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the head and shoulders, and have given ourselves cozened; I ha' married un garçon, a boy; un paiwithout scruple to hell, that ever the devil could san, by gar, a boy; it is not Anne Page: by gar, I have made you our delight? am cozened.

Ford. What, a hodge-pudding? a bag of flax?
Mrs. Page. A putted man?

Page. Old, cold, withered, and of intolerable

entrails.

Mrs. Page. Why, did you take her in green? Caius. Ay, be gar, and 'tis a boy: be gar, I'll raise all Windsor. [Exit Caius.

Ford. This is strange: Who hath got the right

Ford. And one that is as slanderous as Satan? Anne?
Page. And as poor as Job?

Ford. And as wicked as his wife?

Eva. And given to fornications, and to taverns, and sack, and wine, and metheglins, and to drinkings, and swearings, and starings, pribbles and prabbles?

Ful. Well, I am your theme: you have the start of me; I am dejected; I am not able to answer the Welch flannel; ignorance itself is a plummet o'er me: use me as you will.

Ford. Marry, sir, we'll bring you to Windsor, to one master Brook, that you have cozened of money, to whom you should have been a pander: over and above that you have suffered, I think, to repay that money will be a biting affliction. Mrs. Ford. Nay, husband, let that go to make

amends:

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Slen. Whoo, ho! ho! father Page! Page. Son! how now? how now, son? have you despatched?

Slen. Despatched-I'll make the best in Glocestershire know on't; would I were hanged, la, else. Page. Of what, son?

Slen. I came yonder at Eton to marry mistress Anne Page, and she's a great lubberly boy: If it had not been i' the church, I would have swinged him, or he should have swinged me. If I did not think it had been Anne Page, would I might never stir, and 'tis a post-master's boy.

Page. Upon my life then, you took the wrong. Slen. What need you tell me that? I think so, when I took a boy for a girl: If I had been married to him, for all he was in woman's apparel, I would not have had him.

Page. Why, this is your own folly. Did not I tell you, how you should know my daughter by her| garments?

Slen. I went to her in white, and cry'd mum, and she cry'd budget, as Anne and I had appointed; and yet it was not Anne, but a post-master's boy. Eva. Jeshu! Master Slender, cannot you see but marry poys?

Page. My heart misgives me: Here comes master Fenton.

Enter Fenton and Anne Page.

How now, master Fenton?
Anne. Pardon, good father! good my mother,
pardon!

Page. Now, mistress? how chance you went not with master Slender?

Mrs. Page. Why went you not with master doctor, maid?

Fent. You do amaze1 her: Hear the truth of it.
You would have married her most shamefully,
Where there was no proportion held in love.
The truth is, she and I, long since contracted,
Are now so sure that nothing can dissolve us.
The offence is holy, that she hath committed:
And this deceit loses the name of craft,
Of disobedience, or unduteous title;
Since therein the doth evitate and shun
A thousand irreligious cursed hours,
Which forced marriage would have brought upon
her.

Ford. Stand not amaz'd: here is no remedy:-
In love, the heavens themselves do guide the state;
Money buys lands, and wives are sold by fate.

Fal. I am glad, though you have ta'en a special stand to strike at me, that your arrow hath glanced. Page. Well, what remedy? Fenton, heaven give thee joy!

What cannot be eschew'd, must be embrac'd.
Fal. When night-dogs run, all sorts of deer are
chas'd.

Eva. I will dance and eat plumbs at your wed-
ding.

Mrs. Page. Well, I will muse no further:-
Master Fenton,

Heaven give you many, many merry days!
Good husband, let us every one go home,
And laugh this sport o'er by a country fire;
Sir John and all.
Ford.
To master Brook you yet shall hold your word;
For he, to-night, shall lie with Mrs. Ford.

Let it be so:-Sir John,

[Exeunt.

Of this play there is a tradition preserved by Mr. Rowe, that it was written at the command of Queen Elizabeth, who was so delighted with the character of Falstaff, that she wished it to be difPage. O, I am vexed at heart: What shall I do? fused through more plays; but suspecting that it Mrs. Page. Good George, be not angry: I might pall by continued uniformity, directed the knew of your purpose; turned my daughter into poet to diversify his manner, by showing him in green; and, indeed, she is now with the doctor at love. No task is harder than that of writing to the the deanery, and there married.

