Chapter 57

Wid. I am her Mother sir, whose age and honour Both suffer vnder this complaint we bring, And both shall cease, without your remedie

King. Come hether Count, do you know these Women? Ber. My Lord, I neither can nor will denie, But that I know them, do they charge me further? Dia. Why do you looke so strange vpon your wife? Ber. She's none of mine my Lord

Dia. If you shall marrie You giue away this hand, and that is mine, You giue away heauens vowes, and those are mine: You giue away my selfe, which is knowne mine: For I by vow am so embodied yours, That she which marries you, must marrie me, Either both or none

Laf. Your reputation comes too short for my daughter, you are no husband for her

Ber. My Lord, this is a fond and desp'rate creature, Whom sometime I haue laugh'd with: Let your highnes Lay a more noble thought vpon mine honour, Then for to thinke that I would sinke it heere

Kin. Sir for my thoughts, you haue them il to friend, Till your deeds gaine them fairer: proue your honor, Then in my thought it lies

Dian. Good my Lord, Aske him vpon his oath, if hee do's thinke He had not my virginity

Kin. What saist thou to her? Ber. She's impudent my Lord, And was a common gamester to the Campe

Dia. He do's me wrong my Lord: If I were so, He might haue bought me at a common price. Do not beleeue him. O behold this Ring, Whose high respect and rich validitie Did lacke a Paralell: yet for all that He gaue it to a Commoner a'th Campe If I be one

Coun. He blushes, and 'tis hit: Of sixe preceding Ancestors that Iemme Confer'd by testament to'th sequent issue Hath it beene owed and worne. This is his wife, That Ring's a thousand proofes

King. Me thought you saide You saw one heere in Court could witnesse it

Dia. I did my Lord, but loath am to produce So bad an instrument, his names Parrolles

Laf. I saw the man to day, if man he bee

Kin. Finde him, and bring him hether

Ros. What of him: He's quoted for a most perfidious slaue With all the spots a'th world, taxt and debosh'd, Whose nature sickens: but to speake a truth, Am I, or that or this for what he'l vtter, That will speake any thing

Kin. She hath that Ring of yours

Ros. I thinke she has; certaine it is I lyk'd her, And boorded her i'th wanton way of youth: She knew her distance, and did angle for mee, Madding my eagernesse with her restraint, As all impediments in fancies course Are motiues of more fancie, and in fine, Her insuite comming with her moderne grace, Subdu'd me to her rate, she got the Ring, And I had that which any inferiour might At Market price haue bought

Dia. I must be patient: You that haue turn'd off a first so noble wife, May iustly dyet me. I pray you yet, (Since you lacke vertue, I will loose a husband) Send for your Ring, I will returne it home, And giue me mine againe

Ros. I haue it not

Kin. What Ring was yours I pray you? Dian. Sir much like the same vpon your finger

Kin. Know you this Ring, this Ring was his of late

Dia. And this was it I gaue him being a bed

Kin. The story then goes false, you threw it him Out of a Casement

Dia. I haue spoke the truth. Enter Parolles.

Ros. My Lord, I do confesse the ring was hers

Kin. You boggle shrewdly, euery feather starts you: Is this the man you speake of? Dia. I, my Lord

Kin. Tell me sirrah, but tell me true I charge you, Not fearing the displeasure of your master: Which on your iust proceeding, Ile keepe off, By him and by this woman heere, what know you? Par. So please your Maiesty, my master hath bin an honourable Gentleman. Trickes hee hath had in him, which Gentlemen haue

Kin. Come, come, to'th' purpose: Did hee loue this woman? Par. Faith sir he did loue her, but how

Kin. How I pray you? Par. He did loue her sir, as a Gent. loues a Woman

Kin. How is that? Par. He lou'd her sir, and lou'd her not

Kin. As thou art a knaue and no knaue, what an equiuocall Companion is this? Par. I am a poore man, and at your Maiesties command

