And. Where shall I finde you?To. Wee'l call thee at the Cubiculo: Go.
Exit Sir Andrew.
Fa. This is a deere Manakin to you Sir Toby
To. I haue beene deere to him lad, some two thousandstrong, or so
Fa. We shall haue a rare Letter from him; but you'lenot deliuer't
To. Neuer trust me then: and by all meanes stirre on the youth to an answer. I thinke Oxen and waine-ropes cannot hale them together. For Andrew, if he were open'd and you finde so much blood in his Liuer, as will clog the foote of a flea, Ile eate the rest of th' anatomy
Fab. And his opposit the youth beares in his visage no great presage of cruelty. Enter Maria.
To. Looke where the youngest Wren of mine comes
Mar. If you desire the spleene, and will laughe your selues into stitches, follow me; yond gull Maluolio is turned Heathen, a verie Renegatho; for there is no christian that meanes to be saued by beleeuing rightly, can euer beleeue such impossible passages of grossenesse. Hee's in yellow stockings
To. And crosse garter'd? Mar. Most villanously: like a Pedant that keepes a Schoole i'th Church: I haue dogg'd him like his murtherer. He does obey euery point of the Letter that I dropt, to betray him: He does smile his face into more lynes, then is in the new Mappe, with the augmentation of the Indies: you haue not seene such a thing as tis: I can hardly forbeare hurling things at him, I know my Ladie will strike him: if shee doe, hee'l smile, and take't for a great fauour
To. Come bring vs, bring vs where he is.
Exeunt. Omnes.
Scaena Tertia.
Enter Sebastian and Anthonio.
Seb. I would not by my will haue troubled you,But since you make your pleasure of your paines,I will no further chide you
Ant. I could not stay behinde you: my desire(More sharpe then filed steele) did spurre me forth,And not all loue to see you (though so muchAs might haue drawne one to a longer voyage)But iealousie, what might befall your trauell,Being skillesse in these parts: which to a stranger,Vnguided, and vnfriended, often proueRough, and vnhospitable. My willing loue,The rather by these arguments of feareSet forth in your pursuite
Seb. My kinde Anthonio,I can no other answer make, but thankes,And thankes: and euer oft good turnes,Are shuffel'd off with such vncurrant pay:But were my worth, as is my conscience firme,You should finde better dealing: what's to do?Shall we go see the reliques of this Towne?Ant. To morrow sir, best first go see your Lodging?Seb. I am not weary, and 'tis long to nightI pray you let vs satisfie our eyesWith the memorials, and the things of fameThat do renowne this City
Ant. Would youl'd pardon me:I do not without danger walke these streetes.Once in a sea-fight 'gainst the Count his gallies,I did some seruice, of such note indeede,That were I tane heere, it would scarse be answer'd
Seb. Belike you slew great number of his people
Ant. Th' offence is not of such a bloody nature,Albeit the quality of the time, and quarrellMight well haue giuen vs bloody argument:It might haue since bene answer'd in repayingWhat we tooke from them, which for Traffiques sakeMost of our City did. Onely my selfe stood out,For which if I be lapsed in this placeI shall pay deere
Seb. Do not then walke too open
Ant. It doth not fit me: hold sir, here's my purse,In the South Suburbes at the ElephantIs best to lodge: I will bespeake our dyet,Whiles you beguile the time, and feed your knowledgeWith viewing of the Towne, there shall you haue me
Seb. Why I your purse?Ant. Haply your eye shall light vpon some toyYou haue desire to purchase: and your storeI thinke is not for idle Markets, sir
Seb. Ile be your purse-bearer, and leaue youFor an houre
Ant. To th' Elephant
Seb. I do remember.
Exeunt.
Scoena Quarta.
Enter Oliuia and Maria.
Ol. I haue sent after him, he sayes hee'l come:How shall I feast him? What bestow of him?For youth is bought more oft, then begg'd, or borrow'd.I speake too loud: Where's Maluolio, he is sad, and ciuill,And suites well for a seruant with my fortunes,Where is Maluolio?Mar. He's comming Madame:But in very strange manner. He is sure possest Madam
Ol. Why what's the matter, does he raue?Mar. No Madam, he does nothing but smile: your Ladyshipwere best to haue some guard about you, if heecome, for sure the man is tainted in's wits
Ol. Go call him hither.Enter Maluolio.
I am as madde as hee,If sad and merry madnesse equall bee.How now Maluolio?Mal. Sweet Lady, ho, ho
Ol. Smil'st thou? I sent for thee vpon a sad occasion
Mal. Sad Lady, I could be sad:This does make some obstruction in the blood:This crosse-gartering, but what of that?If it please the eye of one, it is with me as the very trueSonnet is: Please one, and please all
Mal. Why how doest thou man? What is the matter with thee? Mal. Not blacke in my minde, though yellow in my legges: It did come to his hands, and Commaunds shall be executed. I thinke we doe know the sweet Romane hand
Ol. Wilt thou go to bed Maluolio?Mal. To bed? I sweet heart, and Ile come to thee
Ol. God comfort thee: Why dost thou smile so, andkisse thy hand so oft?Mar. How do you Maluolio?Maluo. At your request:Yes Nightingales answere Dawes
Mar. Why appeare you with this ridiculous boldnessebefore my Lady
Mal. Be not afraid of greatnesse: 'twas well writ
Ol. What meanst thou by that Maluolio?Mal. Some are borne great
Ol. Ha?Mal. Some atcheeue greatnesse
Ol. What sayst thou?Mal. And some haue greatnesse thrust vpon them
Ol. Heauen restore thee
Mal. Remember who commended thy yellow stockings
Ol. Thy yellow stockings?Mal. And wish'd to see thee crosse garter'd
Ol. Crosse garter'd?Mal. Go too, thou art made, if thou desir'st to be so
Ol. Am I made?Mal. If not, let me see thee a seruant still
Ol. Why this is verie Midsommer madnesse.Enter Seruant.
Ser. Madame, the young Gentleman of the Count Orsino's is return'd, I could hardly entreate him backe: he attends your Ladyships pleasure
Ol. Ile come to him. Good Maria, let this fellow be look'd too. Where's my Cosine Toby, let some of my people haue a speciall care of him, I would not haue him miscarrie for the halfe of my Dowry.
