F Muficke be the food of Loue, play on,
Giue me exceffe of it: that surfetting,
The appetite may ficken, and fo dye.
That ftraine agen, it had a dying fall:
O, it came ore my eare, like the fweet found
That breathes vpon a banke of Violets;
Stealing, and giuing Odour. Enough, no more,
'Tis not fo fweet now, as it was before.

O fpirit of Loue, how quicke and fresh art thou,
That notwithstanding thy capacitie,
Receiueth as the Sea. Nought enters there,
Of what validity, and pitch fo ere,
But falles into abatement, and low price

Euen in a minute; fo full of shapes is fancie,
That it alone, is high fantasticall.

Cu. Will you go hunt my Lord ?
Du. What Cario?

Cu. The Hart.

Du. Why fo I do, the Nobleft that I haue:
O when mine eyes did fee Oliuia first,
Me thought the purg'd the ayre of peftilence;
That inftant was I turn'd into a Hart,
And my defires like fell and cruell hounds,

Ere fince pursue me. How now what newes from her?

Enter Valentine.

Val. So please my Lord, I might not be admitted, But from her handmaid do returne this answer: The Element it felfe, till feuen yeares heate, Shall not behold her face at ample view: But like a Cloyftreffe she will vailed walke, And water once a day her Chamber round With eye-offending brine: all this to season

A brothers dead loue, which she would keepe fresh And lafting, in her fad remembrance.

Du. O the that hath a heart of that fine frame

To pay this debt of loue but to a brother,
How will the loue, when the rich golden fhaft
Hath kill'd the flocke of all affections elfe
That liue in her. When Liuer, Braine, and Heart,
Thefe foueraigne thrones, are all fupply'd and fill'd
Her sweete perfections with one felfe king:
Away before me, to fweet beds of Flowres,
Loue-thoughts lye rich, when canopy'd with bowres.

Scena Secunda.

Enter Viola, a Captaine, and Saylors.

Vio. What Country (Friends) is this?
Cap. This is Illyria Ladie.

Vio. And what should I do in Illyria?
My brother he is in Elizium,

Perchance he is not drown'd: What thinke you faylors?
Cap. It is perchance that you your felfe were faued.
Vio.O my poore brother, and fo perchance may he be.
Cap. True Madam, and to comfort you with chance,
Affure your felfe, after our ship did fplit,

When you, and thofe poore number faued with you,
Hung on our driuing boate: I faw your brother
Moft prouident in perill, binde himselfe,
(Courage and hope both teaching him the practise)
To a fttong Mafte, that liu'd vpon the fea:
Where like Orion on the Dolphines backe,

I faw him hold acquaintance with the waues,
So long as I could fee.

Vio. For faying fo, there's Gold:
Mine owne escape vnfoldeth to my hope,
Whereto thy fpeech ferues for authoritie
The like of him. Know'st thou this Countrey?
Cap. I Madam well, for I was bred and borne
Not three houres trauaile from this very place:
Vio. Who gouernes heere?

Cap. A noble Duke in nature, as in name.
Vio. What is his name?

Exeunt

Till I had made mine owne occafion mellow

What my estate is.

Cap. That were hard to compaffe,

Because she will admit no kinde of fuite,
No, not the Dukes.

Vio. There is a faire behauiour in thee Captaine, And though that nature, with a beauteous wall Doth oft clo fe in pollution: yet of thee

I will beleeue thou haft a minde that fuites
With this thy faire and outward charracter.
I prethee (and Ile pay thee bounteously)
Conceale me what I am, and be my ayde,
For fuch difguife as haply fhall become

The forme of my intent. Ile ferue this Duke,
Thou shalt prefent me as an Eunuch to him,
It may be worth thy paines: for I can fing,
And fpeake to him in many forts of Muficke,
That will allow me very worth his feruice.
What else may hap, to time I will commit,
Onely shape thou thy filence to my wit.

Cap. Be you his Eunuch, and your Mute Ile bee, When my tongue blabs, then-let mine eyes not fee. Vio. I thanke thee: Lead me on.

