"

Sir And. But it becomes me well enough, does 't

not?

Sir To. Excellent! it hangs like flax on a diftaff; and I hope to fee a house-wife take thee between her legs, and fpin it off.

Sir And. Faith, I'll home to-morrow, Sir Toby; your. niece will not be feen, or, if fhe be, it's four to one fhe'll none of me: the Duke himfelf here, hard by, wooes her.

Sir To. She'll none o'th' Duke, she'll not match above her degree, neither in eftate, years, nor wit; I have heard her fwear it. Tut, there's life in't, man.

Sir And. I'll stay a month longer. I am a fellow o'th' ftrangeft mind i'th' world: I delight in masks andi revels fometimes altogether.

Sir To. Art thou good at these kick-fhaws, Knight? Sir And. As any man in Illyria whatfoever he be,. under the degree of my betters; and yet I will not. compare with an old man.

Sir To. What is thy excellence in a galliard, Knight? Sir And. Faith, I can cut a caper.

Sir To. And I can cut the mutton to't.

Sir And. And, I think, I have the back-trick, fimply as ftrong as any man in Illyria..

Sir To. Wherefore are these things hid? wherefore have these gifts a curtain before 'em? are they like to take duft, like Miftrefs Mall's picture? why doft thou not go to church in a galliard, and come home in a coranto my very walk fhould be a jig! I would not fo much as make water, but in a fink-a-pace: what doft thou mean? is it a world to hide virtues in? I did.

I cannot pafs over the remarkable conundrum betwixt Sir Andrew wishing he had follow'd the Arts, and Sir Toby's application of this to the ufing art in improving his hair: because I would obferve, what variety and what a contraft of character the Poet has preferv'd in this pair of ridiculous Knights. Sir Toby has moderate natural parts, and a finattering of education; which makes him always to be running his wit, and gives him a predominance over the other. Sir Andrew: is a blockhead by nature, and unimproved by any acquirements from art; and so is made the very anvil to imposition and ridicule.

think, by the excellent conftitution of thy leg, it was form'd under the ftar of a galliard.

Sir And Ay, 'tis ftrong, and it does indifferent welt in a flame-colour'd ftocking. Shall we fet about fome revels ?

Sir To. What fhall we do elfe? were we not born under Taurus?

Sir And. Taurus? that's fides and heart.

Sir To. No, Sir, it is legs and thighs. Let me fee thee caper; ha! higher: ha, ha!

Val.

excellent.

SCENE changes to the Palace.

[Exeunt.

Enter Valentine, and Viola in man's attire.

F the Duke continue these favours towards you, Cefario, you are like to be much advanced; he hath known you but three days, and already you are no ftranger.

Vio. You either fear his humour, or my negligence, that you call' in queftion the continuance of his love. Is he inconftant, Sir, in his favours?

Val. No, believe me.

Enter Duke, Curio, and Attendants.

Kio. I thank you: here comes the Duke.
Duke. Who faw Cefario, hoa?

Vio. On your attendance, my lord, here.

Duke. Stand you a-while aloof.

Cefario,

Thou knoweft no lefs, but all: I have unclafp'd

To thee the book even of my fecret foul.

Therefore, good youth, addrefs thy gate unto her;

Be not deny'd accefs, ftand at her doors,

And tell them, there thy fixed foot shall grow "Till thou have audience.

Vio. Sure, my noble Lord,

If the be fo abandon'd to her forrow

As it is fpoke, he never will admit me.

Duke.

Duke. Be clamorous, and leap all civil bounds, Rather than make unprofited return.

Vio. Say, I do fpeak with her, my Lord; what then? Duke. O, then, unfold the paffion of my love, Surprize her with difcourfe of my dear faith;.

It thall become thee well to act my woes;
She will attend it better in thy youth,
Than in a nuncio of more grave aspect.
Vio. I think not fo, my Lord.
Duke. Dear lad, believe it:

For they fhall yet belie thy happy years,.
That fay, thou art a man: Diana's lip

ad

Is not more fmooth and rubious; thy fmall pipe
Is as the maiden's organ, fhrill, and found,
And all is femblative a woman's part,

I know, thy conftellation is right apt

For this affair: fome four or five attend him;:5
All, if you will; for I my felf am best

When leaft in company. Profper well in this,
And thou shalt live as freely as thy Lord,
To call his fortunes thine.

