Sivut kuvina


SCENE I. The Street before Olivia's House.

Enter Clown and FABIAN.

Fab. Now, as thou lovest me, let me see his letter. Clo. Good master Fabian, grant me another request. Fab. Any thing.

Clo. Do not desire to see this letter.

Fab. That is, to give a dog, and, in recompense, desire my dog again.

Enter DUKE, VIOLA, and Attendants.

Duke. Belong you to the lady Olivia, friends? Clo. Ay, sir; we are some of her trappings. Duke. I know thee well: How dost thou, my good fellow?

Clo. Truly, sir, the better for my foes, and the worse for my friends.

Duke. Just the contrary; the better for thy friends. Clo. No, sir, the worse.

Duke. How can that be?

Clo. Marry, sir, they praise me, and make an ass of me; now my foes tell me plainly I am an ass: so that by my foes, sir, I profit in the knowledge of myself; and by my friends I am abused: so that, conclusions to be as kisses, if your four negatives make your two affirmatives1, why, then the worse for my friends, and the better for my foes.

1 So, in Marlowe's Lust's Dominion :

Come let's kisse.

Moor. Away, away.

Queen. No, no, says I; and twice away says stay.

Sir Philip Sidney has enlarged upon the thought in the Sixty-third Stanza of Astrophel and Stella.

Duke. Why, this is excellent.

Clo. By my troth, sir, no; though it please you to be one of my friends.

Duke. 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.

Duke. O, you give me ill counsel.

Clo. Put your grace in your pocket, sir, for this once, and let your flesh and blood obey it.

Duke. Well, I will be so much a sinner to be a double dealer; there's another.

Clo. Primo, secundo, tertio, is a good play; and the old saying is, the third pays for all; the triplex, sir, is a good tripping measure; or the bells of St. Bennet, sir, may put you in mind; One, two, three.

Duke. You can fool no more money out of me 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 bounty, till I come again. I go, sir; but I would not have you to think, that my desire of having is the sin of covetousness; but, as you say, sir, let your bounty take a nap, I will awake it anon. [Exit Clown,

Enter ANTONIO and Officers.

Vio. Here comes the man, sir, that did rescue me,
Duke. That face of his I do remember well;

Yet, when I saw it last, it was besmear'd
As black as Vulcan, in the smoke of war:

A bawbling vessel was he captain of,
For shallow draught, and bulk, unprizable:
With which such scathful grapple did he make
With the most noble bottom of our fleet,

2 Mischievous, destructive.

That very envy, and the tongue of loss,

Cry'd fame and honour on him.-What's the matter? 1 Off. Orsino, this is that Antonio

That took the Phoenix and her fraught3, from Candy:
And this is he that did the Tiger board,

When your young nephew Titus lost his leg:
Here in the streets, desperate of shame and state1,
In private brabble did we apprehend him.


Vio. He did me kindness, sir; drew on my But, in conclusion, put strange speech upon me, I know not what 'twas, but distraction.

Duke. Notable pirate! thou salt-water thief! What foolish boldness brought thee to their mercies, Whom thou, in terms so bloody, and so dear5, Hast made thine enemies?

3 Freight.

4 Inattentive to his character or condition, like a desperate man. 5 Tooke has so admirably accounted for the application of the epithet dear by our ancient writers to any object which excites a sensation of hurt, pain, and consequently of anxiety, solicitude, care, earnestness, that I shall extract it as the best comment upon the apparently opposite uses of the word in our great poet. Dearth is the third person singular of the English (from the Anglo Saxon verb Denian, nocere, lædere), to dere. It means some or any season, weather, or other cause, which dereth, i. e. maketh dear, hurteth, or doth mischief.-The English verb to dere was formerly in common use.' He then produces about twenty examples, the last from Hamlet :

'Would I had met my dearest foe in Heaven

Ere I had seen that day.'

Tooke continues- Johnson and Malone, who trusted to their Latin to explain his (Shakspeare's) English, for deer and deerest would have us read dire and direst; not knowing that Dene and Deɲiend meant hurt and hurting, mischief and mischievous; and that their Latin dirus is from our Anglo-Saxon Dene, which they would expunge.' EIIEA IITEPOENTA, Vol. ii. p. 409. A most pertinent illustration of Tooke's etymology has occurred to me in a MS poem by Richard Rolle the Hermit of Hampole: 'Bot flatering lele and loselry,

Is grete chepe in thair courtes namly,

The most derthe of any,

that is

Aboute tham there, is sothfastnes.'-Spec. Vita.

Orsino, noble sir,

Be pleas'd that I shake off these names you give me ;
Antonio never yet was thief, or pirate,

Though, I confess, on base and ground enough,
Orsino's enemy. A witchcraft drew me hither:
That most ingrateful boy there, by your side,
From the rude sea's enrag'd and foamy mouth
Did I redeem: a wreck past hope he was:
His life I gave him, and did thereto add
My love, without retention or restraint,
All his in dedication: for his sake,
Did I expose myself, pure for his love,
Into the danger of this adverse town;
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 twenty-years-removed thing,

While one would wink; denied me mine own purse,
Which I had recommended to his use

Not half an hour before.


How can this be?

Duke. When came he to this town?

Ant. To-day, my lord; and for three months before (No interim, not a minute's vacancy),,

Both day and night did we keep company.

Enter OLIVIA and Attendants.

Duke. Here comes the countess; now heaven
walks on earth.-

But for thee, fellow, fellow, thy words are madness:
Three months this youth hath tended upon me;
But more of that anon.- -Take him aside.
Oli. What would my lord, but that he




Wherein Olivia may seem serviceable?—
Cesario, you do not keep promise with me.

Vio. Madam?

Duke. Gracious Olivia,

Oli. What do you say, Cesario?


-Good my

Vio. My lord would speak, my duty hushes me. Oli. If it be ought to the old tune, my lord,

It is as fat and fulsome to mine ear,

As howling after musick.


Oli. Still so constant, lord.

Still so cruel?

Duke. What! to perverseness? you uncivil lady, To whose ingrate and unauspicious altars

My soul the faithfull'st offerings hath breath'd out,
That e'er devotion tender'd! What shall I do?

Oli. Even what it please my lord, that shall become him.

Duke. Why should I not, had I the heart to do it, Like to the Egyptian thief?, at point of death, Kill what I love; a savage jealousy,

6 Dull, gross.

7 This EGYPTIAN THIEF was Thyamis. The story is related in the Aethiopics of Heliodorus. He was the chief of a band of robbers. Theogenes and Chariclea falling into their hands, Thyamis falls in love with Chariclea, and would have married her. But, being attacked by a stronger band of robbers, he was in such fear for his mistress that he causes her to be shut into a cave with his treasure. It was customary with those barbarians, when they despaired of their own safety, first to make away with those whom they held most dear, and desired for companions in the next life. Thyamis therefore benetted round with enemies, raging with love, jealousy, and anger, went to his cave, and calling aloud in the Egyptian tongue, so soon as he heard himself answered towards the cave's mouth by a Grecian, making to the person by the direction of her voice, he caught her by the hair with his left hand, and (supposing her to be Chariclea) with his right hand plunged his sword into her breast.

[ocr errors]
« EdellinenJatka »