Laf. Hee's a good drumme my Lord, but a naughtie Orator

Dian. Do you know he promist me marriage? Par. Faith I know more then Ile speake

Kin. But wilt thou not speake all thou know'st? Par. Yes so please your Maiesty: I did goe betweene them as I said, but more then that he loued her, for indeede he was madde for her, and talkt of Sathan, and of Limbo, and of Furies, and I know not what: yet I was in that credit with them at that time, that I knewe of their going to bed, and of other motions, as promising her marriage, and things which would deriue mee ill will to speake of, therefore I will not speake what I know

Kin. Thou hast spoken all alreadie, vnlesse thou canst say they are maried, but thou art too fine in thy euidence, therefore stand aside. This Ring you say was yours

Dia. I my good Lord

Kin. Where did you buy it? Or who gaue it you? Dia. It was not giuen me, nor I did not buy it

Kin. Who lent it you? Dia. It was not lent me neither

Kin. Where did you finde it then? Dia. I found it not

Kin. If it were yours by none of all these wayes, How could you giue it him? Dia. I neuer gaue it him

Laf. This womans an easie gloue my Lord, she goes off and on at pleasure

Kin. This Ring was mine, I gaue it his first wife

Dia. It might be yours or hers for ought I know

Kin. Take her away, I do not like her now, To prison with her: and away with him, Vnlesse thou telst me where thou hadst this Ring, Thou diest within this houre

Dia. Ile neuer tell you

Kin. Take her away

Dia. Ile put in baile my liedge

Kin. I thinke thee now some common Customer

Dia. By Ioue if euer I knew man 'twas you

King. Wherefore hast thou accusde him al this while

Dia. Because he's guiltie, and he is not guilty: He knowes I am no Maid, and hee'l sweare too't: Ile sweare I am a Maid, and he knowes not. Great King I am no strumpet, by my life, I am either Maid, or else this old mans wife

Kin. She does abuse our eares, to prison with her

Dia. Good mother fetch my bayle. Stay Royall sir, The Ieweller that owes the Ring is sent for, And he shall surety me. But for this Lord, Who hath abus'd me as he knowes himselfe, Though yet he neuer harm'd me, heere I quit him. He knowes himselfe my bed he hath defil'd, And at that time he got his wife with childe: Dead though she be, she feeles her yong one kicke: So there's my riddle, one that's dead is quicke, And now behold the meaning. Enter Hellen and Widdow.

Kin. Is there no exorcist Beguiles the truer Office of mine eyes? Is't reall that I see? Hel. No my good Lord, 'Tis but the shadow of a wife you see, The name, and not the thing

Ros. Both, both, O pardon

Hel. Oh my good Lord, when I was like this Maid, I found you wondrous kinde, there is your Ring, And looke you, heeres your letter: this it sayes, When from my finger you can get this Ring, And is by me with childe, &c. This is done, Will you be mine now you are doubly wonne? Ros. If she my Liege can make me know this clearly, Ile loue her dearely, euer, euer dearly

Hel. If it appeare not plaine, and proue vntrue, Deadly diuorce step betweene me and you. O my deere mother do I see you liuing? Laf. Mine eyes smell Onions, I shall weepe anon: Good Tom Drumme lend me a handkercher. So I thanke thee, waite on me home, Ile make sport with thee: Let thy curtsies alone, they are scuruy ones

King. Let vs from point to point this storie know, To make the euen truth in pleasure flow: If thou beest yet a fresh vncropped flower, Choose thou thy husband, and Ile pay thy dower. For I can guesse, that by thy honest ayde, Thou keptst a wife her selfe, thy selfe a Maide. Of that and all the progresse more and lesse, Resoluedly more leasure shall expresse: All yet seemes well, and if it end so meete, The bitter past, more welcome is the sweet.

Flourish.

The Kings a Begger, now the Play is done, All is well ended, if this suite be wonne, That you expresse Content: which we will pay, With strife to please you, day exceeding day: Ours be your patience then, and yours our parts, Your gentle hands lend vs, and take our hearts.

Exeunt. omn.

FINIS. ALL'S Well, that Ends Well.

Twelfe Night, Or what you will

Actus Primus, Scaena Prima.

Enter Orsino Duke of Illyria, Curio, and other Lords.