Exit
Mal. Oh ho, do you come neere me now: no worse man then sir Toby to looke to me. This concurres directly with the Letter, she sends him on purpose, that I may appeare stubborne to him: for she incites me to that in the Letter. Cast thy humble slough sayes she: be opposite with a Kinsman, surly with seruants, let thy tongue langer with arguments of state, put thy selfe into the tricke of singularity: and consequently setts downe the manner how: as a sad face, a reuerend carriage, a slow tongue, in the habite of some Sir of note, and so foorth. I haue lymde her, but it is Ioues doing, and Ioue make me thankefull. And when she went away now, let this Fellow be look'd too: Fellow? not Maluolio, nor after my degree, but Fellow. Why euery thing adheres togither, that no dramme of a scruple, no scruple of a scruple, no obstacle, no incredulous or vnsafe circumstance: What can be saide? Nothing that can be, can come betweene me, and the full prospect of my hopes. Well Ioue, not I, is the doer of this, and he is to be thanked. Enter Toby, Fabian, and Maria.
To. Which way is hee in the name of sanctity. If all the diuels of hell be drawne in little, and Legion himselfe possest him, yet Ile speake to him
Fab. Heere he is, heere he is: how ist with you sir?How ist with you man?Mal. Go off, I discard you: let me enioy my priuate:go off
Mar. Lo, how hollow the fiend speakes within him; did not I tell you? Sir Toby, my Lady prayes you to haue a care of him
Mal. Ah ha, does she so? To. Go too, go too: peace, peace, wee must deale gently with him: Let me alone. How do you Maluolio? How ist with you? What man, defie the diuell: consider, he's an enemy to mankinde
Mal. Do you know what you say?Mar. La you, and you speake ill of the diuell, howhe takes it at heart. Pray God he be not bewitch'd
Fab. Carry his water to th' wise woman
Mar. Marry and it shall be done to morrow morning if I liue. My Lady would not loose him for more then ile say
Mal. How now mistris?Mar. Oh Lord
To. Prethee hold thy peace, this is not the way: Doeyou not see you moue him? Let me alone with him
Fa. No way but gentlenesse, gently, gently: the Fiendis rough, and will not be roughly vs'd
To. Why how now my bawcock? how dost y chuck?Mal. Sir
To. I biddy, come with me. What man, tis not for grauity to play at cherrie-pit with sathan Hang him foul Colliar
Mar. Get him to say his prayers, good sir Toby gette him to pray
Mal. My prayers Minx
Mar. No I warrant you, he will not heare of godlynesse
Mal. Go hang your selues all: you are ydle shallowe things, I am not of your element, you shall knowe more heereafter.
Exit
To. Ist possible?Fa. If this were plaid vpon a stage now, I could condemneit as an improbable fiction
To. His very genius hath taken the infection of thedeuice man
Mar. Nay pursue him now, least the deuice take ayre,and taint
Fa. Why we shall make him mad indeede
Mar. The house will be the quieter
To. Come, wee'l haue him in a darke room & bound. My Neece is already in the beleefe that he's mad: we may carry it thus for our pleasure, and his pennance, til our very pastime tyred out of breath, prompt vs to haue mercy on him: at which time, we wil bring the deuice to the bar and crowne thee for a finder of madmen: but see, but see. Enter Sir Andrew.
Fa. More matter for a May morning
An. Heere's the Challenge, reade it: I warrant there'svinegar and pepper in't
Fab. Ist so sawcy?And. I, ist? I warrant him: do but read
To. Giue me.Youth, whatsoeuer thou art, thou art but a scuruy fellow
Fa. Good, and valiant
To. Wonder not, nor admire not in thy minde why I doe callthee so, for I will shew thee no reason for't
Fa. A good note, that keepes you from the blow of y LawTo. Thou comst to the Lady Oliuia, and in my sight she vsesthee kindly: but thou lyest in thy throat, that is not the matterI challenge thee for
Fa. Very breefe, and to exceeding good sence-lesse
To. I will way-lay thee going home, where if it be thy chance to kill me
Fa. Good
To. Thou kilst me like a rogue and a villaine
Fa. Still you keepe o'th windie side of the Law: good
Tob. Fartheewell, and God haue mercie vpon one of our soules. He may haue mercie vpon mine, but my hope is better, and so looke to thy selfe. Thy friend as thou vsest him, & thy sworne enemie, Andrew Ague-cheeke
To. If this Letter moue him not, his legges cannot:Ile giu't him
Mar. You may haue verie fit occasion for't: he is now in some commerce with my Ladie, and will by and by depart
To. Go sir Andrew: scout mee for him at the corner of the Orchard like a bum-Baylie: so soone as euer thou seest him, draw, and as thou draw'st, sweare horrible: for it comes to passe oft, that a terrible oath, with a swaggering accent sharpely twang'd off, giues manhoode more approbation, then euer proofe it selfe would haue earn'd him. Away
And. Nay let me alone for swearing.
Exit
To. Now will not I deliuer his Letter: for the behauiour of the yong Gentleman, giues him out to be of good capacity, and breeding: his employment betweene his Lord and my Neece, confirmes no lesse. Therefore, this Letter being so excellently ignorant, will breed no terror in the youth: he will finde it comes from a Clodde-pole. But sir, I will deliuer his Challenge by word of mouth; set vpon Ague-cheeke a notable report of valor, and driue the Gentleman (as I know his youth will aptly receiue it) into a most hideous opinion of his rage, skill, furie, and impetuositie. This will so fright them both, that they wil kill one another by the looke, like Cockatrices. Enter Oliuia and Viola.
Fab. Heere he comes with your Neece, giue them waytill he take leaue, and presently after him
To. I wil meditate the while vpon some horrid messagefor a Challenge
Ol. I haue said too much vnto a hart of stone,And laid mine honour too vnchary on't:There's something in me that reproues my fault:But such a head-strong potent fault it is,That it but mockes reproofe
Vio. With the same hauiour that your passion beares,Goes on my Masters greefes
Ol. Heere, weare this Iewell for me, tis my picture:Refuse it not, it hath no tongue, to vex you:And I beseech you come againe to morrow.What shall you aske of me that Ile deny,That honour (sau'd) may vpon asking giue
Vio. Nothing but this, your true loue for my master
Ol. How with mine honor may I giue him that,Which I haue giuen to you
Vio. I will acquit you
Ol. Well, come againe to morrow: far-thee-well,A Fiend like thee might beare my soule to hell.Enter Toby and Fabian.
