Clo. No pains, sir; I take pleasure in singing, sir. Clo. Truly, sir, and pleasure will be paid, one time or another. Duke. I give thee now leave to leave me.' 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. Get thee to yon' same sovereign cruelty : The parts that fortune hath bestow'd upon her, Vio. Sooth, but you must. Say, that some lady, as, perhaps, there is, Can bide the beating of so strong a passion I give thee now leave to leave me.] The original reading is, Give me now leave to leave thee;-in which there are two errors of the press-the omission of the preposition I, and a transposition of me and thee. According to the old reading, the Duke asks permission of the Clown to depart, instead of giving him permission to go; which is not only contrary to the rank and situation of the characters, but to the circumstances which immediately follow. pranks her in,] i. e. Dresses her in. That suffer surfeit, cloyment, and revolt; And can digest as much; make no compare And that I owe Olivia. Vio. Ay, but I know, Duke. What dost thou know? Vio. Too well what love women to men may owe: In faith, they are as true of heart as we. Duke. And what's her history? Vio. A blank, my lord: She never told her love, Feed on her damask cheek: she pin'd in thought; Duke. But died thy sister of her love, my boy? Duke. SCENE V. Olivia's Garden. [Exeunt. 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 niggardly 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 metal of India ?h Mar. Get ye all three into the box-tree: Malvolio's coming down this walk; he has been yonder i'the sun, practising behaviour to his own shadow, this half hour: observe him, for the love of mockery; for, I know, this letter will make a contemplative idiot of him. Close, in the name of jesting! [The men hide themselves.] Lie thou there; [throws down a letter.] for here comes the trout that must be caught with tickling. [Exit MARIA. Enter MALVOLIO. Mal. "Tis but fortune; all is fortune. Maria once told me, she did affect me: and I have heard herself come thus near, that, should she fancy, it should be one of my complexion. Besides, she uses me with a more exalted respect, than any one else that follows her. What should I think on't? Sir To. Here's an over-weening rogue! Fab. O, peace! Contemplation makes a rare turkey-cock of him; how he jets under his advanced plumes! Sir And. 'Slight, I could so beat the rogue : Sir To.. Peace, I say. Mal. To be count Malvolio. Sir To. Ah, rogue! Sir And. Pistol him, pistol him. Sir To. Peace, peace! metal of India?] My precious girl-my girl of gold.-STEEVENS. i -jets-] Struts. Mal. There is example for't; the lady of the Strachyk married the yeoman of the wardrobe. Sir And. Fie on him, Jezebel! Fab. O, peace! now he'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 ! Fab. O, peace, peace. 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,-to 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. I 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'the 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. You must amend your drunkenness. Sir To. Out, scab! -Strachy-] Of this word no probable guess has been made, except that of Mr. R. P. Knight, who has conjectured it to be a corruption of Stratico, which is given by Menage as the regular title of the Governor of Messina.-If Mr. Knight is right, which is most probable,-the lady of the Strachy means the governor's lady.-NARES's Glossary. my state,-] i. e. My throne. Fab. Nay, patience, or we break the sinews of our plot. Mal. Besides, you waste the treasure of your time with a foolish knight; Sir And. That's me, I warrant you. Mal. One Sir Andrew: Sir And. I knew, 'twas I; for many do call me fool. Mal. What employment have we here? [Taking up the letter. Fab. Now is the woodcock near the gin. Sir To. O, peace! and the spirit of humours intimate reading aloud to him! Mal. By my life, this 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. But who? Lips do not move, No man must know. No man must know.-What follows? the numbers altered! No man must know:-If this should be thee, Malvolio? Sir To. Marry, hang thee, brock !m Mal. I may command, where I adore: But silence, like a Lucrece knife, With bloodless stroke my heart doth gore; Fab. A fustian riddle! Sir To. Excellent wench, say I. Mal. M, O, A, I, doth sway my life.-Nay, but first, let me see,-let me see,-let me see. Fab. What a dish of poison has she dressed him! Sir To. And with what wing the stannyel checks" at it! m brock!] i. e. Badger; a term of contempt. stannyel] The stannyel is the common stone-hawk, which inhabits old buildings and rocks.-STEEVENS.-Checks-to check, in falconry, is to forsake the natural flight, and follow rooks, &c. when they come in view. |