TWELFTH-NIGHT. ACT I. SCENE I.-An Apartment in the Duke's Palace. Enter Duke, CURIO, Lords; Musicians attending. Duke. IF music be the food of love, play on, Stealing, and giving odour. Enough; no more ; O spirit of love, how quick and fresh art thou! [1] Amongst the beauties of this charming similitude, its exact propriety is not the least. For, as a south wind, while blowing over a violet bank, wafts away the odour of the flowers, it at the same time communicates its own sweetness to it; so the soft affecting music, here described, though it takes away the natural sweet tranquillity of the mind, yet, at the same time, it communicates a new pleasure to it. Or, it may allude to another property of music, where the same strains have a power to excite pain or pleasure, as the state is, in which it finds the hearer. Hence Milton makes the self-same strains of Orpheus proper to excite both the affections of mirth and melancholy, just as the mind is then disposed. If to mirth, he calls for such music, "That Orpheus' self may heave his head From golden slumbers on a bed Of heap'd Elysian flowers, and hear His half-regain'd Eurydice." L'Allegro. If to melancholy, "Or bid the soul of Orpheus sing Such notes as warbled to the string, Drew iron tears down Pluto's cheek, And made hell grant what love did seek." Il Penseroso. WARB [2] Milton, in his Paradise Lost, B. IV. has very successfully introduced the same image: now gentle gales, Fanning their odoriferous wings, dispense Native perfumes, and whisper whence they stole Those balmy spoils." STEEVENS. Receiveth as the sea, nought enters there, But falls into abatement and low price, Cur. Will you go hunt, my lord? Cur. The hart. Duke. Why, so I do, the noblest that I have: E'er since pursue me.-How now? what news from her? Val. So please my lord, I might not be admitted, Duke. Ŏ, she, that hath a heart of that fine frame, That live in her! when liver, brain, and heart, The Sea-coast. SCENE II. [Exeunt. Enter VIOLA, Captain, and Sailors. Vio. What country, friends, is this? Cap. Illyria, lady. Vio. And what should I do in Illyria? [3] This image evidently alludes to the story of Acteon, by which Shakespeare seems to think men cautioned against too great familiarity with for bidden beauty. Acteon, who saw Diana naked and was torn to pieces by his hounds, represents a man, who indulging his eyes, or his imagination, with the view of a woman that he cannot gain, has his heart torn with incessant longing. An interpretation far more elegant and natural than that of Sir Francis My brother he is in Elysium. Perchance, he is not drown'd:-What think you, sailors? When you, and that poor number saved with you, (Courage and hope both teaching him the practice) I saw him hold acquaintance with the waves, Vio. For saying so, there's gold: Mine own escape unfoldeth to my hope, Cap. Ay, madam, well; for I was bred and born, Vio. Who governs here? Cap. A noble duke, in nature, As in his name. Vio. What is his name? Cap. Orsino. Vio. Orsino! I have heard my father name him: He was a bachelor then. 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, Vio. What's she? Cap. A virtuous maid, the daughter of a count That dy'd some twelve-month 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 : Bacon, who, in his Wisdom of the Ancients, supposes this story to warn us against inquiring into the secrets of princes by shewing that those who know that which for reasons of state is to be concealed, will be detected and destroyed by their own servants. JOHNSON. And might not be delivered to the world, 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; I will believe, thou hast a mind that suits Cap. Be you his eunuch, and your mute I'll be: SCENE III. [Exeunt 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 my 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. Mar. That quaffing and drinking will undo you: I heard my lady talk of it yesterday; and of a 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. Sir To. Why, he has three thousand ducats a year. Mar. Ay, but he'll have but a year in all these ducats; he's a very fool, and a prodigal. Sir To. Fye, that you'll say so! he plays o' th' viol-degambo, and speaks three or four languages word for word without book, and hath all the good gifts of nature. Mar. He hath, indeed,-almost natural: for, besides 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 grave. Sir To. By this hand, they are scoundrels, and sub tractors, that say so of him. Who are they? Mar. They that add moreover, he's drunk nightly in your company. 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 Toby 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. [5] The viol-de-gambo seems, in our author's time, to have been a very fashionable instrument; from the Italian word Gamba, the leg; it being held between the legs when played upon. STEEVENS. [6] i. e. a coward cock. It may however be a keystril, or a bastard hawk; a kind of stone-hawk. A coystril is a paltry groom, one only fit to carry arms, but not to use them. TOLLET. [7] This is one of the customs now laid aside. A large top was formerly kept in every village, to be whipped in frosty weather, that the peasants may be kept warm by exercise, and out of mischief, while they could not work. STEEVENS. "To sleep like a town-top," is a proverbial expression. A top is said to sleep, when it turns round with great velocity, and makes a smooth humming noise. BLACKSTONE. [8] We should read volto. In that is, your grave, solemn looks. 7 English, put on your Castilian countenance; VOL. IV. E |