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THE PASTORAL, BY CH. MARLOWE,

Referred to Act iii. Sc. 1, of the foregoing Play.

COME, live with me, and be my love,
And we will all the pleasures prove,
That hills and valleys, dales and field,
And all the craggy mountains, yield.
There will we sit upon the rocks,
And see the shepherds feed their flocks.
By shallow rivers, by whose falls
Melodious birds sing madrigals-
There will I make thee beds of roses
With a thousand fragrant posies;
A cap of flowers and a kirtle
Embroidered all with leaves of myrtle;
A gown made of the finest wool,
Which from the pretty lambs we pull;
Fair-lined slippers for the cold,
With buckles of the purest gold;
A belt of straw, and ivy buds,
With coral clasps and amber studs:
And if these pleasures may thee move,
Come, live with me, and be my love.
Thy silver dishes for thy meat,
As precious as the gods do eat,
Shall on thy ivory table be

Prepared each day for thee and me.

The shepherd swains shall dance and sing

For thy delight, each May morning:
If these delights thy mind may move,
Then live with me, and be my love.

TWELFTH NIGHT;

OR,

WHAT YOU WILL.

PRELIMINARY REMARKS.

THE plot of this admirable comedy appears to have been taken from the second tale in a collection by Barnabe Riche, entitled, "Rich his Farewell to the Militarie Profession," which was first printed in 1583. It is probably borrowed from Les Histoires Tragiques de Belleforest, vol. iv. Hist. viime. Belleforest, as usual, copied Bandello. In the fifth eglog of Barnaby Googe, published with his poems in 1563, an incident somewhat similar to that of the duke sending his page to plead his cause with the lady, and the lady falling in love with the page, may be found. But Rich's narration is the more probable source, and resembles the plot more completely. It is too long for insertion here, but may be found in the late edition of Malone's Shakspeare, by Mr. Boswell.

The comic scenes appear to have been entirely the creation of the poet, and they are worthy of his transcendent genius. It is indeed one of the most delightful of Shakspeare's comedies. Dr. Johnson thought the natural fatuity of Ague-cheek hardly fair game; but the good-nature with which his folly and his pretensions are brought forward for our amusement, by humoring his whims, are almost without a spice of satire. It is rather an attempt to give pleasure by exhibiting an exaggerated picture of his foibles, than a wish to give pain by exposing their absurdity.

PERSONS REPRESENTED.

ORSINO, Duke of Illyria.

SEBASTIAN, a young Gentleman, Brother to Viola.
ANTONIO, a Sea Captain, Friend to Sebastian.
A Sea Captain, Friend to Viola.

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Lords, Priests, Sailors, Officers, Musicians, and other Attendants.

SCENE. A City in Illyria, and the Sea-coast near it.

TWELFTH NIGHT;

OR,

WHAT YOU WILL.

ACT I.

SCENE I. An Apartment in the Duke's Palace.

Enter DUKE, CURIO, Lords; Musicians attending.
Duke. If music be the food of love, play on;
Give me excess of it; that, surfeiting,
The appetite may sicken, and so die.-
That strain again;-it had a dying fall:
O, it came o'er my ear like the sweet south,'
That breathes upon a bank of violets,

Stealing, and giving odor.-Enough; no more;
'Tis not so sweet now as it was before.

O spirit of love, how quick and fresh art thou!
That, notwithstanding thy capacity
Receiveth as the sea, nought enters there,
Of what validity and pitch soever,
But falls into abatement and low price,
Even in a minute! so full of shapes is fancy,
That it alone is high-fantastical.3

Cur. Will you go hunt, my lord?
Duke.

What, Curio?

1 The old copies read sound: the emendation is Pope's. Rowe had changed it to wind. In Sidney's Arcadia, 1590, we have "more sweet than a gentle south-west wind, which comes creeping over flowery fields." 2 Value.

3 Fantastical to the height. This is the usual reading; but may it not have been originally written, "hight (i. e. called) fantastical"?

VOL. I.

32

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Cur.

The hart.

Duke. Why, so I do, the noblest that I have:
O, when mine eyes did see Olivia first,
Methought she purged the air of pestilence;
That instant was I turned into a hart;
And my desires, like fell and cruel hounds,

E'er since pursue me.-How now? what news from her?

Enter VALENTINE.

Val. So please my lord, I might not be admitted, But from her handmaid do return this answer: The element itself, till seven years heat,1 Shall not behold her face at ample view;

But, like a cloistress, she will veiled walk,

And water once a day her chamber round
With eye-offending brine: all this, to season
A brother's dead love, which she would keep fresh,
And lasting, in her sad remembrance.

Duke. O, she that hath a heart of that fine frame,
To pay this debt of love but to a brother,
How will she love, when the rich golden shaft
Hath killed the flock2 of all affections else
That live in her! when liver, brain, and heart,
These sovereign thrones, are all supplied, and filled
(Her sweet perfections) with one self3 king!—
Away before me to sweet beds of flowers;
Love-thoughts lie rich, when canopied with bowers.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II. The Sea-coast.

Enter VIOLA, Captain, and Sailors.

Vio. What country, friends, is this?
Cap.

Vio. And what should I do in Illyria?

Illyria, lady.

1 This passage is obscure: perhaps the meaning is, seven summers. 2 So in Sidney's Arcadia-"the flock of unspeakable virtues." 3 Self king signifies self-same king.

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