To. Gentleman, God saue thee
Vio. And you sir
To. That defence thou hast, betake the too't: of what nature the wrongs are thou hast done him, I knowe not: but thy intercepter full of despight, bloody as the Hunter, attends thee at the Orchard end: dismount thy tucke, be yare in thy preparation, for thy assaylant is quick, skilfull, and deadly
Vio. You mistake sir I am sure, no man hath any quarrell to me: my remembrance is very free and cleere from any image of offence done to any man
To. You'l finde it otherwise I assure you: therefore, if you hold your life at any price, betake you to your gard: for your opposite hath in him what youth, strength, skill, and wrath, can furnish man withall
Vio. I pray you sir what is he? To. He is knight dubb'd with vnhatch'd Rapier, and on carpet consideration, but he is a diuell in priuate brall, soules and bodies hath he diuorc'd three, and his incensement at this moment is so implacable, that satisfaction can be none, but by pangs of death and sepulcher: Hob, nob, is his word: giu't or take't
Vio. I will returne againe into the house, and desire some conduct of the Lady. I am no fighter, I haue heard of some kinde of men, that put quarrells purposely on others, to taste their valour: belike this is a man of that quirke
To. Sir, no: his indignation deriues it selfe out of a very computent iniurie, therefore get you on, and giue him his desire. Backe you shall not to the house, vnlesse you vndertake that with me, which with as much safetie you might answer him: therefore on, or strippe your sword starke naked: for meddle you must that's certain, or forsweare to weare iron about you
Vio. This is as vnciuill as strange. I beseech you doe me this courteous office, as to know of the Knight what my offence to him is: it is something of my negligence, nothing of my purpose
To. I will doe so. Signiour Fabian, stay you by thisGentleman, till my returne.
Exit Toby.
Vio. Pray you sir, do you know of this matter?Fab. I know the knight is incenst against you, euen toa mortall arbitrement, but nothing of the circumstancemore
Vio. I beseech you what manner of man is he? Fab. Nothing of that wonderfull promise to read him by his forme, as you are like to finde him in the proofe of his valour. He is indeede sir, the most skilfull, bloudy, & fatall opposite that you could possibly haue found in anie part of Illyria: will you walke towards him, I will make your peace with him, if I can
Vio. I shall bee much bound to you for't: I am one, that had rather go with sir Priest, then sir knight: I care not who knowes so much of my mettle.
Exeunt.
Enter Toby and Andrew.
To. Why man hee s a verie diuell, I haue not seen such a firago: I had a passe with him, rapier, scabberd, and all: and he giues me the stucke in with such a mortall motion that it is ineuitable: and on the answer, he payes you as surely, as your feete hits the ground they step on. They say, he has bin Fencer to the Sophy
And. Pox on't, Ile not meddle with him
To. I but he will not now be pacified,Fabian can scarse hold him yonder
An. Plague on't, and I thought he had beene valiant,and so cunning in Fence, I'de haue seene him damn'd ereI'de haue challeng'd him. Let him let the matter slip, andIle giue him my horse, gray Capilet
To. Ile make the motion: stand heere, make a good shew on't, this shall end without the perdition of soules, marry Ile ride your horse as well as I ride you. Enter Fabian and Viola.
I haue his horse to take vp the quarrell, I haue perswaded him the youths a diuell
Fa. He is as horribly conceited of him: and pants, &lookes pale, as if a Beare were at his heeles
To. There's no remedie sir, he will fight with you for's oath sake: marrie hee hath better bethought him of his quarrell, and hee findes that now scarse to bee worth talking of: therefore draw for the supportance of his vowe, he protests he will not hurt you
Vio. Pray God defend me: a little thing would make me tell them how much I lacke of a man
Fab. Giue ground if you see him furious
To. Come sir Andrew, there's no remedie, the Gentleman will for his honors sake haue one bowt with you: he cannot by the Duello auoide it: but hee has promised me, as he is a Gentleman and a Soldiour, he will not hurt you. Come on, too't
And. Pray God he keepe his oath.Enter Antonio.
Vio. I do assure you tis against my will
Ant. Put vp your sword: if this yong GentlemanHaue done offence, I take the fault on me:If you offend him, I for him defie you
To. You sir? Why, what are you?Ant. One sir, that for his loue dares yet do moreThen you haue heard him brag to you he will
To. Nay, if you be an vndertaker, I am for you.Enter Officers.
Fab. O good sir Toby hold: heere come the Officers
To. Ile be with you anon
Vio. Pray sir, put your sword vp if you please
And. Marry will I sir: and for that I promis'd you Ile be as good as my word. Hee will beare you easily, and raines well
1.Off. This is the man, do thy Office
2.Off. Anthonio, I arrest thee at the suit of Count Orsino An. You do mistake me sir
1.Off. No sir, no iot: I know your fauour well: Though now you haue no sea-cap on your head: Take him away, he knowes I know him well
Ant. I must obey. This comes with seeking you:But there's no remedie, I shall answer it:What will you do: now my necessitieMakes me to aske you for my purse. It greeues meeMuch more, for what I cannot do for you,Then what befals my selfe: you stand amaz'd,But be of comfort
2.Off. Come sir away
Ant. I must entreat of you some of that money
Vio. What money sir?For the fayre kindnesse you haue shew'd me heere,And part being prompted by your present trouble,Out of my leane and low abilityIle lend you something: my hauing is not much,Ile make diuision of my present with you:Hold, there's halfe my Coffer
Ant. Will you deny me now,Ist possible that my deserts to youCan lacke perswasion. Do not tempt my misery,Least that it make me so vnsound a manAs to vpbraid you with those kindnessesThat I haue done for you
Vio. I know of none,Nor know I you by voyce, or any feature:I hate ingratitude more in a man,Then lying, vainnesse, babling drunkennesse,Or any taint of vice, whose strong corruptionInhabites our fraile blood
Ant. Oh heauens themselues
2.Off. Come sir, I pray you go
Ant. Let me speake a little. This youth that you see heere,I snatch'd one halfe out of the iawes of death,Releeu'd him with such sanctitie of loue;And to his image, which me thought did promiseMost venerable worth, did I deuotion
1.Off. What's that to vs, the time goes by: Away
Ant. But oh, how vilde an idoll proues this God:Thou hast Sebastian done good feature, shame.In Nature, there's no blemish but the minde:None can be call'd deform'd, but the vnkinde.Vertue is beauty, but the beauteous euillAre empty trunkes, ore-flourish'd by the deuill
1.Off. The man growes mad, away with him:Come, come sir
Ant. Leade me on.
Exit
Vio. Me thinkes his words do from such passion flyeThat he beleeues himselfe, so do not I:Proue true imagination, oh proue true,That I deere brother, be now tane for you
To. Come hither Knight, come hither Fabian: Weelwhisper ore a couplet or two of most sage sawes
Vio. He nam'd Sebastian: I my brother knowYet liuing in my glasse: euen such, and soIn fauour was my Brother, and he wentStill in this fashion, colour, ornament,For him I imitate: Oh if it proue,Tempests are kinde, and salt waues fresh in loue
To. A very dishonest paltry boy, and more a coward then a Hare, his dishonesty appeares, in leauing his frend heere in necessity, and denying him: and for his cowardship aske Fabian
Fab. A Coward, a most deuout Coward, religious in it
And. Slid Ile after him againe, and beate him
To. Do, cuffe him soundly, but neuer draw thy swordAnd. And I do not
Fab. Come, let's see the euent
To. I dare lay any money, twill be nothing yet.