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ideas of another. Shakspeare knew what the queen, if the story be true, seems not to have known, that by any real passion of tenderness, the selfish craft, the careless jollity, and the lazy luxury of Falstaff, must have suffered so much abatement, that little of his former cast would have remained. Falstaff could not love, but by ceasing to be Falstaff. He

all his former power of entertainment.

could only counterfeit love, and his professions of forming ridiculous characters can confer praise could be prompted, not by the hope of pleasure, only on him who originally discovered it, for it rebut of money. Thus the poet approached as near quires not much of either wit or judgment; its as he could to the work enjoined him; yet having success must be derived almost wholly from the perhaps in the former plays completed his own player, but its power in a skilful mouth, even he idea, seems not to have been able to give Falstaff that despises it, is unable to resist. The conduct of this drama is deficient; the acThis comedy is remarkable for the variety and tion begins and ends often, before the conclusion, number of the personages, who exhibit more cha- and the different parts might change places withracters appropriated and discriminated, than per- out inconvenience; but its general power, that haps can be found in any other play. power by which all works of genius shall finally Whether Shakspeare was the first that produced be tried, is such, that perhaps it never yet had upon the English stage the effect of language dis-reader or spectator who did not think it too soon torted and depraved by provincial or foreign pro- at the end. nunciation, I cannot certainly decide. This model

JOHNSON

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Val. So please my lord, I might not be admitted, But from her handmaid do return this answer : The element itself, till seven years heat,' Shall not behold her face at ample view; But, like a cloistress, she will veiled walk, And water once a day her chamber round, With eye-offending brine: all this, to season

A brother's dead love, which she would keep fresh, And lasting, in her sad remembrance.

Duke. O, she that hath a heart of that fine frame, To pay this debt of love but to a brother, How will she love, when the rich golden shaft

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Hath

the flock of all affections else That live in when liver, brain, and heart, These sovereign thrones, are all supplied, and fill'd, (Her sweet perfections,) with one self king!Away before me to sweet beds of flowers; Love-thoughts lie rich, when canopied with bowers [Exeunt SCENE II.-The sea-coast Enter Viola, Cap tain, and Sailors.

Vio. What country, friends, is this?
Сар.
Illyria, lady.
Vio. And what should I do in Illyria?

My brother he is in Elysium.

Perchance, he is not drown'd:-What think you, sailors?

Cap. It is perchance, that you yourself were

saved.

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

Cap. True, madam: and, to comfort you with chance,

Assure yourself, after our ship did split,
When you, and that poor number saved with you,
Hung on our driving boat, I saw your brother,
Most provident in peril, bind himself

(Courage and hope both teaching him the prac

tice)

To a strong mast, that lived upon the sea;
Where, like Arion on the dolphin's back,
I saw him hold acquaintance with the waves,
So long as I could see.

Vio.
For saying so, there's gold:
Mine own escape unfoldeth to my hope,
Whereto thy speech serves for authority,
The like of him. Know'st thou this country?
Cap. Ay, madam, well; for I was bred and
born,

Not three hours' travel from this very place.
Vio. Who governs here?
Cap.

As in his name.

Vio.

Сар.

A noble duke, in nature,

What is his name?

Orsino.

Vio. Orsino! I have heard my father name him:

He was a bachelor then.

(S) Heated.

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Cap.

And so is now,

Or was so very late; for but a month
Ago I went from hence; and then 'twas fresh
In murmur (as, you know, what great ones do
The less will prattle of,) that he did seek
The love of fair Olivia.

Vio.

What's she?

Cap. A virtuous maid, the daughter of a count That died some twelvemonth since; then leaving

her

In the protection of his son, her brother,
Who shortly also died: for whose dear love,
They say, she hath abjur'd the company
And sight of men.

Vio.

O, that I served that lady;
And might not be delivered to the world,
Till I had made mine own occasion mellow,

What my estate is.

Cap.

That were hard to compass;

Because she will admit no kind of suit,
No, not the duke's,

Vio. There is a fair behaviour in thee, captain;
And though that nature with a beauteous wall
Doth oft close in pollution, yet of thee

I will believe, thou hast a mind that suits
With this thy fair and outward character.
I pray thee, and I'll pay thee bounteously,
Conceal me what I am; and be my aid
For such disguise as, haply, shall become
The form of my intent. I'll serve this duke;
Thou shalt present me as a eunuch to him,
It may be worth thy pains; for I can sing,
And speak to him in many sorts of music,
That will allow me very worth his service.
What else may hap, to time I will commit;
Only shape thou thy silence to my wit.

Cap. Be you his eunuch, and your mute I'll be:
When my tongue biabs, then let mine eyes not see!
Vio. I thank thee: lead me on. [Exeunt.
SCENE III-A room in Olivia's house. Enter
Sir Toby Belch and Maria.

