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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.
Clo. Are you ready, sir?
Fly away, fly away, breath;
white, stuck all with yew,
?, prepare it;
Did share it.
Not a friend, not a friend greet
Lay me, 0, where
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 taffata, 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,
Vio. But, if she cannot love you, sir?
'Sooth, but you must.
you have for Olivia : you cannot love her: You tell her so; Must she not then be answer'd?
Duke. There is no woman's sides,
Ay, but I know,—
Vio. Too well what love women to men may owe:
And what's her history?
Duke. But died thy sister of her love, my boy?
Vio. I am all the daughters of my father's house,
Ay, that's the theme.
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 nig: gardly rascally sheep-biter come by some notable shame?
Fab. I would exult, man: you know, he brought me out of favour 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.
Mar. Get ye all three into the box-tree; Malvolio's coming down this walk; he hath been yonder i'the sun, practising behaviour to his own shadow, this half hour:
observe him, for the love of mockery; for, I know,
Sir To. Here's an over-weening rogue !
Fab. O, peace! Contemplation makes a rare turkey-
Sir And. 'Slight, I could so beat the rogue :-
Sir To. Ah, rogue !
Sir And. Pistol him, pistol him.
Mal. There is example for't; the lady of the strachy married the yeoman of the wardrobe.
Sir And. Fie on him, Jezebel !
Fab. O, peace! now lie'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 left Olivia sleeping..
Sir To. Fire and brimstone!
Mal. And then to have the humour of state : and after a demure travel of regard,-telling them, I know my place, as I would they should do theirs-tó 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 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.
Mal. L'extend my hand to him thus, quenching my familiar smile with an austere regard of control :
Sir To. And does not Toby take you a blow o'lhe lips then?
Mal. Saying, Cousin Toby, my fortunes having, cast me on your niece, give me this prerogative of speech :
Sir To. What, what?
Mal. Besides, you waste the treasure of your time with a foolish knight ;
Sir And. That's me, I warrant you.
[Taking up the Letter.
Sir To. 0, peace ! and the spirit of humours intimate reading aloud to him!
Mal. By my life, that is my lady's hand: these be her very C's, her U's, and her T's: and thus makes she her great P's. It is, in contempt of question, her hand.
Sir And. Her C's, her U's, and her T's: why that?
Mal. [Reads.] To the unknown beloved, this, and my good wishes : her very phrases! By your leave, wax.Soft!—and the impressure her Lucrece, with which she uses to seal : 'tis my lady: To whom should this be?
Fab. This wins him, liver and all.