Duke. If Musicke be the food of Loue, play on, Giue me excesse of it: that surfetting, The appetite may sicken, and so dye. That straine agen, it had a dying fall: O, it came ore my eare, like the sweet sound That breathes vpon a banke of Violets; Stealing, and giuing Odour. Enough, no more, 'Tis not so sweet now, as it was before. O spirit of Loue, how quicke and fresh art thou, That notwithstanding thy capacitie, Receiueth as the Sea. Nought enters there, Of what validity, and pitch so ere, But falles into abatement, and low price Euen in a minute; so full of shapes is fancie, That it alone, is high fantasticall

Cu. Will you go hunt my Lord? Du. What Curio? Cu. The Hart

Du. Why so I do, the Noblest that I haue: O when mine eyes did see Oliuia first, Me thought she purg'd the ayre of pestilence; That instant was I turn'd into a Hart, And my desires like fell and cruell hounds, Ere since pursue me. How now what newes from her? Enter Valentine.

Val. So please my Lord, I might not be admitted, But from her handmaid do returne this answer: The Element it selfe, till seuen yeares heate, Shall not behold her face at ample view: But like a Cloystresse she will vailed walke, And water once a day her Chamber round With eye-offending brine: all this to season A brothers dead loue, which she would keepe fresh And lasting, in her sad remembrance

Du. O she that hath a heart of that fine frame To pay this debt of loue but to a brother, How will she loue, when the rich golden shaft Hath kill'd the flocke of all affections else That liue in her. When Liuer, Braine, and Heart, These soueraigne thrones, are all supply'd and fill'd Her sweete perfections with one selfe king: Away before me, to sweet beds of Flowres, Loue-thoughts lye rich, when canopy'd with bowres.

Exeunt.

Scena Secunda.

Enter Viola, a Captaine, and Saylors.

Vio. What Country (Friends) is this? Cap. This is Illyria Ladie

Vio. And what should I do in Illyria? My brother he is in Elizium, Perchance he is not drown'd: What thinke you saylors? Cap. It is perchance that you your selfe were saued

Vio. O my poore brother, and so perchance may he be

Cap. True Madam, and to comfort you with chance, Assure your selfe, after our ship did split, When you, and those poore number saued with you, Hung on our driuing boate: I saw your brother Most prouident in perill, binde himselfe, (Courage and hope both teaching him the practise) To a strong Maste, that liu'd vpon the sea: Where like Orion on the Dolphines backe, I saw him hold acquaintance with the waues, So long as I could see

Vio. For saying so, there's Gold: Mine owne escape vnfoldeth to my hope, Whereto thy speech serues for authoritie The like of him. Know'st thou this Countrey? Cap. I Madam well, for I was bred and borne Not three houres trauaile from this very place

Vio. Who gouernes heere? Cap. A noble Duke in nature, as in name

Vio. What is his name? Cap. Orsino

Vio. Orsino: I haue heard my father name him. He was a Batchellor then

Cap. And so is now, or was so very late: For but a month ago I went from hence, And then 'twas fresh in murmure (as you know What great ones do, the lesse will prattle of,) That he did seeke the loue of faire Oliuia

Vio. What's shee? Cap. A vertuous maid, the daughter of a Count That dide some tweluemonth since, then leauing her In the protection of his sonne, her brother, Who shortly also dide: for whose deere loue (They say) she hath abiur'd the sight And company of men

Vio. O that I seru'd that Lady, And might not be deliuered to the world Till I had made mine owne occasion mellow What my estate is

Cap. That were hard to compasse, Because she will admit no kinde of suite, No, not the Dukes

Vio. There is a faire behauiour in thee Captaine, And though that nature, with a beauteous wall Doth oft close in pollution: yet of thee I will beleeue thou hast a minde that suites With this thy faire and outward charracter. I prethee (and Ile pay thee bounteously) Conceale me what I am, and be my ayde, For such disguise as haply shall become The forme of my intent. Ile serue this Duke, Thou shalt present me as an Eunuch to him, It may be worth thy paines: for I can sing, And speake to him in many sorts of Musicke, That will allow me very worth his seruice. What else may hap, to time I will commit, Onely shape thou thy silence to my wit

Cap. Be you his Eunuch, and your Mute Ile bee, When my tongue blabs, then let mine eyes not see

Vio. I thanke thee: Lead me on.

Exeunt.

Scaena Tertia.

