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Mal. Saying, uncle Toby, my fortunes having caft me on your niece, give me this prerogative of fpeech.

Sir To. What, what?

Mal. You must amend your drunkenness.

Sir To. Out, scab!

Fab. Nay, patience, or we break the finews of our plot.

Mal. Befides, you wafte the treafure of your time with a foolish Knight

Sir And. That's me, I warrant you.

Mal. One Sir Andrew,

Sir And. I knew it was I; for many do call me

fool.

Mal. What employment have we here?

[Taking up the letter. Fab. Now is the woodcock near the gin.

Sir To. Oh peace! now the fpirit of humours intimate reading aloud to him!

Mal. By my life, this is my Lady's hand: these be her very C's, her U's, and her 7's, and thus makes the her great P's. It is, in contempt of queftion, her hand.

Sir And. Her C's, her U's, and her T's: why that? Mal. To the unknown below'd, this, and my good wishes; her very phrases: by your leave, wax. Soft! and the impreffure her Lucrece, with which fhe uses to feal; 'tis my Lady to whom should this be?

Fab. This wins him, liver and all.

Mal. Jove knows I love, but who, lips do not move, no man must know. No man muft know

what fol

lows the number's alter'd — no man must know-if this fhould be thee, Malvolio?

Sir To. Marry, hang thee, Brock!

Mal. I may command where I adore, but filence, like a Lucrece knife,

With bloodless ftroke my heart doth gore, M. O. A. I. doth way my life.

Fab. A fuftian riddle.

Sir To. Excellent wench, fay I.

Mal.

Mal. M. O. A. I. doth fway my life-nay, but first let me fee

- let me fee

Fab. What a difh of poifon has the dress'd him? Sir To. And with what wing the stallion checks at it ?

Mal. I may command where I adore. Why, fhe may command me: I ferve her, fhe is my Lady. Why, this is evident to any formal capacity. There is no obftruction in this-and the end-what should that alphabetical pofition portend? if I could make that refemble fomething in me? foftly-M. O. A. I.—

Sir To. O, ay! make up that; he is now at a cold fcent.

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

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Fab. Did not I fay, he would work it out? the cur is excellent at faults.

Mal. M. But then there is no confonancy in the fequel; that fuffers under probation: A fhould follow, but O does.

Fab. And O fhall end, I hope.

Sir To. Ay, or I'll cudgel him, and make him cry, O. Mal. And then I comes behind.

Fab. Ay, an you had any eye behind you, you might fee more detraction at your heels, than fortunes before you.

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Mal. M. O. A. I. this fimulation is not as the former-and yet to crufh this a little, it would bow to me, for every one of these letters is in my name. Soft, here follows profe If this fall into thy hand, revolve. In my ftars I am above thee, but be not afraid of greatness; fome are born great, fome atchieve greatnefs, and fome have greatness thrust upon them. Thy fates open their hands, let thy blood and Spirit embrace them; and to inure thyself to what thou art like to be, caft thy humble flough, and appear fresh. Be oppofite with a kinsman, Jurly with fervants: let thy tongue tang arguments of State; put thyself into the trick of fingularity. She thus advifes

advifes thee, that fighs for thee. Remember who commended thy yellow flockings, and wished to fee thee ever cross garter'd. I fay, remember; go to, thou art made, if thou defireft to be fo: if not, let me fee thee a feward fill, the fellow of fervants, and not worthy to teach Fortune's fingers. Farewel. She, that would alter fervices with thee. The fortunate and happy day-light and champian difcovers no more: this is open. I will be proud, I will read politick authors, I will baffle Sir Toby, I will wash off grofs acquaintance, I will be point devife, the very man. I do not now fool my felf, to let imagination jade me; for every reafon excites to this, that my Lady loves me. She did commend my yellow ftockings of late, fhe did praife my leg, being cross-garter'd, and in this the manifefts her felf to my love, and with a kind of injunction drives me to these habits of her liking. I thank my ftars, I am happy I will be ftrange, ftout, in yellow ftockings, and cross-garter'd, even with the fwiftnefs of putting on. Jove, and my ftars he prais'd!-Here is yet a poftfcript. Thou can't not chufe but know who I am; if thou entertaineft my love, let it appear in thy fmiling; thy fmiles become thee well. Therefore in my prefence fill Smile, dear my fweet, I pr'ythee.Jove, I thank thee! I will fmile, I will do every thing that thou wilt

have me.