Exit
Actus Quartus, Scaena prima.
Enter Sebastian and Clowne
Clo. Will you make me beleeue, that I am not sent foryou?Seb. Go too, go too, thou art a foolish fellow,Let me be cleere of thee
Clo. Well held out yfaith: No, I do not know you, nor I am not sent to you by my Lady, to bid you come speake with her: nor your name is not Master Cesario, nor this is not my nose neyther: Nothing that is so, is so
Seb. I prethee vent thy folly some-where else, thou know'st not me
Clo. Vent my folly: He has heard that word of some great man, and now applyes it to a foole. Vent my folly: I am affraid this great lubber the World will proue a Cockney: I prethee now vngird thy strangenes, and tell me what I shall vent to my Lady? Shall I vent to hir that thou art comming? Seb. I prethee foolish greeke depart from me, there's money for thee, if you tarry longer, I shall giue worse paiment
Clo. By my troth thou hast an open hand: these Wisemen that giue fooles money, get themselues a good report, after foureteene yeares purchase. Enter Andrew, Toby, and Fabian.
And. Now sir, haue I met you again: ther's for you
Seb. Why there's for thee, and there, and there,Are all the people mad?To. Hold sir, or Ile throw your dagger ore the houseClo. This will I tell my Lady straight, I would not bein some of your coats for two pence
To. Come on sir, hold
An. Nay let him alone, Ile go another way to worke with him: Ile haue an action of Battery against him, if there be any law in Illyria: though I stroke him first, yet it's no matter for that
Seb. Let go thy hand
To. Come sir, I will not let you go. Come my yong souldier put vp your yron: you are well flesh'd: Come on
Seb. I will be free from thee. What wouldst y now?If thou dar'st tempt me further, draw thy sword
To. What, what? Nay then I must haue an Ounce or two of this malapert blood from you. Enter Oliuia.
Ol. Hold Toby, on thy life I charge thee hold
To. Madam
Ol. Will it be euer thus? Vngracious wretch,Fit for the Mountaines, and the barbarous Caues,Where manners nere were preach'd: out of my sight.Be not offended, deere Cesario:Rudesbey be gone. I prethee gentle friend,Let thy fayre wisedome, not thy passion swayIn this vnciuill, and vniust extentAgainst thy peace. Go with me to my house,And heare thou there how many fruitlesse prankesThis Ruffian hath botch'd vp, that thou therebyMayst smile at this: Thou shalt not choose but goe:Do not denie, beshrew his soule for mee,He started one poore heart of mine, in thee
Seb. What rellish is in this? How runs the streame?Or I am mad, or else this is a dreame:Let fancie still my sense in Lethe steepe,If it be thus to dreame, still let me sleepe
Ol. Nay come I prethee, would thoud'st be rul'd by meSeb. Madam, I will
Ol. O say so, and so be.
Exeunt.
Scoena Secunda.
Enter Maria and Clowne.
Mar. Nay, I prethee put on this gown, & this beard, make him beleeue thou art sir Topas the Curate, doe it quickly. Ile call sir Toby the whilst
Clo. Well, Ile put it on, and I will dissemble my selfe in't, and I would I were the first that euer dissembled in in such a gowne. I am not tall enough to become the function well, nor leane enough to bee thought a good Studient: but to be said an honest man and a good houskeeper goes as fairely, as to say, a carefull man, & a great scholler. The Competitors enter. Enter Toby.
To. Ioue blesse thee M[aster]. Parson
Clo. Bonos dies sir Toby: for as the old hermit of Prage that neuer saw pen and inke, very wittily sayd to a Neece of King Gorbodacke, that that is, is: so I being M[aster]. Parson, am M[aster]. Parson; for what is that, but that? and is, but is? To. To him sir Topas
Clow. What hoa, I say, Peace in this prison
To. The knaue counterfets well: a good knaue.
Maluolio within.
Mal. Who cals there?Clo. Sir Topas the Curate, who comes to visit Maluoliothe Lunaticke
Mal. Sir Topas, sir Topas, good sir Topas goe to myLadie
Clo. Out hyperbolicall fiend, how vexest thou thisman? Talkest thou nothing but of Ladies?Tob. Well said M[aster]. Parson
Mal. Sir Topas, neuer was man thus wronged, good sir Topas do not thinke I am mad: they haue layde mee heere in hideous darknesse
Clo. Fye, thou dishonest sathan: I call thee by the most modest termes, for I am one of those gentle ones, that will vse the diuell himselfe with curtesie: sayst thou that house is darke? Mal. As hell sir Topas
Clo. Why it hath bay Windowes transparant as baricadoes, and the cleere stores toward the South north, are as lustrous as Ebony: and yet complainest thou of obstruction? Mal. I am not mad sir Topas, I say to you this house is darke
Clo. Madman thou errest: I say there is no darknesse but ignorance, in which thou art more puzel'd then the aegyptians in their fogge
Mal. I say this house is as darke as Ignorance, thogh Ignorance were as darke as hell; and I say there was neuer man thus abus'd, I am no more madde then you are, make the triall of it in any constant question
Clo. What is the opinion of Pythagoras concerningWilde-fowle?Mal. That the soule of our grandam, might happilyinhabite a bird
Clo. What thinkst thou of his opinion?Mal. I thinke nobly of the soule, and no way aprouehis opinion
Clo. Fare thee well: remaine thou still in darkenesse, thou shalt hold th' opinion of Pythagoras, ere I will allow of thy wits, and feare to kill a Woodcocke, lest thou dispossesse the soule of thy grandam. Fare thee well
Mal. Sir Topas, sir Topas
Tob. My most exquisite sir Topas
Clo. Nay I am for all waters
Mar. Thou mightst haue done this without thy berd and gowne, he sees thee not
To. To him in thine owne voyce, and bring me word how thou findst him: I would we were well ridde of this knauery. If he may bee conueniently deliuer'd, I would he were, for I am now so farre in offence with my Niece, that I cannot pursue with any safety this sport the vppeshot. Come by and by to my Chamber.
