DUKE. I cannot be so answer'd.

VIOLA. Sooth, but you 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 be answer'd?

DUKE. There is no woman's sides Can bide the beating of so strong a pa.s.sion As love doth give my heart; no woman's heart So big to hold so much; they lack retention.

Alas, their love may be call'd appet.i.te- No motion of the liver, but the palate- That suffer surfeit, cloyment, and revolt; But mine is all as hungry as the sea, And can digest as much. Make no compare Between that love a woman can bear me And that I owe Olivia.

VIOLA. Ay, but I know- DUKE. What dost thou know?

VIOLA. Too well what love women to men may owe.

In faith, they are as true of heart as we.

My father had a daughter lov'd a man, As it might be perhaps, were I a woman, I should your lords.h.i.+p.

DUKE. And what's her history?

VIOLA. A blank, my lord. She never told her love, But let concealment, like a worm i' th' bud, Feed on her damask cheek. She pin'd in thought; And with a green and yellow melancholy She sat like Patience on a monument, Smiling at grief. Was not this love indeed?

We men may say more, swear more, but indeed Our shows are more than will; for still we prove Much in our vows, but little in our love.

DUKE. But died thy sister of her love, my boy?

VIOLA. I am all the daughters of my father's house, And all the brothers too- and yet I know not.

Sir, shall I to this lady?

DUKE. Ay, that's the theme.

To her in haste. Give her this jewel; say My love can give no place, bide no denay. Exeunt

SCENE V.

OLIVIA'S garden

Enter SIR TOBY, SIR ANDREW, and FABIAN

SIR TOBY. Come thy ways, Signior Fabian.

FABIAN. Nay, I'll come; if I lose a scruple of this sport let me be boil'd to death with melancholy.

SIR TOBY. Wouldst thou not be glad to have the n.i.g.g.ardly rascally sheep-biter come by some notable shame?

FABIAN. I would exult, man; you know he brought me out o' favour with my lady about a bear-baiting here.

SIR TOBY. To anger him we'll have the bear again; and we will fool him black and blue- shall we not, Sir Andrew?

AGUECHEEK. And we do not, it is pity of our lives.

Enter MARIA

SIR TOBY. Here comes the little villain.

How now, my metal of India!

MARIA. Get ye all three into the box-tree. Malvolio's coming down this walk. He has been yonder i' the sun practising behaviour to his own shadow this half hour. Observe him, for the love of mockery, for I know this letter will make a contemplative idiot of him. Close, in the name of jesting! [As the men hide she drops a letter] Lie thou there; for here comes the trout that must be caught with tickling.

Exit

Enter MALVOLIO

MALVOLIO. 'Tis but fortune; all is fortune. Maria once told me she did affect me; and I have heard herself come thus near, that, should she fancy, it should be one of my complexion. Besides, she uses me with a more exalted respect than any one else that follows her. What should I think on't?

SIR TOBY. Here's an overweening rogue!

FABIAN. O, peace! Contemplation makes a rare turkey-c.o.c.k of him; how he jets under his advanc'd plumes!

AGUECHEEK. 'Slight, I could so beat the rogue- SIR TOBY. Peace, I say.

MALVOLIO. To be Count Malvolio!

SIR TOBY. Ah, rogue!

AGUECHEEK. Pistol him, pistol him.

SIR TOBY. Peace, peace!

MALVOLIO. There is example for't: the Lady of the Strachy married the yeoman of the wardrobe.

AGUECHEEK. Fie on him, Jezebel!

FABIAN. O, peace! Now he's deeply in; look how imagination blows him.

MALVOLIO. Having been three months married to her, sitting in my state- SIR TOBY. O, for a stone-bow to hit him in the eye!

MALVOLIO. Calling my officers about me, in my branch'd velvet gown, having come from a day-bed- where I have left Olivia sleeping- SIR TOBY. Fire and brimstone!

FABIAN. O, peace, peace!

MALVOLIO. And then to have the humour of state; and after a demure travel of regard, telling them I know my place as I would they should do theirs, to ask for my kinsman Toby- SIR TOBY. Bolts and shackles!

FABIAN. O, peace, peace, peace! Now, now.

MALVOLIO. Seven of my people, with an obedient start, make out for him. I frown the while, and perchance wind up my watch, or play with my- some rich jewel. Toby approaches; curtsies there to me- SIR TOBY. Shall this fellow live?

FABIAN. Though our silence be drawn from us with cars, yet peace.

MALVOLIO. I extend my hand to him thus, quenching my familiar smile with an austere regard of control- SIR TOBY. And does not Toby take you a blow o' the lips then?

MALVOLIO. Saying 'Cousin Toby, my fortunes having cast me on your niece give me this prerogative of speech'- SIR TOBY. What, what?

MALVOLIO. 'You must amend your drunkenness'- SIR TOBY. Out, scab!

FABIAN. Nay, patience, or we break the sinews of our plot.

MALVOLIO. 'Besides, you waste the treasure of your time with a foolish knight'- AGUECHEEK. That's me, I warrant you.

MALVOLIO. 'One Sir Andrew.'

AGUECHEEK. I knew 'twas I; for many do call me fool.

MALVOLIO. What employment have we here?

[Taking up the letter]

FABIAN. Now is the woodc.o.c.k near the gin.

SIR TOBY. O, peace! And the spirit of humours intimate reading aloud to him!

MALVOLIO. By my life, this is my lady's hand: these be her very C's, her U's, and her T's; and thus makes she her great P's. It is, in contempt of question, her hand.

AGUECHEEK. Her C's, her U's, and her T's. Why that?

MALVOLIO. [Reads] 'To the unknown belov'd, this, and my good wishes.' Her very phrases! By your leave, wax. Soft! And the impressure her Lucrece with which she uses to seal; 'tis my lady.

To whom should this be?

FABIAN. This wins him, liver and all.

MALVOLIO. [Reads]

Jove knows I love, But who?

Lips, do not move; No man must know.'

'No man must know.' What follows? The numbers alter'd!

'No man must know.' If this should be thee, Malvolio?

SIR TOBY. Marry, hang thee, brock!

MALVOLIO. [Reads]

'I may command where I adore; But silence, like a Lucrece knife, With bloodless stroke my heart doth gore; M. O. A. I. doth sway my life.'

FABIAN. A fustian riddle!

SIR TOBY. Excellent wench, say I.

MALVOLIO. 'M. O. A. I. doth sway my life.'

Nay, but first let me see, let me see, let me see.

FABIAN. What dish o' poison has she dress'd him!

SIR TOBY. And with what wing the staniel checks at it!

MALVOLIO. 'I may command where I adore.' Why, she may command me: I serve her; she is my lady. Why, this is evident to any formal capacity; there is no obstruction in this. And the end- what should that alphabetical position portend? If I could make that resemble something in me. Softly! M. O. A. I.- SIR TOBY. O, ay, make up that! He is now at a cold scent.

FABIAN. Sowter will cry upon't for all this, though it be as rank as a fox.

MALVOLIO. M- Malvolio; M- why, that begins my name.

FABIAN. Did not I say he would work it out?

The cur is excellent at faults.

MALVOLIO. M- But then there is no consonancy in the sequel; that suffers under probation: A should follow, but O does.