[Exit.

Fab. I will not give my part of this fport for a penfion of thousands to be paid from the Sophy.

Sir To. I could marry this wench for this device.
Sir And. So could I too.

Sir To. And afk no other dowry with her, but fuch another jeft.

Enter Maria.

Sir And. Nor I neither.

Fab. Here comes my noble gull-catcher.

Sir To. Wilt thou fet thy foot o' my neck?

Sir And. Or o' mine either?

Sir To. Shall I play my freedom at tray-trip, and become thy bond-slave?

Sir

Sir And. I' faith, or I either?

Sir To. Why, thou haft put him in fuch a dream, that when the image of it leaves him, he must run

mad.

Mar. Nay, but fay true, does it work upon him? Sir To. Like aqua vita with a midwife.

Mar. If you will then fee the fruits of the fport, mark his first approach before my Lady: he will come to her in yellow ftockings, and 'tis a colour fhe abhors; and cross-garter'd, a fafhion fhe detefts; and he will fmile upon her, which will now be fo unsuitable to her difpofition, being addicted to a melancholy, as fhe is, that it cannot but turn him into a notable con. tempt: if you will fee it, follow me.

Sir To. To the gates of Tartar; thou moft excellent devil of wit!

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AVE thee, friend, and thy mufick: doft thou live by thy tabor?

SA

Clo. No, Sir, I live by the church.

Vio. Art thou a churchman?

Clo. No fuch matter, Sir; I do live by the church: for I do live at my house, and my house doth ftand by the church.

Vio. So thou may'ft fay, the King lies by a beggar, if a beggar dwell near him: or the church ftands by thy tabor, if thy tabor ftand by the church.

Cla.

Clo. You have faid, Sir: to fee this age!-(10) A fentence is but a chev'ril glove to a good wit; how quickly the wrong fide may be turned outward ?

Vio. Nay, that's certain; they, that dally nicely. with words, may quickly make them wanton.

Clo. I would, therefore, my fifter had had no name, Sir.

Vio. Why, man?

Clo. Why, Sir, her name's a word; and to dally with that word, might make my fifter wanton; but, indeed, words are very rafcals, fince bonds difgrac'd them.

Vio. Thy reafon, man?

Clo. Troth, Sir, I can yield you none without words; and words are grown fo falfe, I am loth to prove reafon with them.

Vio. I warrant, thou art a merry fellow, and careít for nothing.

Clo. Not fo, Sir, I do care for fomething; but, in my confcience, Sir, I do not care for you: if that be to care for nothing, Sir, I would, it would make you invifible.

Vio. Art not thou the Lady Olivia's fool?

Clo. No, indeed, Sir; the Lady Olivia has no folly; fhe will keep no fool, Sir, 'till fhe be married; and fools are as like hufbands, as pilchers are to herrings, the husband's the bigger: I am, indeed, not her fool, but her corrupter of words.

Vio. I faw thee late at the Duke Orfino's.

(10) A fentence is but a chev'ril glove to a good ruit;] Mr. Pope in his first edition of Shakespeare, to fhew the world the depth of his learning, inform'd us in a glofs that cheveril meant tender from cheverillus, a young cock, a chick. But I never heard yet of any glove or leather made of a cockrel's fkin; and believe, it will hardly come into experiment in Mr. Pope's or my time. The etymology is therefore to be difputed. I fhew'd in my SHAKESPEARE reflor'd, that cheveril leather is made of the fkin of a kid, or goat: which was called by the LATINES, Caprillus; by the ITALIANS, Ciarverello; and by the FRENCH, Chevereul: from which laft, our word cheveril is immediately deduced. Mr. Pope in his laft edition has fuffer'd himfelf to be inform'd; and embraced these derivations.

Clo.

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