Enter Sir Toby, and Maria.

Sir To. What a plague meanes my Neece to take the death of her brother thus? I am sure care's an enemie to life

Mar. By my troth sir Toby, you must come in earlyer a nights: your Cosin, my Lady, takes great exceptions to your ill houres

To. Why let her except, before excepted

Ma. I, but you must confine your selfe within the modest limits of order

To. Confine? Ile confine my selfe no finer then I am: these cloathes are good enough to drinke in, and so bee these boots too: and they be not, let them hang themselues in their owne straps

Ma. That quaffing and drinking will vndoe you: I heard my Lady talke of it yesterday: and of a foolish knight that you brought in one night here, to be hir woer To. Who, Sir Andrew Ague-cheeke? Ma. I he

To. He's as tall a man as any's in Illyria

Ma. What's that to th' purpose? To. Why he ha's three thousand ducates a yeare

Ma. I, but hee'l haue but a yeare in all these ducates: He's a very foole, and a prodigall

To. Fie, that you'l say so: he playes o'th Viol-de-gamboys, and speaks three or four languages word for word without booke, & hath all the good gifts of nature

Ma. He hath indeed, almost naturall: for besides that he's a foole, he's a great quarreller: and but that hee hath the gift of a Coward, to allay the gust he hath in quarrelling, 'tis thought among the prudent, he would quickely haue the gift of a graue

Tob. By this hand they are scoundrels and substractors that say so of him. Who are they? Ma. They that adde moreour, hee's drunke nightly in your company

To. With drinking healths to my Neece: Ile drinke to her as long as there is a passage in my throat, & drinke in Illyria: he's a Coward and a Coystrill that will not drinke to my Neece, till his braines turne o'th toe, like a parish top. What wench? Castiliano vulgo: for here coms Sir Andrew Agueface. Enter Sir Andrew.

And. Sir Toby Belch. How now sir Toby Belch? To. Sweet sir Andrew

And. Blesse you faire Shrew

Mar. And you too sir

Tob. Accost Sir Andrew, accost

And. What's that? To. My Neeces Chamber-maid

Ma. Good Mistris accost, I desire better acquaintance Ma. My name is Mary sir

And. Good mistris Mary, accost

To, You mistake knight: Accost, is front her, boord her, woe her, assayle her

And. By my troth I would not vndertake her in this company. Is that the meaning of Accost? Ma. Far you well Gentlemen

To. And thou let part so Sir Andrew, would thou mightst neuer draw sword agen

And. And you part so mistris, I would I might neuer draw sword agen: Faire Lady, doe you thinke you haue fooles in hand? Ma. Sir, I haue not you by'th hand

An. Marry but you shall haue, and heeres my hand

Ma. Now sir, thought is free: I pray you bring your hand to'th Buttry barre, and let it drinke

An. Wherefore (sweet-heart?) What's your Metaphor? Ma. It's dry sir

And. Why I thinke so: I am not such an asse, but I can keepe my hand dry. But what's your iest? Ma. A dry iest Sir

And. Are you full of them? Ma. I Sir, I haue them at my fingers ends: marry now I let go your hand, I am barren.

Exit Maria

To. O knight, thou lack'st a cup of Canarie: when did I see thee so put downe? An. Neuer in your life I thinke, vnlesse you see Canarie put me downe: mee thinkes sometimes I haue no more wit then a Christian, or an ordinary man ha's: but I am a great eater of beefe, and I beleeue that does harme to my wit

To. No question

An. And I thought that, I'de forsweare it. Ile ride home to morrow sir Toby

To. Pur-quoy my deere knight? An. What is purquoy? Do, or not do? I would I had bestowed that time in the tongues, that I haue in fencing dancing, and beare-bayting: O had I but followed the Arts

To. Then hadst thou had an excellent head of haire

An. Why, would that haue mended my haire? To. Past question, for thou seest it will not coole my nature An. But it becoms me wel enough, dost not? To. Excellent, it hangs like flax on a distaffe: & I hope to see a huswife take thee between her legs, & spin it off

An. Faith Ile home to morrow sir Toby, your niece wil not be seene, or if she be it's four to one, she'l none of me: the Count himselfe here hard by, wooes her