Scana Tertia.

Enter Sir Toby, and Maria.

Exeunt

Sir To. What a plague meanes my Neece to take the death of her brother thus? I am fure care's an enemie to life.

Mar. By my troth fir Toby, you must come in earlyer a nights your Cofin, my Lady, takes great exceptions to your ill houres.

To. Why let her except, before excepted.

Ma. I, but you must confine your selfe within the modeft limits of order.

To. Confine? Ile confine my felfe no finer then I am : thefe cloathes are good enough to drinke in, and so bee these boots too and they be not, let them hang themfelues in their owne straps.

Ma. That quaffing and drinking will vndoe you : I heard my Lady talke of it yesterday and of a foolish knight that you brought in one night here, to be hir woer To. Who, Sir Andrew Ague-cheeke?

Ma. I he.

To. He's as tall a man as any's in Illyria.
Ma. What's that to th'purpose?

To. Why he ha's three thousand ducates a yeare.
Ma. I, but hee'l haue but a yeare in all these ducates :
He's a very foole, and a prodigall.

To.Fie, that you'l fay fo: he playes o'th Viol-de-gamboys, and fpeaks three or four languages word for word without booke, & hath all the good gifts of nature.

Ma. He hath indeed, almost naturall: for befides that he's a foole, he's a great quarreller and but that hee hath the gift of a Coward, to allay the guft he hath in quarrelling, 'tis thought among the prudent, he would quickely haue the gift of a graue.

Tob. By this hand they are fcoundrels and fubftraEtors that fay fo of him. Who are they?

Ma. They that adde moreour, hee's drunke nightly in your company.

To. With drinking healths to my Neece: Ile drinke

to her as long as there is a paffage in my throat, & drinke in Illyria he's a Coward and a Coyftrill that will not drinke to my Neece. till his braines turne o'th toe, like a ¦ parish top. What wench? Caftiliano vulgo:for here coms Sir Andrew Agueface. Enter Sir Andrew.

And. Sir Toby Belch. How now fir Toby Belch?

To. Sweet fir Andrew.

And. Bleffe you faire Shrew.

Mar. And you too fir.

Tob. Accoft Sir Andrew, accoft.

And. What's that?

To. My Neeces Chamber-maid.

Ma.Good Miftris accoft, I defire better acquaintance Ma. My name is Mary fir.

And. Good miftris Mary, accoft.

To, You mistake knight: Accoft, is front her, boord her, woe her, affayle her.

And. By my troth I would not vndertake her in this company. Is that the meaning of Accoft?

Ma. Far you well Gentlemen.

To. And thou let part fo Sir Andrew, would thou mightft neuer draw fword agen.

And. And you part fo miftris, I would I might neuer draw fword agen: Faire Lady, doe you thinke you have fooles in hand?

Ma. Sir, I haue not you by'th hand.

An. Marry but you shall haue, and heeres my hand. Ma. Now fir, thought is free: I pray you bring your hand to'th Buttry barre, and let it drinke.

An. Wherefore (fweet-heart?) What's your Metaphor?

Ma. It's dry fir.

And. Why I thinke fo : I am not fuch an affe, but I can keepe my hand dry. But what's your ieft? Ma. A dry ieft Sir.

And. Are you full of them?

Ma.I Sir, I haue them at my fingers ends: marry now I let go your hand, I am barren. Exit Maria To. O knight, thou lack'st a cup of Canarie:when did I fee thee fo put downe?

An. Neuer in your life I thinke, vnleffe you fee Canarie put me downe: mee thinkes fometimes I haue no more wit then a Christian, or an ordinary man ha's: but I am a great eater of beefe, and I beleeue that does harme to my wit.

To. No question.

An. And I thought that, I'de forfweare it. Ile ride home to morrow fir Toby.

To. Pur-quoy my deere knight?

An. What is purquoy? Do, or not do? I would I had bestowed that time in the tongues, that I haue in fencing dancing, and beare-bayting: O had I but followed the Arts.