Exit
Clo. Hey Robin, iolly Robin, tell me how thy Lady does
Mal. Foole
Clo. My Lady is vnkind, perdie
Mal. Foole
Clo. Alas why is she so?Mal. Foole, I say
Clo. She loues another. Who calles, ha? Mal. Good foole, as euer thou wilt deserue well at my hand, helpe me to a Candle, and pen, inke, and paper: as I am a Gentleman, I will liue to bee thankefull to thee for't
Clo. M[aster]. Maluolio?Mal. I good Foole
Clo. Alas sir, how fell you besides your fiue witts?Mall. Foole, there was neuer man so notoriouslie abus'd:I am as well in my wits (foole) as thou art
Clo. But as well: then you are mad indeede, if you beno better in your wits then a foole
Mal. They haue heere propertied me: keepe mee in darkenesse, send Ministers to me, Asses, and doe all they can to face me out of my wits
Clo. Aduise you what you say: the Minister is heere. Maluolio, Maluolio, thy wittes the heauens restore: endeauour thy selfe to sleepe, and leaue thy vaine bibble babble
Mal. Sir Topas
Clo. Maintaine no words with him good fellow.Who I sir, not I sir. God buy you good sir Topas: MarryAmen. I will sir, I will
Mal. Foole, foole, foole I say
Clo. Alas sir be patient. What say you sir, I am shent for speaking to you
Mal. Good foole, helpe me to some light, and some paper, I tell thee I am as well in my wittes, as any man in Illyria
Clo. Well-a-day, that you were sir
Mal. By this hand I am: good foole, some inke, paper, and light: and conuey what I will set downe to my Lady: it shall aduantage thee more, then euer the bearing of Letter did
Clo. I will help you too't. But tel me true, are you not mad indeed, or do you but counterfeit
Mal. Beleeue me I am not, I tell thee true
Clo. Nay, Ile nere beleeue a madman till I see his brainsI will fetch you light, and paper, and inke
Mal. Foole, Ile requite it in the highest degree:I prethee be gone
Clo. I am gone sir, and anon sir,Ile be with you againe:In a trice, like to the old vice,your neede to sustaine.Who with dagger of lath, in his rage and his wrath,cries ah ha, to the diuell:Like a mad lad, paire thy nayles dad,Adieu good man diuell.
Exit
Scaena Tertia.
Enter Sebastian.
This is the ayre, that is the glorious Sunne,This pearle she gaue me, I do feel't, and see't,And though tis wonder that enwraps me thus,Yet 'tis not madnesse. Where's Anthonio then,I could not finde him at the Elephant,Yet there he was, and there I found this credite,That he did range the towne to seeke me out,His councell now might do me golden seruice,For though my soule disputes well with my sence,That this may be some error, but no madnesse,Yet doth this accident and flood of Fortune,So farre exceed all instance, all discourse,That I am readie to distrust mine eyes,And wrangle with my reason that perswades meTo any other trust, but that I am mad,Or else the Ladies mad; yet if 'twere so,She could not sway her house, command her followers,Take, and giue backe affayres, and their dispatch,With such a smooth, discreet, and stable bearingAs I perceiue she do's: there's something in'tThat is deceiueable. But heere the Lady comes.Enter Oliuia, and Priest.
Ol. Blame not this haste of mine: if you meane wellNow go with me, and with this holy manInto the Chantry by: there before him,And vnderneath that consecrated roofe,Plight me the full assurance of your faith,That my most iealious, and too doubtfull souleMay liue at peace. He shall conceale it,Whiles you are willing it shall come to note,What time we will our celebration keepeAccording to my birth, what do you say?Seb. Ile follow this good man, and go with you,And hauing sworne truth, euer will be true
Ol. Then lead the way good father, & heauens so shine,That they may fairely note this acte of mine.
Exeunt.
Finis Actus Quartus.
Actus Quintus. Scena Prima.
Enter Clowne and Fabian.
Fab. Now as thou lou'st me, let me see his Letter
Clo. Good M[aster]. Fabian, grant me another request
Fab. Any thing
Clo. Do not desire to see this Letter
Fab. This is to giue a dogge, and in recompence desiremy dogge againe.Enter Duke, Viola, Curio, and Lords.
Duke. Belong you to the Lady Oliuia, friends?Clo. I sir, we are some of her trappings
Duke. I know thee well: how doest thou my goodFellow?Clo. Truely sir, the better for my foes, and the worsefor my friends
Du. Iust the contrary: the better for thy friends
Clo. No sir, the worse
Du. How can that be? Clo. Marry sir, they praise me, and make an asse of me, now my foes tell me plainly, I am an Asse: so that by my foes sir, I profit in the knowledge of my selfe, and by my friends I am abused: so that conclusions to be as kisses, if your foure negatiues make your two affirmatiues, why then the worse for my friends, and the better for my foes
Du. Why this is excellent
Clo. By my troth sir, no: though it please you to be one of my friends
Du. Thou shalt not be the worse for me, there's gold
Clo. But that it would be double dealing sir, I would you could make it another
Du. O you giue me ill counsell
Clo. Put your grace in your pocket sir, for this once,and let your flesh and blood obey it
Du. Well, I will be so much a sinner to be a doubledealer: there's another
Clo. Primo, secundo, tertio, is a good play, and the olde saying is, the third payes for all: the triplex sir, is a good tripping measure, or the belles of S[aint]. Bennet sir, may put you in minde, one, two, three
Du. You can foole no more money out of mee at this throw: if you will let your Lady know I am here to speak with her, and bring her along with you, it may awake my bounty further
Clo. Marry sir, lullaby to your bountie till I come agen. I go sir, but I would not haue you to thinke, that my desire of hauing is the sinne of couetousnesse: but as you say sir, let your bounty take a nappe, I will awake it anon.
Exit
Enter Anthonio and Officers.
Vio. Here comes the man sir, that did rescue mee
Du. That face of his I do remember well,Yet when I saw it last, it was besmear'dAs blacke as Vulcan, in the smoake of warre:A bawbling Vessell was he Captaine of,For shallow draught and bulke vnprizable,With which such scathfull grapple did he make,With the most noble bottome of our Fleete,That very enuy, and the tongue of losseCride fame and honor on him: What's the matter?1.Offi. Orsino, this is that AnthonioThat tooke the Phoenix, and her fraught from Candy,And this is he that did the Tiger boord,When your yong Nephew Titus lost his legge;Heere in the streets, desperate of shame and state,In priuate brabble did we apprehend him
Vio. He did me kindnesse sir, drew on my side,But in conclusion put strange speech vpon me,I know not what 'twas, but distraction
Du. Notable Pyrate, thou salt-water Theefe,What foolish boldnesse brought thee to their mercies,Whom thou in termes so bloudie, and so deereHast made thine enemies?Ant. Orsino: Noble sir,Be pleas'd that I shake off these names you giue mee:Anthonio neuer yet was Theefe, or Pyrate,Though I confesse, on base and ground enoughOrsino's enemie. A witchcraft drew me hither:That most ingratefull boy there by your side,From the rude seas enrag'd and foamy mouthDid I redeeme: a wracke past hope he was:His life I gaue him, and did thereto addeMy loue without retention, or restraint,All his in dedication. For his sake,Did I expose my selfe (pure for his loue)Into the danger of this aduerse Towne,Drew to defend him, when he was beset:Where being apprehended, his false cunning(Not meaning to partake with me in danger)Taught him to face me out of his acquaintance,And grew a twentie yeeres remoued thingWhile one would winke: denide me mine owne purse,Which I had recommended to his vse,Not halfe an houre before
Vio. How can this be?Du. When came he to this Towne?Ant. To day my Lord: and for three months before,No intrim, not a minutes vacancie,Both day and night did we keepe companie.Enter Oliuia and attendants.