To. Shee'l none o'th Count, she'l not match aboue hir degree, neither in estate, yeares, nor wit: I haue heard her swear't. Tut there's life in't man

And. Ile stay a moneth longer. I am a fellow o'th strangest minde i'th world: I delight in Maskes and Reuels sometimes altogether

To. Art thou good at these kicke-chawses Knight? And. As any man in Illyria, whatsoeuer he be, vnder the degree of my betters, & yet I will not compare with an old man

To. What is thy excellence in a galliard, knight? And. Faith, I can cut a caper

To. And I can cut the Mutton too't

And. And I thinke I haue the backe-tricke, simply as strong as any man in Illyria

To. 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

And. I, 'tis strong, and it does indifferent well in a dam'd colour'd stocke. Shall we sit about some Reuels? To. What shall we do else: were we not borne vnder Taurus? And. Taurus? That sides and heart

To. No sir, it is leggs and thighes: let me see thee caper. Ha, higher: ha, ha, excellent.

Exeunt.

Scena Quarta.

Enter Valentine, and Viola in mans attire.

Val. 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

Vio. 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

Val. No beleeue me. Enter Duke, Curio, and Attendants.

Vio. I thanke you: heere comes the Count

Duke. Who saw Cesario hoa? Vio. On your attendance my Lord heere

Du. 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

Vio. Sure my Noble Lord, If she be so abandon'd to her sorrow As it is spoke, she neuer will admit me

Du. Be clamorous, and leape all ciuill bounds, Rather then make vnprofited returne, Vio. Say I do speake with her (my Lord) what then? Du. 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

Vio. I thinke not so, my Lord

Du. 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

Vio. Ile do my best To woe your Lady: yet a barrefull strife, Who ere I woe, my selfe would be his wife.

Exeunt.

Scena Quinta.

Enter Maria, and Clowne.

Ma. 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

Clo. Let her hang me: hee that is well hang'de in this world, needs to feare no colours

Ma. Make that good

Clo. He shall see none to feare

Ma. A good lenton answer: I can tell thee where y saying was borne, of I feare no colours

Clo. Where good mistris Mary? Ma. In the warrs, & that may you be bolde to say in your foolerie

Clo. Well, God giue them wisedome that haue it: & those that are fooles, let them vse their talents

Ma. 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 you? Clo. Many a good hanging, preuents a bad marriage: and for turning away, let summer beare it out

Ma. You are resolute then? Clo. Not so neyther, but I am resolu'd on two points Ma. That if one breake, the other will hold: or if both breake, your gaskins fall

Clo. 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

Ma. Peace you rogue, no more o'that: here comes my Lady: make your excuse wisely, you were best. Enter Lady Oliuia, with Maluolio.

Clo. 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

Ol. Take the foole away

Clo. Do you not heare fellowes, take away the Ladie

Ol. Go too, y'are a dry foole: Ile no more of you: besides you grow dis-honest

Clo. 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? As there is no true Cuckold but calamity, so beauties a flower; The Lady bad take away the foole, therefore I say againe, take her away

Ol. Sir, I bad them take away you

Clo. Misprision in the highest degree. Lady, Cucullus non facit monachum: that's as much to say, as I weare not motley in my braine: good Madona, giue mee leaue to proue you a foole

Ol. Can you do it? Clo. Dexteriously, good Madona

Ol. Make your proofe

Clo. I must catechize you for it Madona, Good my Mouse of vertue answer mee

Ol. Well sir, for want of other idlenesse, Ile bide your proofe

Clo. Good Madona, why mournst thou? Ol. Good foole, for my brothers death

Clo. I thinke his soule is in hell, Madona

Ol. I know his soule is in heauen, foole

Clo. The more foole (Madona) to mourne for your Brothers soule, being in heauen. Take away the Foole, Gentlemen

Ol. What thinke you of this foole Maluolio, doth he not mend? Mal. Yes, and shall do, till the pangs of death shake him: Infirmity that decaies the wise, doth euer make the better foole

Clow. God send you sir, a speedie Infirmity, for the better increasing your folly: Sir Toby will be sworn that I am no Fox, but he wil not passe his word for two pence that you are no Foole