To. Then hadft thou had an excellent head of haire.
An. Why, would that haue mended my haire?
To. Paft question, for thou seest it will not coole my
An. But it becoms we wel enough, doft not?

(nature

To. Excellent, it hangs like flax on a diftaffe: & I hope to fee a huswife take thee between her legs, & fpin it off. An. Faith Ile home to morrow fir Toby, your niece wil not be feene, or if the be it's four to one, the'l none of me : the Connt himselfe here hard by, wooes her,

To. Shee'l none o'th Count, fhe'l not match aboue hir degree, neither in eftate, yeares, nor wit: I haue heard her fwear t. Tut there's life in't man.

And.

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

To. And I can cut the Mutton too't,

And. And I thinke I haue the backe-tricke, fimply as ftrong as any man in Illyria.

To. Wherefore are these things hid? Wherefore haue thefe gifts a Curtaine before 'em? Are they like to take duft, like miftris Mals picture? Why doft thou not goe to Church in a Galliard, and come home in a Carranto? My verie walke should be a ligge: I would not so much as make water but in a Sinke-a-pace: What dooest thou meane? Is it a world to hide vertues in? I did thinke by the excellent conftitution of thy legge, it was form'd vnder the starre of a Galliard.

And, I, 'tis ftrong, and it does indifferent well in a dam'd colour'd ftocke. Shall we fit about fome Reuels? To. What fhall we do elfe: were we not borne vnder Taurus?

And. Taurus? That fides and heart.

To. No fir, it is leggs and thighes: let me fee thee caper. Ha, higher : ha, ha, excellent.

Scena Quarta.

Enter Valentine, and Viola in mans attire.

Exeunt

Val. If the Duke continue thefe fauours towards you Cefario, you are like to be much adu anc'd, he hath known you but three dayes, and already you are no stranger.

Vio. You either feare his humour, or my negligence, that you call in queftion the continuance of his loue. Is he inconftant fir, in his fauours. Val. No beleeue me. Enter Duke, Curio, and Attendants.

Vio. I thanke you : heere comes the Count.
Duke. Who faw Cefario hoa?

Vio. On your attendance my Lord heere.
Du. Stand you a-while aloofe. Cefario,
Thou knowft no leffe, but all: I haue vnclafp'd
To thee rhe booke euen of my secret foule.
Therefore good youth, addreffe thy gate vnto her,
Be not deni'de accesse, stand at her doores,
And tell them, there thy fixed foot shall grow
Till thou haue audience.

Vio. Sure my Noble Lord,

If the be fo abandon'd to her forrow

As it is spoke, fhe neuer will admit me.

Du, Be clamorous, and leape all ciuill bounds,

Rather then make vnprofited returne,

Vio. Say I do fpeake with her (my Lord) what then?
Du. O then, vnfold the pafsion of my loue,

Surprize her with difcourfe of my deere faith;
It shall become thee well to act my woes :

She will attend it better in thy youth,

Then in a Nuntio's of more graue afpect.
Vio. I thinke not fo, my Lord.
Du. Deere Lad, beleeue it;

Ma. Make that good.

Clo. He fhall fee none to feare.

Ma. A good lenton answer: I can tell thee where y faying was borne, of I feare no colours.

Clo. Where good miftris Mary?

Ma. In the warrs, & that may you be bolde to say in your foolerie.

Clo. Well, God giue them wifedome that haue it: & thofe that are fooles, let them vse their talents.

Ma. Yet you will be hang'd for being fo long abfent, or to be turn'd away is not that as good as a hanging to you?

Clo. Many a good hanging, preuents a bad marriage : and for turning away, let fummer beare it out.

Ma. You are refolute then?

Clo. Not fo neyther, but I am refolu'd on two points Ma. That if one breake, the other will hold: or if both breake, your gaskins fall.

Clo. Apt in good faith, very apt: well go thy way, if fir Toby would leaue drinking, thou wert as witty a piece of Eues flesh, as any in Illyria.