Du. Heere comes the Countesse, now heauen walkeson earth:But for thee fellow, fellow thy words are madnesse,Three monthes this youth hath tended vpon mee,But more of that anon. Take him aside
Ol. What would my Lord, but that he may not haue,Wherein Oliuia may seeme seruiceable?Cesario, you do not keepe promise with me
Vio. Madam:Du. Gracious Oliuia
Ol. What do you say Cesario? Good my Lord
Vio. My Lord would speake, my dutie hushes me
Ol. If it be ought to the old tune my Lord,It is as fat and fulsome to mine eareAs howling after Musicke
Du. Still so cruell?Ol. Still so constant Lord
Du. What to peruersenesse? you vnciuill LadieTo whose ingrate, and vnauspicious AltarsMy soule the faithfull'st offrings haue breath'd outThat ere deuotion tender'd. What shall I do?Ol. Euen what it please my Lord, that shal becom himDu. Why should I not, (had I the heart to do it)Like to th' Egyptian theefe, at point of deathKill what I loue: (a sauage iealousie,That sometime sauours nobly) but heare me this:Since you to non-regardance cast my faith,And that I partly know the instrumentThat screwes me from my true place in your fauour:Liue you the Marble-brested Tirant still.But this your Minion, whom I know you loue,And whom, by heauen I sweare, I tender deerely,Him will I teare out of that cruell eye,Where he sits crowned in his masters spight.Come boy with me, my thoughts are ripe in mischiefe:Ile sacrifice the Lambe that I do loue,To spight a Rauens heart within a Doue
Vio. And I most iocund, apt, and willinglie,To do you rest, a thousand deaths would dye
Ol. Where goes Cesario?Vio. After him I loue,More then I loue these eyes, more then my life,More by all mores, then ere I shall loue wife.If I do feigne, you witnesses abouePunish my life, for tainting of my loue
Ol. Aye me detested, how am I beguil'd?Vio. Who does beguile you? who does do you wrong?Ol. Hast thou forgot thy selfe? Is it so long?Call forth the holy Father
Du. Come, away
Ol. Whether my Lord? Cesario, Husband, stay
Du. Husband?Ol. I Husband. Can he that deny?Du. Her husband, sirrah?Vio. No my Lord, not I
Ol. Alas, it is the basenesse of thy feare,That makes thee strangle thy propriety:Feare not Cesario, take thy fortunes vp,Be that thou know'st thou art, and then thou artAs great as that thou fear'st.Enter Priest.
O welcome Father:Father, I charge thee by thy reuerenceHeere to vnfold, though lately we intendedTo keepe in darkenesse, what occasion nowReueales before 'tis ripe: what thou dost knowHath newly past, betweene this youth, and me
Priest. A Contract of eternall bond of loue,Confirm'd by mutuall ioynder of your hands,Attested by the holy close of lippes,Strengthned by enterchangement of your rings,And all the Ceremonie of this compactSeal'd in my function, by my testimony:Since when, my watch hath told me, toward my graueI haue trauail'd but two houres
Du. O thou dissembling Cub: what wilt thou beWhen time hath sow'd a grizzle on thy case?Or will not else thy craft so quickely grow,That thine owne trip shall be thine ouerthrow:Farewell, and take her, but direct thy feete,Where thou, and I (henceforth) may neuer meet
Vio. My Lord, I do protest
Ol. O do not sweare,Hold little faith, though thou hast too much feare.Enter Sir Andrew.
And. For the loue of God a Surgeon, send one presentlyto sir Toby
Ol. What's the matter?And. H'as broke my head acrosse, and has giuen SirToby a bloody Coxcombe too: for the loue of God yourhelpe, I had rather then forty pound I were at home
Ol. Who has done this sir Andrew?And. The Counts Gentleman, one Cesario: we tookehim for a Coward, but hee's the verie diuell, incardinate
Du. My Gentleman Cesario?And. Odd's lifelings heere he is: you broke my headfor nothing, and that that I did, I was set on to do't by sirToby
Vio. Why do you speake to me, I neuer hurt you:You drew your sword vpon me without cause,But I bespake you faire, and hurt you not.Enter Toby and Clowne.
And. If a bloody coxcombe be a hurt, you haue hurt me: I thinke you set nothing by a bloody Coxecombe. Heere comes sir Toby halting, you shall heare more: but if he had not beene in drinke, hee would haue tickel'd you other gates then he did
Du. How now Gentleman? how ist with you?To. That's all one, has hurt me, and there's th' end on't:Sot, didst see Dicke Surgeon, sot?Clo. O he's drunke sir Toby an houre agone: his eyeswere set at eight i'th morning
To. Then he's a Rogue, and a passy measures pauyn: Ihate a drunken rogue
Ol. Away with him? Who hath made this hauockewith them?And. Ile helpe you sir Toby, because we'll be drest together
To. Will you helpe an Asse-head, and a coxcombe, &a knaue: a thin fac'd knaue, a gull?Ol. Get him to bed, and let his hurt be look'd too.Enter Sebastian.
