bid him turn you out of doors, never trust me. Sir To. My lady's a Cataian, we are politicians, Malvolio's a Peg-a-Ramsey, and 'Three merry men be we’. Am not I consanguineous? am I not of her blood? Tillyvally. Lady! [Sings] 'There dwelt a man in Babylon, lady, lady!' 72 Clo. Beshrew me, the knight's in admirable fooling. Sir And. Ay, he does well enough if he be disposed, and so do I too: he does it with a better grace, but I do it more natural. Sir To. [Sings] 'O, the twelfth day of December',— Enter MALVOLIO. Mal. My masters, are you mad? or what are you? Have you no wit, manners, nor honesty, but to gabble like tinkers at this time of night? Do ye make an alehouse of my lady's house, that ye squeak out your coziers' catches without any mitigation or remorse of voice? Is there no respect of place, persons, nor time in you? 84 Sir To. We did keep time, sir, in our catches. Sneck up! Mal. Sir Toby, I must be round with you. My lady bade me tell you, that, though she harbours you as her kinsman, she's nothing allied to your disorders. If you can separate yourself and your misdemeanours, you are welcome to the house; if not, an it would please you to take leave of her, she is very willing to bid you farewell. 91 Sir To. Farewell, dear heart, since I must needs be gone.' Mar. Nay, good Sir Toby. 6 Clo. His eyes do show his days are almost done.' Mal. Is 't even so? Sir To. But I will never die.' Clo. Sir Toby, there you lie. Mal. This is much credit to you. Sir To. 'Shall I bid him go?' Clo. 'What an if you do?' Sir To. 'Shall I bid him go, and spare not?' Clo. O no, no, no, no, you dare not.' Sir To. Out o' tune, sir: ye lie. Art any more than a steward? Dost thou think, because thou art virtuous, there shall be no more cakes and ale? Clo. Yes, by Saint Anne, and ginger shall be hot i' the mouth too. Sir To. Thou'rt i' the right. Go, sir, rub your chain with crumbs. A stoup of wine, Maria! IIO Mal. Mistress Mary, if you prized my lady's favour at any |