SCENE III.

OLIVIA'S _Garden_.

_Enter_ CLOWN, _playing on a Tabor, and_ VIOLA.

_Vio._ Save thee, friend, and thy music: Dost thou live by thy tabor?

_Clo._ No, sir, I live by the church.

_Vio._ Art thou a churchman?

_Clo._ No such matter, sir: I do live by the church; for I do live at my house, and my house doth stand by the church.

_Vio._ Art not thou the Lady Olivia's fool?

_Clo._ No, indeed, sir; the Lady Olivia has no folly: she will keep no fool, sir, till she be married; and fools are as like husbands, as pilchards are to herrings, the husband's the bigger; I am, indeed, not her fool, but her corrupter of words.

_Vio._ I saw thee late at the Duke Orsino's.

_Clo._ Foolery, sir, does walk about the orb, like the sun; it shines every where. I would be sorry, sir, but the fool should be as oft with your master, as with my mistress: I think, I saw your wisdom there.

_Vio._ Nay, an thou pass upon me, I'll no more with thee. Hold, there's expences for thee.

[_Gives him money._

_Clo._ Now, Jove, in his next commodity of hair, send thee a beard!

_Vio._ By my troth, I'll tell thee; I am almost sick for one.--Is thy lady within?

_Clo._ Would not a pair of these have bred, sir?

_Vio._ Yes, being kept together, and put to use.

_Clo._ I would play Lord Pandarus of Phrygia, sir, to bring a Cressida to this Troilus.

_Vio._ I understand you, sir: [_Gives him more money._] 'tis well begged.

_Clo._ My lady is within, sir. I will construe to them whence you came: who you are, and what you would, are out of my welkin: I might say, element; but the word is over-worn. [_Exit_ CLOWN.

_Vio._ This fellow's wise enough to play the fool; And to do that well, craves a kind of wit: He must observe their mood on whom he jests, The quality of persons, and the time; And, like the haggard, check at every feather That comes before his eye. This is a practice, As full of labour as a wise man's art.

_Enter_ SIR TOBY, _and_ SIR ANDREW.

_Sir To._ Save you, gentleman.

_Vio._ And you, sir.

_Sir To._ My niece is desirous you should enter, if your trade be to her.

_Vio._ I am bound to your niece, sir: I mean, she is the list of my voyage.

_Sir To._ Taste your legs, sir, put them to motion.

_Vio._ My legs do better understand me, sir, than I understand what you mean by bidding me taste my legs.

_Sir To._ I mean,--to go, sir, to enter.

_Vio._ I will answer you with gait and entrance: But we are prevented.

_Enter_ OLIVIA.

Most excellent accomplished lady, the heavens rain odours on you!

_Sir And._ That youth's a rare courtier!--_Rain odours!_--well.

_Vio._ My matter hath no voice, lady, but to your own most pregnant and vouchsafed ear.

_Sir And._ _Odours_, _pregnant_, and _vouchsafed_!--I'll get 'em all three ready.

_Oli._ Leave me to my hearing.

_Sir And._ _Odours--pregnant--vouchsafed._

[_Exeunt_ SIR TOBY _and_ SIR ANDREW.

_Oli._ Give me your hand, sir.

_Vio._ My duty, madam, and most humble service.

_Oli._ What is your name?

_Vio._ Cesario is your servant's name, fair princess.

_Oli._ My servant, sir! 'Twas never merry world, Since lowly feigning was called compliment: You are servant to the Duke Orsino, youth.

_Vio._ And he is yours, and his must needs be yours; Your servant's servant is your servant, madam.

_Oli._ For him, I think not on him: for his thoughts, 'Would they were blanks, rather than filled with me!

_Vio._ Madam, I come to whet your gentle thoughts on his behalf:--

_Oli._ O, by your leave, I pray you; I bade you never speak again of him: But, would you undertake another suit, I had rather hear you to solicit that, Than music from the spheres.

_Vio._ Dear lady,----

_Oli._ Give me leave, I beseech you: I did send, After the last enchantment you did here, A ring in chase of you; so did I abuse Myself, my servant, and, I fear me, you: Under your hard construction must I sit, To force that on you, in a shameful cunning, Which you knew none of yours: What might you think? Have you not set mine honour at the stake, And baited it with all the unmuzzled thoughts That tyrannous heart can think? To one of your receiving Enough is shown; a cyprus, not a bosom, Hides my poor heart: So let me hear you speak.

_Vio._ I pity you.

_Oli._ That's a degree to love.

_Vio._ No, not a grise; for 'tis a vulgar proof, That very oft we pity enemies.

_Oli._ Why, then, methinks, 'tis time to smile again: O world, how apt the poor are to be proud! [_Clock strikes._ The clock upbraids me with the waste of time.-- Be not afraid, good youth, I will not have you: And yet, when wit and youth is come to harvest, Your wife is like to reap a proper man: There lies your way, due west.

_Vio._ Then westward-hoe: Grace, and good disposition 'tend your ladyship! You'll nothing, madam, to my lord by me?

_Oli._ Stay: I pr'ythee, tell me, what thou think'st of me.

_Vio._ That you do think, you are not what you are.

_Oli._ If I think so, I think the same of you.

_Vio._ Then think you right; I am not what I am.

_Oli._ I would, you were as I would have you be!

_Vio._ Would it be better, madam, than I am, I wish it might; for now I am your fool.

_Oli._ O, what a deal of scorn looks beautiful In the contempt and anger of his lip! Cesario, by the roses of the spring, By maidhood, honour, truth, and every thing, I love thee so, that, maugre all thy pride, Nor wit, nor reason, can my passion hide.

_Vio._ By innocence, I swear, and by my youth. I have one heart, one bosom, and one truth, And that no woman has; nor never none Shall mistress be of it, save I alone. And so adieu, good madam; never more Will I my master's tears to you deplore.

_Oli._ Yet come again: for thou, perhaps, may'st move That heart, which now abhors, to like his love.

[_Exeunt._