Pia. I'll do my best

To woo your Lady; yet, a barful Atrife!
Who-e'er I woo, myfelf would be his wife. [Exeunt
SCENE changes to Olivia's House.

Mar. N

Enter Maria and Clown.

AY, either tell me where thou hast been, or I will not open my lips fo wide as a

bristle may enter, in way of thy excufe; my Lady will hang thee for thy abfence.

Clo. Let her hang me; he, that is well hang'd in this world, needs fear no colours.

Mar. Make that good.

Clo. He fhall fee none to fear.

Mar. A good lenten anfwer: I can tell thee where that faying was born, of, I fear no colours,

Clo. Where, good mistress Mary?

Mar

Mar. In the wars, and that may you be bold to say in your foolery.

Clo. Well, God give them wisdom that have it; and thofe that are fools, let them ufe their talents.

Mar. Yet you will be hang'd for being so long abfent, or be turned away; is not that as good as a hang. ing to you?

Clo. Marry, a good hanging prevents a bad marriage; and for turning away, let fummer bear it out.

Mar. You are refolute then?

Clo. Not fo neither, but I am refolv'd on two points.

Mar. That if one break, the other will hold; or, if both break, your gaskins fall.

Clo. Apt, in good faith; very apt well, go thy way, if Sir Toby would leave drinking, thou wert as witty a piece of Eve's flesh as any in Illyria.

Mar. Peace, you rogue, no more o'that: here comes my Lady; make your excufe wifely, you were beft. [Exit,

Enter Olivia, and Malvolio.

Clo. Wit, and't be thy will, put me into good fooling! thofe wits, that think they have thee, do very oft prove fools; and I, that am fure I lack thee, may pafs for a wife man. For what fays Quinapalus, better a witty fool than a foolish wit. God bless thee, Lady!

Oli. Take the fool away.

Clo. Do you not hear, fellows, take away the Lady. Oli. Go to, y'are a dry fool; I'll no more of you; befides, you grow dishonest

Clo. Two faults, Madona, that drink and good counfel will amend; for give the dry fool drink, then is the fool not dry: bid the dishonest man mend himself; if he mend, he is no longer difhoneft; if he cannot, let the botcher mend him. Any thing, that's mended, is but patch'd; virtue, that tranfgreffes, is but patch'd with fin; and fin, that amends, is but patch'd with virtue. If that this fimple fyllogifm will ferve, fo; if

it will not, what remedy? as there is no true cuckold but calamity, fo beauty's a flower: the Lady bade take away the fool, therefore, I fay again, take her away. Oli. Sir, I bade them take away you,

Ch. Mifprifion in the highest degree.-Lady, Cucullus non facit monachum; that's as much as to fay, I wear not motley in my brain: good Madona, give me leave to prove you a fool.

Oli. Can you do it?

Clo. Dexterously, good Madona.
Oli. Make your proof.

Clo. I muft catechize you for it, Madona; good my moufe of virtue, anfwer me.

Oli. Well, Sir, for want of other idleness, I'll bide your proof.

Clo. Good Madona, why mourn'ft thou?
Oli. Good fool, for my brother's death.
Clo. I think, his foul is in, hell, Madona,
Oli. I know, his foul is in heav'n, fool.

Clo. The more fool you, Madona, to mourn for your brother's foul being in heav'n: take away the fool, gentlemen.

O, What think you of this fool, Malvalio, doth he not mend?

Mal. Yes, and fhall do, 'till the pangs of death fhake him. Infirmity, that decays the wife, doth ever make better the fool.

Clo. God fend you, Sir, a fpeedy infirmity, for the better increafing your folly! Sir Toby will be fworn, that I am no fox; but he will not pass his word for two pence, that you are no fool.

Oli. How fay you to that, Malvolio?

Mal. I marvel, your Ladyfhip takes delight in fuch a barren rafcal; I faw him put down the other day with an ordinary fool, that has no more brain than a ftone. Look you now, he's out of his guard already; unless you laugh and minifter occafion to him, he is gagg'd. I proteft, I take these wife men, that crow fo at thefe fet kind of fools, no better than the fools Zanies.