Ma. Peace you rogue, no more o' that: here comes my Lady make your excufe wifely, you were best.

Enter Lady Oliuia, with Maluolio.

Clo. Wit, and't be thy will, put me into good fooling : thofe wits that thinke they haue thee, doe very oft proue fooles and I that am fure I lacke thee, may paffe for a wife man. For what faies Quinapalus, Better a witty foole, then a foolish wit. God bleffe thee Lady.

:

Ol. Take the foole away.

Clo. Do you not heare fellowes, take away the Ladie. Ol. Go too, y'are a dry foole: Ile no more of you:befides you grow dif-honeft.

Clo. Two faults Madona, that drinke & good counsell wil amend for giue the dry foole drink, then is the foole not dry bid the dishonest man mend himself, if he mend, he is no longer difhoneft; if hee cannot, let the Botcher mend him any thing that's mended, is but patch'd: vertu that tranfgreffes, is but patcht with finne, and fin that amends, is but patcht with vertue. If that this fimple Sillogifme will ferue, fo: if it will not, vvhat remedy? Y 3 A s

:

As there is no true Cuckold but calamity, fo beauties a flower; The Lady bad take away the foole, therefore I fay againe, take her away.

Ol. Sir, I bad them take away you.

Clo. Mifprifion in the highest degree. Lady, Cucullus non facit monachum: that's as much to fay, as I weare not motley in my braine: good Madona, giue mee leaue to proue you a foole.

Ol. Can you do it?

Clo. Dexteriously, good Madona.

Ol. Make your proofe.

Clo. I muft catechize you for it Madona, Good my Moufe of vertue anfwer mee.

Ol. Well fir, for want of other idleneffe, Ile bide your proofe.

Clo. Good Madona, why mournft thou?
Ol. Good foole, for my brothers death.
Clo. I thinke his foule is in hell, Madona.
Ol. I know his foule is in heauen, foole.

Clo. The more foole (Madona) to mourne for your Brothers foule, being in heauen. Take away the Foole, Gentlemen.

Ol. What thinke you of this foole Maluolio, doth he not mend?

Mal. Yes, and fhall do, till the pangs of death fhake him Infirmity that decaies the wife, doth euer make the better foole.

Clow. God fend you fir, a fpeedie Infirmity, for the better increafing your folly Sir Toby will be fworn that I am no Fox, but he wil not paffe his word for two pence that you are no Foole.

Ol. How fay you to that Maluolio?

Mal. I maruell your Ladyship takes delight in fuch a barren rafcall: I faw him put down the other day, with an ordinary foole, that has no more braine then a stone. Looke you now, he's out of his gard already : vnles you laugh and minifter occafion to him, he is gag'd. I proteft I take these Wifemen, that crow fo at these fet kinde of fooles, no better then the fooles Zanies.

Ol. O you are ficke of felfe-loue Maluolio, and taste with a diftemper'd appetite. To be generous, guitleffe, and of free difpofition, is to take thofe things for Birdbolts, that you deeme Cannon bullets: There is no flander in an allow'd foole, though he do nothing but rayle; nor no rayling, in a knowne difcreet man, though hee do nothing but reproue.

Clo. Now Mercury indue thee with leafing, for thou fpeak'ft well of fooles.

Enter Maria.

Mar. Madam, there is at the gate, a young Gentleman, much defires to fpeake with you.

Ol. From the Count Orfino, is it?

Ma I know not (Madam) 'tis a faire young man, and well attended.

Ol. Who of my people hold him in delay?
Ma. Sir Toby Madam, your kinsman.

Ol. Fetch him off I pray you, he fpeakes nothing but madman: Fie on him. Go you Maluolio; If it be a fuit from the Count, I am ficke, or not at home. What you will, to difmiffe it. Exit Maluo.

Now you fee fir, how your fooling growes old, & people diflike it.

:

Clo. Thou haft fpoke for vs (Madona) as if thy eldest fonne fhould be a foole who fe fcull, Ioue cramme with braines, for heere he comes. Enter Sir Toby. One of thy kin has a most weake Pia-mater.