Seb. I am sorry Madam I haue hurt your kinsman:But had it beene the brother of my blood,I must haue done no lesse with wit and safety.You throw a strange regard vpon me, and by thatI do perceiue it hath offended you:Pardon me (sweet one) euen for the vowesWe made each other, but so late ago
Du. One face, one voice, one habit, and two persons,A naturall Perspectiue, that is, and is not
Seb. Anthonio: O my deere Anthonio,How haue the houres rack'd, and tortur'd me,Since I haue lost thee?Ant. Sebastian are you?Seb. Fear'st thou that Anthonio?Ant. How haue you made diuision of your selfe,An apple cleft in two, is not more twinThen these two creatures. Which is Sebastian?Ol. Most wonderfull
Seb. Do I stand there? I neuer had a brother:Nor can there be that Deity in my natureOf heere, and euery where. I had a sister,Whom the blinde waues and surges haue deuour'd:Of charity, what kinne are you to me?What Countreyman? What name? What Parentage?Vio. Of Messaline: Sebastian was my Father,Such a Sebastian was my brother too:So went he suited to his watery tombe:If spirits can assume both forme and suite,You come to fright vs
Seb. A spirit I am indeed,But am in that dimension grossely clad,Which from the wombe I did participate.Were you a woman, as the rest goes euen,I should my teares let fall vpon your cheeke,And say, thrice welcome drowned Viola
Vio. My father had a moale vpon his brow
Seb. And so had mine
Vio. And dide that day when Viola from her birthHad numbred thirteene yeares
Seb. O that record is liuely in my soule,He finished indeed his mortall acteThat day that made my sister thirteene yeares
Vio. If nothing lets to make vs happie both,But this my masculine vsurp'd attyre:Do not embrace me, till each circumstance,Of place, time, fortune, do cohere and iumpeThat I am Viola, which to confirme,Ile bring you to a Captaine in this Towne,Where lye my maiden weeds: by whose gentle helpe,I was preseru'd to serue this Noble Count:All the occurrence of my fortune sinceHath beene betweene this Lady, and this Lord
Seb. So comes it Lady, you haue beene mistooke:But Nature to her bias drew in that.You would haue bin contracted to a Maid,Nor are you therein (by my life) deceiu'd,You are betroth'd both to a maid and man
Du. Be not amaz'd, right noble is his blood:If this be so, as yet the glasse seemes true,I shall haue share in this most happy wracke,Boy, thou hast saide to me a thousand times,Thou neuer should'st loue woman like to me
Vio. And all those sayings, will I ouer sweare,And all those swearings keepe as true in soule,As doth that Orbed Continent, the fire,That seuers day from night
Du. Giue me thy hand,And let me see thee in thy womans weedes
Vio. The Captaine that did bring me first on shoreHath my Maides garments: he vpon some ActionIs now in durance, at Maluolio's suite,a Gentleman, and follower of my Ladies
Ol. He shall inlarge him: fetch Maluolio hither,And yet alas, now I remember me,They say poore Gentleman, he's much distract.Enter Clowne with a Letter, and Fabian.
A most extracting frensie of mine owne From my remembrance, clearly banisht his. How does he sirrah? Cl. Truely Madam, he holds Belzebub at the staues end as well as a man in his case may do: has heere writ a letter to you, I should haue giuen't you to day morning. But as a madmans Epistles are no Gospels, so it skilles not much when they are deliuer'd
Ol. Open't, and read it
Clo. Looke then to be well edified, when the Fooledeliuers the Madman. By the Lord Madam
Ol. How now, art thou mad?Clo. No Madam, I do but reade madnesse: and yourLadyship will haue it as it ought to bee, you must allowVox
Ol. Prethee reade i'thy right wits
Clo. So I do Madona: but to reade his right wits, is to reade thus: therefore, perpend my Princesse, and giue eare
Ol. Read it you, sirrah
Fab. Reads. By the Lord Madam, you wrong me, and the world shall know it: Though you haue put mee into darkenesse, and giuen your drunken Cosine rule ouer me, yet haue I the benefit of my senses as well as your Ladieship. I haue your owne letter, that induced mee to the semblance I put on; with the which I doubt not, but to do my selfe much right, or you much shame: thinke of me as you please. I leaue my duty a little vnthought of, and speake out of my iniury. The madly vs'd Maluolio
Ol. Did he write this?Clo. I Madame
Du. This sauours not much of distraction
Ol. See him deliuer'd Fabian, bring him hither:My Lord, so please you, these things further thought on,To thinke me as well a sister, as a wife,One day shall crowne th' alliance on't, so please you,Heere at my house, and at my proper cost
Du. Madam, I am most apt t' embrace your offer:Your Master quits you: and for your seruice done him,So much against the mettle of your sex,So farre beneath your soft and tender breeding,And since you call'd me Master, for so long:Heere is my hand, you shall from this time beeYour Masters Mistris
Ol. A sister, you are she.Enter Maluolio.
Du. Is this the Madman?Ol. I my Lord, this same: How now Maluolio?Mal. Madam, you haue done me wrong,Notorious wrong
Ol. Haue I Maluolio? No
Mal. Lady you haue, pray you peruse that Letter.You must not now denie it is your hand,Write from it if you can, in hand, or phrase,Or say, tis not your seale, not your inuention:You can say none of this. Well, grant it then,And tell me in the modestie of honor,Why you haue giuen me such cleare lights of fauour,Bad me come smiling, and crosse-garter'd to you,To put on yellow stockings, and to frowneVpon sir Toby, and the lighter people:And acting this in an obedient hope,Why haue you suffer'd me to be imprison'd,Kept in a darke house, visited by the Priest,And made the most notorious gecke and gull,That ere inuention plaid on? Tell me why?Ol. Alas Maluolio, this is not my writing,Though I confesse much like the Charracter:But out of question, tis Marias hand.And now I do bethinke me, it was sheeFirst told me thou wast mad; then cam'st in smiling,And in such formes, which heere were presuppos'dVpon thee in the Letter: prethee be content,This practice hath most shrewdly past vpon thee:But when we know the grounds, and authors of it,Thou shalt be both the Plaintiffe and the IudgeOf thine owne cause
Fab. Good Madam heare me speake,And let no quarrell, nor no braule to come,Taint the condition of this present houre,Which I haue wondred at. In hope it shall not,Most freely I confesse my selfe, and TobySet this deuice against Maluolio heere,Vpon some stubborne and vncourteous partsWe had conceiu'd against him. Maria writThe Letter, at sir Tobyes great importance,In recompence whereof, he hath married her:How with a sportfull malice it was follow'd,May rather plucke on laughter then reuenge,If that the iniuries be iustly weigh'd,That haue on both sides past
Ol. Alas poore Foole, how haue they baffel'd thee? Clo. Why some are borne great, some atchieue greatnesse, and some haue greatnesse throwne vpon them. I was one sir, in this Enterlude, one sir Topas sir, but that's all one: By the Lord Foole, I am not mad: but do you remember, Madam, why laugh you at such a barren rascall, and you smile not he's gag'd: and thus the whirlegigge of time, brings in his reuenges
Mal. Ile be reueng'd on the whole packe of you?Ol. He hath bene most notoriously abus'd
Du. Pursue him, and entreate him to a peace:He hath not told vs of the Captaine yet,When that is knowne, and golden time conuentsA solemne Combination shall be madeOf our deere soules. Meane time sweet sister,We will not part from hence. Cesario come(For so you shall be while you are a man:)But when in other habites you are seene,Orsino's Mistris, and his fancies Queene.