Sir To. What a plague means my niece, to take the death of her brother thus? I am sure, care's an enemy to life.

Mar. By troth, sir Toby, you must come in earlier o' nights; your cousin, my lady, takes great exceptions to your ill hours.

Sir To. Why, let her except before excepted. Mar. Ay, but you must confine yourself within the modest limits of order.

Sir To. Confine? I'll confine myself no finer than I am: these clothes are good enough to drink in, and so be these boots too; an they be not, let them hang themselves in their own straps.

a

Mar. That quaffing and drinking will undo you: I heard my lady talk of it yesterday; and of foolish knight, that you brought in one night here, to be her wooer.

Sir To. Who? Sir Andrew Ague-cheek?
Mar. Ay, he.

Sir To. He's as tall a man as any's in Illyria.
Mar. What's that to the purpose?

Sir To. Why, he has three thousand ducats year.

Mar. He hath, indeed, almost natural? for, be sides that he's a fool, he's a great quarreller and, but that he hath the gift of a coward to allay the gust, he hath in quarrelling, 'tis thought among the prudent, he would quickly have the gift of a graye.

Sir To. By this hand, they are scoundrels, and substractors, that say so of him. Who are they? Mar. They that add moreover, he's drunk night ly in your company.

a

Mar. Ay, but he'll have but a year in all these ducats; he's a very fool, and a prodigal.

Sir To. With drinking healths to my niece; I'll drink to her, as long as there is a passage in my throat, and drink in Illyria: he's a coward and a coystril, that will not drink to my niece, till his brains turn o' the toe, like a parish-top. What, wench? Castiliano vulgo; for here comes sir Andrew Ague-face.

Enter Sir Andrew Ague-cheek.

Sir And. Sir Toby Belch! how now, sir

Belch?

Sir To. Sweet sir Andrew?

Sir And. Bless you, fair shrew.

Mar. And you too, sir.

Sir To. Accost, sir Andrew, accost.

Sir And. What's that?

Sir To. My niece's chamber-maid.

Sir And. Good mistress Accost, I desire better acquaintance.

Mar. My name is Mary, sir.

Sir And. Good mistress Mary Accost,Sir To. You mistake, knight: accost, is, front her, board her, woo her, assail her.

Sir And. By my troth, I would not undertake her in this company. Is that the meaning of accost? Mar. Fare you well, gentlemen.

Sir To. An thou let part so, sir Andrew, 'would thou might'st never draw sword again.

Sir And. An you part so, mistress, I would I might never draw sword again. Fair lady, do you think you have fools in hand?

Mar. Sir, I have not you by the hand.

Sir And. Marry, but you shall have; and here's my hand.

Mar. Now, sir, thought is free; I pray you, bring your hand to the buttery-bar, and let it drink. Sir And. Wherefore, sweetheart? what's your metaphor?

Mar. It's dry, sir.

Sir And. Why, I think so; I am not such an ass, but I can keep my hand dry. But what's your jest? Mar. A dry jest, sir.

Sir And. Are you full of them?

Mar. Ay, sir; I have them at my fingers' ends: marry, now I let go your hand, I am barren. [Exit Maria. Sir To. O knight, thou lack'st a cup of canary when did I see thee so put down?

Sir And. Never in your life, I think; unless you see canary put me down: methinks, sometimes I have no more wit than a Christian, or an ordinary man has: but I am a great eater of beef, and, 1 believe, that does harm to my wit.

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Sir To. Fie, that you'll say so! he plays o' the Sir And. What is pourquoy? do or not do? I viol-de-gambo, and speaks three or four,languages would I had bestowed that time in the tongues, word for word without book, and hath all the good that I have in fencing, dancing, and bear-baiting: gifts of nature. 10, had I but followed the arts!

(1) Approve. (2) Stout.

(5) Keystril, a bastard hawk.
K

Sir

Then hadst thou had an e

bead Thee the book even of my secret soul:
Thore, good youth, address thy gait3 unto her;
And tell them, there thy fixed foot shall grow,
ot deny'd access, stand at her doors,
Till thou have audience.

Why, would that have m air? Past question; for thou seest, it will not becomes me well enough, does't

curl by nature. Sir And. But not?

Sir To. Excellent; it hangs like flax on a distaff; and I hope to see a housewife take thee between her legs, and spin it off.

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Sir And. 'Faith, I'll home to-morrow, sir Toby: your niese will not be seen; or, if she be, it's four to one she'll none of me: the count himself, here hard by, woos her.

