Ile stay a moneth longer. I am a fellow o'th
strangest minde i'th world: I delight in Maskes and Reuels
Art thou good at these kicke-chawses Knight?
As any man in Illyria, whatsoeuer he be, vnder
the degree of my betters, & yet I will not compare with
an old man.
What is thy excellence in a galliard, knight?
Faith, I can cut a caper.
And I can cut the Mutton too't.
And I thinke I haue the backe-tricke, simply as
strong as any man in Illyria.
Wherefore are these things hid? Wherefore haue
these gifts a Curtaine before 'em? Are they like to take
dust, like mistris Mals picture? Why dost thou not goe
to Church in a Galliard, and come home in a Carranto?
My verie walke should be a Iigge: I would not so much
as make water but in a Sinke-a-pace: What dooest thou
meane? Is it a world to hide vertues in? I did thinke by
the excellent constitution of thy legge, it was form'd vnder
the starre of a Galliard.
I, 'tis strong, and it does indifferent well in a
dam'd colour'd stocke. Shall we sit about some Reuels?
What shall we do else: were we not borne vnder
Taurus? That sides and heart.
No sir, it is leggs and thighes: let me see thee caper.
Ha, higher: ha, ha, excellent.
Enter Valentine, and Viola in mans attire.
If the Duke continue these fauours towards you
Cesario, you are like to be much aduanc'd, he hath known
you but three dayes, and already you are no stranger.
You either feare his humour, or my negligence,
that you call in question the continuance of his loue. Is
he inconstant sir, in his fauours.
No beleeue me.
Enter Duke, Curio, and Attendants.
I thanke you: heere comes the Count.
Who saw Cesario hoa?
On your attendance my Lord heere.
Stand you a-while aloofe. Cesario,
Thou knowst no lesse, but all: I haue vnclasp'd
To thee the booke euen of my secret soule.
Therefore good youth, addresse thy gate vnto her,
Be not deni'de accesse, stand at her doores,
And tell them, there thy fixed foot shall grow
Till thou haue audience.
Sure my Noble Lord,
If she be so abandon'd to her sorrow
As it is spoke, she neuer will admit me.
Be clamorous, and leape all ciuill bounds,
Rather then make vnprofited returne,
Say I do speake with her (my Lord) what then?
O then, vnfold the passion of my loue,
Surprize her with discourse of my deere faith;
It shall become thee well to act my woes:
She will attend it better in thy youth,
Then in a Nuntio's of more graue aspect.
I thinke not so, my Lord.
Deere Lad, beleeue it;
For they shall yet belye thy happy yeeres,
That say thou art a man: Dianas lip
Is not more smooth, and rubious: thy small pipe
Is as the maidens organ, shrill, and sound,
And all is semblatiue a womans part.
I know thy constellation is right apt
For this affayre: some foure or fiue attend him,
All if you will: for I my selfe am best
When least in companie: prosper well in this,
And thou shalt liue as freely as thy Lord,
To call his fortunes thine.
Ile do my best
To woe your Lady: yet a barrefull strife,
Who ere I woe, my selfe would be his wife.
Enter Maria, and Clowne.
Nay, either tell me where thou hast bin, or I will
not open my lippes so wide as a brissle may enter, in way
of thy excuse: my Lady will hang thee for thy absence.
Let her hang me: hee that is well hang'de in this
world, needs to feare no colours.
Make that good.
He shall see none to feare.
A good lenton answer: I can tell thee where y
saying was borne, of I feare no colours.
Where good mistris Mary?
In the warrs, & that may you be bolde to say in
Well, God giue them wisedome that haue it: &
those that are fooles, let them vse their talents.
Yet you will be hang'd for being so long absent,
or to be turn'd away: is not that as good as a hanging to
Many a good hanging, preuents a bad marriage:
and for turning away, let summer beare it out.
You are resolute then?
Not so neyther, but I am resolu'd on two points
That if one breake, the other will hold: or if both
breake, your gaskins fall.
Apt in good faith, very apt: well go thy way, if
sir Toby would leaue drinking, thou wert as witty a piece
of Eues flesh, as any in Illyria.
Peace you rogue, no more o'that: here comes my
Lady: make your excuse wisely, you were best.
Enter Lady Oliuia, with Maluolio.
Wit, and't be thy will, put me into good fooling:
those wits that thinke they haue thee, doe very oft proue
fooles: and I that am sure I lacke thee, may passe for a
wise man. For what saies Quinapalus, Better a witty foole,
then a foolish wit. God blesse thee Lady.
Take the foole away.
Do you not heare fellowes, take away the Ladie.
Go too, y'are a dry foole: Ile no more of you: besides
you grow dis-honest.
Two faults Madona, that drinke & good counsell
wil amend: for giue the dry foole drink, then is the foole
not dry: bid the dishonest man mend himself, if he mend,
he is no longer dishonest; if hee cannot, let the Botcher
mend him: any thing that's mended, is but patch'd: vertu
that transgresses, is but patcht with sinne, and sin that amends,
is but patcht with vertue. If that this simple
Sillogisme will serue, so: if it will not, what remedy?