Exeunt.
Clowne sings . When that I was and a little tine boy, with hey, ho, the winde and the raine: A foolish thing was but a toy, for the raine it raineth euery day. But when I came to mans estate, with hey ho, &c. Gainst Knaues and Theeues men shut their gate, for the raine, &c. But when I came alas to wiue, with hey ho, &c. By swaggering could I neuer thriue, for the raine, &c. But when I came vnto my beds, with hey ho, &c. With tospottes still had drunken heades, for the raine, &c. A great while ago the world begon, hey ho, &c. But that's all one, our Play is done, and wee'l striue to please you euery day.
FINIS. Twelfe Night, Or what you will.
The Winters Tale
Actus Primus. Scoena Prima.
Enter Camillo and Archidamus.
Arch. If you shall chance (Camillo) to visit Bohemia, on the like occasion whereon my seruices are now on-foot, you shall see (as I haue said) great difference betwixt our Bohemia, and your Sicilia
Cam. I thinke, this comming Summer, the King of Sicilia meanes to pay Bohemia the Visitation, which hee iustly owes him
Arch. Wherein our Entertainment shall shame vs: we will be iustified in our Loues: for indeed- Cam. 'Beseech you- Arch. Verely I speake it in the freedome of my knowledge: we cannot with such magnificence- in so rare- I know not what to say- Wee will giue you sleepie Drinkes, that your Sences (vn-intelligent of our insufficience) may, though they cannot prayse vs, as little accuse vs
Cam. You pay a great deale to deare, for what's giuenfreely
Arch. 'Beleeue me, I speake as my vnderstanding instructsme, and as mine honestie puts it to vtterance
Cam. Sicilia cannot shew himselfe ouer-kind to Bohemia: They were trayn'd together in their Childhoods; and there rooted betwixt them then such an affection, which cannot chuse but braunch now. Since their more mature Dignities, and Royall Necessities, made seperation of their Societie, their Encounters (though not Personall) hath been Royally attornyed with enter-change of Gifts, Letters, louing Embassies, that they haue seem'd to be together, though absent: shooke hands, as ouer a Vast; and embrac'd as it were from the ends of opposed Winds. The Heauens continue their Loues
Arch. I thinke there is not in the World, either Malice or Matter, to alter it. You haue an vnspeakable comfort of your young Prince Mamillius: it is a Gentleman of the greatest Promise, that euer came into my Note
Cam. I very well agree with you, in the hopes of him: it is a gallant Child; one, that (indeed) Physicks the Subiect, makes old hearts fresh: they that went on Crutches ere he was borne, desire yet their life, to see him a Man
Arch. Would they else be content to die?Cam. Yes; if there were no other excuse, why they shoulddesire to liue
Arch. If the King had no Sonne, they would desire toliue on Crutches till he had one.
Exeunt.
Scoena Secunda.
Enter Leontes, Hermione, Mamillius, Polixenes, Camillo.
Pol. Nine Changes of the Watry-Starre hath beenThe Shepheards Note, since we haue left our ThroneWithout a Burthen: Time as long againeWould be fill'd vp (my Brother) with our Thanks,And yet we should, for perpetuitie,Goe hence in debt: And therefore, like a Cypher(Yet standing in rich place) I multiplyWith one we thanke you, many thousands moe,That goe before it
Leo. Stay your Thanks a while,And pay them when you part
Pol. Sir, that's to morrow:I am question'd by my feares, of what may chance,Or breed vpon our absence, that may blowNo sneaping Winds at home, to make vs say,This is put forth too truly: besides, I haue stay'dTo tyre your Royaltie
Leo. We are tougher (Brother)Then you can put vs to't
Pol. No longer stay
Leo. One Seue' night longer
Pol. Very sooth, to morrow
Leo. Wee'le part the time betweene's then: and in thatIle no gaine-saying
Pol. Presse me not ('beseech you) so:There is no Tongue that moues; none, none i'th' WorldSo soone as yours, could win me: so it should now,Were there necessitie in your request, although'Twere needfull I deny'd it. My AffairesDoe euen drag me home-ward: which to hinder,Were (in your Loue) a Whip to me; my stay,To you a Charge, and Trouble: to saue both,Farewell (our Brother.)Leo. Tongue-ty'd our Queene? speake you
Her. I had thought (Sir) to haue held my peace, vntillYou had drawne Oathes from him, not to stay: you (Sir)Charge him too coldly. Tell him, you are sureAll in Bohemia's well: this satisfaction,The by-gone-day proclaym'd, say this to him,He's beat from his best ward
Leo. Well said, Hermione
Her. To tell, he longs to see his Sonne, were strong:But let him say so then, and let him goe;But let him sweare so, and he shall not stay,Wee'l thwack him hence with Distaffes.Yet of your Royall presence, Ile aduentureThe borrow of a Weeke. When at BohemiaYou take my Lord, Ile giue him my Commission,To let him there a Moneth, behind the GestPrefix'd for's parting: yet (good-deed) Leontes,I loue thee not a Iarre o'th' Clock, behindWhat Lady she her Lord. You'le stay?Pol. No, Madame
Her. Nay, but you will?Pol. I may not verely
Her. Verely?You put me off with limber Vowes: but I,Though you would seek t' vnsphere the Stars with Oaths,Should yet say, Sir, no going: VerelyYou shall not goe; a Ladyes Verely 'isAs potent as a Lords. Will you goe yet?Force me to keepe you as a Prisoner,Not like a Guest: so you shall pay your FeesWhen you depart, and saue your Thanks. How say you?My Prisoner? or my Guest? by your dread Verely,One of them you shall be
Pol. Your Guest then, Madame:To be your Prisoner, should import offending;Which is for me, lesse easie to commit,Then you to punish
Her. Not your Gaoler then,But your kind Hostesse. Come, Ile question youOf my Lords Tricks, and yours, when you were Boyes:You were pretty Lordings then?Pol. We were (faire Queene)Two Lads, that thought there was no more behind,But such a day to morrow, as to day,And to be Boy eternall
Her. Was not my LordThe veryer Wag o'th' two?Pol. We were as twyn'd Lambs, that did frisk i'th' Sun,And bleat the one at th' other: what we chang'd,Was Innocence, for Innocence: we knew notThe Doctrine of ill-doing, nor dream'dThat any did: Had we pursu'd that life,And our weake Spirits ne're been higher rear'dWith stronger blood, we should haue answer'd HeauenBoldly, not guilty; the Imposition clear'd,Hereditarie ours