Seb. If you will not undo what you have done, that is, kill him whom you have recovered, desire it not. Fare ye well at once: my bosom is full of kindness; and I am yet so near the manners of my mother, that upon the least occasion more, mine eyes will tell tales of me. I am bound to the count Orsino's court: farewell. [Exit. Ant. The gentleness of all the gods go with thee!

I have many enemies in Orsino's court,
Else would I very shortly see thee there.

But, come what may, I do adore thee so,

That danger shall seem sport, and I will go. [Exit.

SCENE II.

A street.

Enter VIOLA, MALVOLIO following.

Mal. Were not you even now with the countess Olivia?

Vio. Even now, sir; on a moderate pace I have since arrived but hither.

Mal. She returns this ring to you, sir: you might have saved me my pains, to have taken it away yourself. She adds moreover, that you should put your lord into a desperate assurance she will none of him. And one thing more; that you be never so hardy to come again in his affairs, unless it be to report your lord's taking of this. Receive 1 it so.

1 Understand.

Vio. She took the ring of me! I'll none of it. Mal. Come, sir, you peevishly threw it to her; and her will is, it should be so returned: if it be worth stooping for, there it lies in your eye; if not, be it his that finds it. [Exit. Vio. I left no ring with her. What means this

lady?

Fortune forbid, my outside have not charm'd her!
She made good view of me; indeed, so much,
That, sure, methought, her eyes had lost her
tongue,

For she did speak in starts distractedly.1

She loves me, sure; the cunning of her passion
Invites me in this churlish messenger.

None of my lord's ring! why, he sent her none.
I am the man. If it be so, (as 'tis)

Poor lady, she were better love a dream.
Disguise, I see, thou art a wickedness,
Wherein the pregnant enemy 2 does much.
How easy is it, for the proper-false 3

In women's waxen hearts to set their forms!
Alas, our frailty is the cause, not we;

For, such as we are made of, such we be.

How will this fadge? 4 My master loves her dearly; And I, poor monster, fond as much on him;

And she, mistaken, seems to dote on me.

1 Her fixed and eager view of me perverted the use of her tongue, and made her talk distractedly.

2 The dexterous fiend, or enemy of mankind.

3 The fair deceiver.

4 Suit.

What will become of this? As I am man,
My state is desperate for my master's love;
As I am woman, now alas the day!

What thriftless sighs shall poor Olivia breathe!
O Time, thou must untangle this, not I:
It is too hard a knot for me to untie.

[Exit.

SCENE III.

A room in Olivia's house.

Enter SIR TOBY BELCH and SIR ANDREW AGUE-CHEEK.

Sir To. Approach, sir Andrew: not to be a-bed after midnight, is to be up betimes; and diluculo surgere,1 thou know'st,—

Sir An. Nay, by my troth, I know not: but I know, to be up late, is to be up late.

Sir To. A false conclusion: I hate it as an unfilled can. To be up after midnight, and to go to bed then, is early; so that, to go to bed after midnight, is to go to bed betimes. Do not our lives consist of the four elements?

Sir An. Faith, so they say; but, I think, it rather consists of eating and drinking.

Sir To. Thou art a scholar; let us therefore eat and drink.-Marian, I say!—a stoop of wine!

Enter CLOWN.

Sir An. Here comes the fool, i'faith.

Saluberrimum est, i. e. early rising is most wholesome.

Clown. How now, my hearts? Did you never see the picture of we three ?·1

Sir To. Welcome, ass. Now let's have a catch. Sir An. By my troth, the fool has an excellent breast. I had rather than forty shillings I had such a leg, and so sweet a breath to sing, as the fool has. In sooth, thou wast in very gracious fooling last night, when thou spokest of Pigrogromitus, of the Vapians passing the equinoctial of Queubus; 'twas very good, i' faith. I sent thee sixpence for thy leman; 3 hadst it?

4

Clown. I did impeticos thy gratillity; for Malvolio's nose is no whipstock.5 My lady has a white hand, and the Myrmidons 6 are no bottle-ale houses.

Sir An. Excellent! Why, this is the best fooling, when all is done. Now, a song.

Sir To. Come on; there is sixpence for you : let's have a song.

Sir An. There's a testril 7 of me too: if one knight give a

Clown. Would you have a love-song, or a song of good life? 8

Sir To. A love-song, a love-song.

1 Loggerheads be.

2 Voice. 3 Mistress.

4 Impocket thy gratuity.

5 A whipstock is the handle of a whip, round which a strap of leather is usually twisted, and is sometimes put for the whip itself.

• Myrmidon was a cant term for officers of justice.

7 Sixpence.

6 A song of a moral turn.

Sir An. Ay, ay; I care not for good life.

SONG.

Clown. O mistress mine, where are you roaming?
O, stay and hear; your true love 's coming,
That can sing both high and low :
Trip no farther, pretty sweeting;
Journeys end in lovers' meeting,

Every wise man's son doth know.

Sir An. Excellent good, i' faith!
Sir To. Good, good.

Clown. What is love? 'tis not hereafter;
Present mirth hath present laughter;
What's to come is still unsure:

In delay there lies no plenty;

Then come kiss me, sweet-and-twenty:1
Youth's a stuff will not endure.

Sir An. A mellifluous voice, as I am true knight. Sir To. A contagious breath.

Sir An. Very sweet and contagious, i' faith.

Sir To. To hear by the nose, it is dulcet in contagion. But shall we make the welkin dance indeed ?? Shall we rouse the night-owl in a catch, that will draw three souls out of one weaver? 3 shall we do that?

Probably a phrase of endearment.

2 Drink till the sky seems to turn round.

3 Dr. Warburton conjectures that allusion is here made to the peripatetic philosophy, which supposed man to be endowed with three souls; the vegetative or plastic, the animal, and the rational. Our author represents weavers as much given to harmony in his time.