Enter Maluolio.

Mal. Madam, yond young fellow fweares hee will speake with you. I told him you were ficke, he takes on him to vnderstand fo much, and therefore comes to speak with you. I told him you were asleepe, he seems to haue a fore knowledge of that too, and therefore comes to fpeake with you. What is to be faid to him Ladie, hee's fortified against any deniall.

Ol. Tell him, he shall not fpeake with me.

Mal. Ha's beene told fo: and hee fayes hee'l ftand at your doore like a Sheriffes poft, and be the fupporter to a bench, but hee'l fpeake with you. Ol. What kinde o'man is he? Mal. Why of mankinde.

Ol. What manner of man?

Mal. Of verie ill manner : hee'l fpeake with you, will

you, or no.

Ol. Of what perfonage, and yeeres is he?

Mal. Not yet old enough for a man, nor yong enough for a boy as a squash is before tis a pefcod, or a Codling when tis almoft an Apple: Tis with him in ftanding water, betweene boy and man. He is verie well-fauour'd, and he fpeakes verie fhrewithly: One would thinke his mothers milke were scarfe out of him.

Ol. Let him approach: Call in my Gentlewoman.
Mal. Gentlewoman, my Lady calles.

Enter Maria.

Ol. Giue me my vaile : come throw it ore my face, Wee'l once more heare Orfinos Embaffie.

Enter Violenta.

Exit.

Vio. The honorable Ladie of the house, which is the? Ol. Speake to me, I shall answer for her: your will. Vio. Moft radiant, exquifite, and vnmatchable beautie. pray you tell me if this bee the Lady of the house, for I neuer faw her. I would bee loath to caft away my fpeech for befides that it is excellently well pend, I haue taken great paines to con it. Good Beauties, let mee fuftaine no fcorne; I am very comptible, euen to the leaft finifter vfage.

Ol. Whence came you fir?

Vio. I can fay little more then I haue ftudied, & that queftion's out of my part. Good gentle one, giue mee modeft affurance, if you be the Ladie of the house, that I

may proceede in my speech. Ol. Are you a Comedian? Vio. No my profound heart : and yet (by the verie phangs of malice, I fweare) I am not that I play. Are you the Ladie of the house?

Ol. If I do not vfurpe my felfe, I am.

Vio. Most certaine, if you are fhe, you do vfurp your felfe for what is yours to bestowe, is, not yours to referue. But this is from my Commiffion : I will on with my speech in your praife, and then fhew you the heart of my meffage.

:

Ol. Come to what is important in't I forgiue you the praise.

Vio. Alas, I tooke great paines to ftudie it, and 'tis Poeticall.

Ol. It is the more like to be feigned, I pray you keep it in.I heard you were fawcy at my gates, & allowd your approach rather to wonder at you, then to heare you. If you be not mad, be gone: if you haue reafon, be breefe : 'tis not that time of Moone with me, to make one in fo skipping a dialogue.

Ma. Will you hoyft fayle fir, here lies your way. Vio. No good fwabber, I am to hull here a little longer. Some mollification for your Giant, fweete Ladie; tell me your minde, I am a messenger.

Ol. Sure you haue fome hiddeous matter to deliuer, when the curtefie of it is fo fearefull. Speake your office. Vio. It alone concernes your eare: I bring no ouerture of warre, no taxation of homage; I hold the Olyffe in my hand my words are as full of peace, as matter. Ol. Yet you began rudely. What are you? What would you?

Vio. The rudeneffe that hath appear'd in mee, haue I learn'd from my entertainment. What I am, and what I would, are as fecret as maiden-head to your eares, Diuinity; to any others, prophanation.

Ol. Giue vs the place alone,

We will heare this diuinitie. Now fir, what is your text? Vio. Moft fweet Ladie.

Ol. A comfortable doctrine, and much may bee faide of it. Where lies your Text?

Vio. In Orfinoes bofome.

