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Sir To Possess us, possess us; tell us something of him.
Sir To. What, for being a puritan? thy exquisite reason, dear knight.
Šir And. I have no exquisite reason for’t, but I have reason good enough.
Mar. The devil a puritan that he is, or any thing constantly but a time-pleaser, an affected ass, that cons state without book, and utters it by great swarths. The best persuaded of himself: so cram'd, as he thinks, with excellencies, that it is his ground of faith, that all, that look on him, love him; and on that vice in him will my revenge find notable cause to work.
Sir To. What wilt thou do?
Mar. I will drop in his way fome obscure epistles of love; wherein, by the colour of his beard, the shape of his leg, the manner of his gait, the expressure of his eye, forehead, and complexion, he shall find himself
most feelingly personated: I can write very like my lady your niece; on a forgotten matter we can hardly make distinction of our hands.
Sir To. Excellent! I smell a device.
Sir To. He shall think by the letters that thou wilt drop, that they come from my niece, and that she is in love with him.
Mar. My purpose is, indeed, a horse of that colour.
Mar. Sport royal, I warrant you: I know, my phyfick will work with him. I will plant you two, and let the fool make a third, where he shall find the letter: observe his construction of it: for this night, to bed, and dream on the event. Farewel. [Exit.
Sir To. Good night, Penthifilea.
Sir To. She's a beagle, true bred, and one that adores me; what o'that? Sir And. I was ador'd once too.
Sir To. Let's to bed, knight: thou hadît need send for more money:
Sir And. If I cannot recover your niece, I am a foul way out.
Sir To. Send for money, knight; if thou hast her not i'th'end, call me, cut.
Sir And. If I do not, never trust me, take it how you will.
Sir To. Come, come; I'll go burn some fack, 'tis too late to go to bed now: come, knight, come, knight. [Exeunt.
Enter Duke, Viola, Curio, and others.
Now, good Cesario, but that piece of song,
Cur. He is not here, so please your lordship, that should fing it.
Cur. Feste the jester, my lord, a fool that the lady Olivia's father took much delight in. He is about the house. Duke. Seek him out, and play the tune the while. [Ex. Curio.
[musick. Come hither, boy; if ever thou shalt love, In the sweet pangs of it, remember me; For, such as I am, all true lovers are, Unstaid and skittish in all motions else, Save in the constant image of the creature That is belov’d. How dost thou like this tune?
Vio. It gives a very echo to the seat Where love is thron’d.
Duke. Thou dost speak masterly.
Vio. A little, by your favour.
Duke. Too old, by heav'n ; let still the woman take
Vio. I think it well, my lord.
Duke. Then let thy love be younger than thyself,
Vio. And so they are: alas, that they are so,
Enter Curio, and Clown.
Clo. Are you ready, fir?
And in fad cypress let me be lay'd;
I am Jain by a fair cruel maid.
Did bare it.
Not a flower, not a flower sweet,
On my black coffin let there be strown :
My poor corps, where my bones shall be thrown.
Lay me where
To weep there.
Duke. There's for thy pains.
Clo. Now, the melancholy god protect thee, and the tailor make thy doublet of changeable taffeta, 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. Farewel.
[Exit. SCENE VI. Duke. Let all the rest give place. Once more, Cesario, Get thee to yond same sovereign cruelty:
Tell her, my love, more noble than the world,
Vio. But, if she cannot love you, fir?
must. Say that some lady, as, perhaps, there is, Hath for your love as great a pang of heart As you
have for Olivia : you cannot love her; You tell her so; must she not then he answer'd?
Duke. There is no woman's fides
Vio. Ay, but I know
Vio. Too well what love women to men may owe;
Duke. What's her history?
Vio. A blank, my lord: she never told her love,