Sir To. She'll none o' the count: she'll not match above her degree, neither in estate, years, nor wit; I have heard her swear it. Tut, there's life in't,

man

And. I'll stay a month longer. I am a felthe strangest mind i' the world; I delight in ues and revels sometimes altogether. Sir To. Art thou good at these kick-shaws, knight?

Vio.

Sure, my noble lord,

If she be so abandon'd to her sorrow
As it is spoke, she never will admit me.
Duke. Be clamorous, and leap all civil bounds,
Rather than make unprofited return.

Vio. Say, I do speak with her, my lord; what
then?

Duke. O, then unfold the passion of my love,
It shall become thee well to act my woes;
Surprise her with discourse of my dear faith:
She will attend it better in thy youth,
Than in a nuncio of more grave aspect.
Vio. I think not so, my lord.
Duke.

For they shall yet belie thy happy years
Dear lad, believe it,
Is not more smooth and rubious; thy small pipe
That say, thou art a man: Diana's lip
Is as the maiden's organ, shrill and sound,

Sir To. What is thy excellence in a galliard, knight?

Sir And. As any man in Illyria, whatsoever he And all is semblative a woman's part.
be, under the degree of my betters; and yet I will I know, thy constellation is right apt
not compare with an old man.
All, if you will; for I myself am best,
For this affair:-Some four, or five, attend him,
When least in company:-Prosper well in this,
And thou shalt live as freely as thy lord,
To call his fortunes thine.

Sir And. 'Faith, I can cut a caper.
Sir To. And I can cut the mutton to't.
Sir And. And, I think, I have the back-trick,
simply as strong as any man in Illyria.

Vio.
I'll do my best,
Whoe'er I woo, myself would be his wife.
To woo your lady: yet [Aside.] a barful strife!

Maria and Clown.

[Exeunt.

Sir To. Wherefore are these things hid? wherefore have these gifts a curtain before them? are they like to take dust, like mistress Mall's picture? Why dost thou not go to church in a galliard, SCENE V.-A room in Olivia's house. Enter and come home in a coranto? My very walk should be a jig; I would not so much as make water, but in a sink-a-pace. What dost thou mean? is it a world to hide virtues in? I did think, or I will not open my lips so wide as a bristle may by the excellent constitution of thy leg, it was enter, in way of thy excuse: my lady will hang formed under the star of a galliard. thee for thy absence.

Sir And. Ay, 'tis strong, and it does indifferent well in a flame-coloured stock.2 Shall we set about some revels?

Sir To. What shall we do else? were we not born under Taurus?

Sir And. Taurus? that's sides and heart. Sir To. No, sir; it is legs and thighs. Let me see thee caper: ha! higher: ha, ha!-excellent! [Exeunt.

SCENE IV.—A room in the Duke's palace. Enter Valentine, and Viola in man's attire.

Val. If the duke continue these favours towards you, Cesario, you are like to be much advanced; he hath known you but three days, and already you are no stranger.

Vio. You either fear his humour, or my negligence, that you call in question the continuance of his love: is he inconstant, sir, in his favours? Val. No, believe me.

Enter Duke, Curio, and attendants. Vio. I thank you. Here comes the count. Duke. Who saw Cesario, ho?

Vio. On your attendance, my lord; here.
Duke. Stand you awhile aloof.-Cesario,
Thou know'st no less but all; I have unclasp'd

(1) Cinque-pace, the name of a dance.
(2) Stocking.
(3) Go thy way.
(4) Full of impediments.

Mar. Nay, either tell me where thou hast been,

in this world, needs to fear no colours.
Clo. Let her hang me: he, that is well hanged
Mar. Make that good.

Clo. He shall see none to fear.

Mar. A good lenten answer: I can tell thee where that saying was born, of, I fear no colours. Clo. Where, good mistress Mary?

Mar. In the wars; and that may you be bold to say in your foolery.

and those that are fools, let them use their talents.
Clo. Well, God give them wisdom, that have it;
as a hanging to you?
Mar. Yet you will be hanged, for being so long
absent: or, to be turned away, is not that as good

riage; and, for turning away, let summer bear it
Clo. Many a good hanging prevents a bad mar-

out.

Mar. You are resolute then?

Clo. Not so neither; but I am resolved on two points.

Mar. That, if one break, the other will hold; or, if both break, your gaskins fall.

Clo. Apt, in good faith; very apt! Well, go thy way; if sir Toby would leave drinking, thou wert as witty a piece of Eve's flesh as any in Illyria.

Mar. Peace, you rogue, no more o' that; here comes my lady: make your excuse wisely, you were best. [Exit.

(5) Short and spare.

(6) Points were hooks which fastened the hose Jor breeches.

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