Ot. In his bofome? In what chapter of his bofome? Vio. To answer by the method, in the first of his hart. Ol. O, I haue read it: it is here fie. Haue you no more to fay?

Vio. Good Madam, let me see your face.

Ol. Haue you any Commission from your Lord, to negotiate with my face : : you are now out of your Text: but we will draw the Curtain, and fhew you the picture. Looke you fir, fuch a one I was this prefent: Ift not well done?

Vio. Excellently done, if God did all.

Ol. 'Tis in graine fir, 'twill endure winde and weather.

Vio. Tis beauty truly blent, whofe red and white,
Natures owne fweet, and cunning hand laid on:
Lady, you are the cruell'ft fhee aliue,

If you will leade these graces to the graue,
And leaue the world no copie.

Ol. O fir, I will not be fo hard-hearted: I will giue out diuers fcedules of my beautie. It fhalbe Inuentoried and euery particle and vtenfile labell'd to my will: As, Item two lippes indifferent redde, Item two grey eyes, with lids to them: Item, one necke, one chin, & fo forth. Were you fent hither to praise me?

Vio. I fee you what you are, you are too proud:
But if you were the diuell, you are faire :
My Lord, and mafter loues you: O fuch loue
Could be but recompenc'd, though you were crown'd
The non-pareil of beautie.

Ol. How does he loue me?

Vio, With adorations, fertill teares,

With groanes that thunder loue, with fighes of fire.
Ol. Your Lord does know my mind, I cannot loue him
Yet I fuppofe him vertuous, know him noble,
Of great estate, of fresh and stainlesse youth;
In voyces well divulg'd, free, learn'd, and valiant,
And in dimenfion, and the fhape of nature,
A gracious perfon; But yet I cannot loue him:
He might haue tooke his anfwer long ago.

Vio. If I did loue you in my masters flame,
With fuch a fuffring, fuch a deadly life:
In your deniall, I would finde no fence,
I would not vnderstand it.

Ol. Why, what would you?

Vio. Make me a willow Cabine at your gate,
And call vpon my foule within the house,
Write loyall Cantons of contemned loue,
And fing them lowd euen in the dead of night:
Hallow your name to the reuerberate hilles,
And make the babling Gofsip of the aire,
Cry out Oliuia: O you should not reft
Betweene the elements of ayre, and earth,
But you should pittie me.

Ol. You might do much :
What is your Parentage?

Vio. Aboue my fortunes, yet my state is well : I am a Gentleman.

Ol. Get you to your Lord:

I cannot loue him: let him fend no more,
Vnleffe(perchance) you come to me againe,
To tell me how he takes it: Fare you well:
I thanke you for your paines: fpend this for mee.
Vio. I am no feede poaft, Lady; keepe your purse,
My Master, not my felfe, lackes recompence.
Loue make his heart of flint, that you shal loue,
And let your feruour like my masters be,
Plac'd in contempt: Farwell fayre crueltie.
Ol. What is your Parentage?
Aboue my fortunes, yet my state is well;

I am a Gentleman. Ile be fworne thou art,
Thy tongue, thy face, thy limbes, actions, and fpirit,
Do giue thee fiue-fold blazon: not too fast: soft, soft,
Vnleffe the Mafter were the man. How now?
Euen fo quickly may one catch the plague ?
Me thinkes I feele this youths perfections
With an inuifible, and fubtle ftealth

To creepe in at mine eyes. Well, let it be.
What hoa, Maluolio.

Enter Maluolio.

Mal. Heere Madam, at your feruice.

Ol. Run after that fame peeuifh Messenger The Countes man he left this Ring behinde him Would I, or not tell him, Ile none of it. Defire him not to flatter with his Lord, Nor hold him vp with hopes, I am not for him : If that the youth will come this way to morrow, Ile giue him reafons for't: hie thee Maluolio. Mal. Madam, I will.

Ol. I do I know not what, and feare to finde Mine eye too great a flatterer for my minde:

Exit

Exit.

Fate