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T  W  Ii  L  P  T  H      N  I  G  II  T 


ly.  ALDIS  WRIGHT. 


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HENRY     FROWDE 

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Clarcnbon    "jpress    .Scries 

SHAKESPEARE 

SELECT    PLAYS 

Lie  a 
T  W  i:  L  F  T  H      NIGHT 

Or.  \V>IAT  you   WILL 


EDITF.n    PY 


WILLIAM    ALDIS    WRIGHT,   M.A. 

HON.    D.C.  L.    AM>    I.I..  U. 
KFLLOVV.  SKNIKR   BfRSMJ     AM)  \  ICE-MA'^TF  R  CF    THIMIY   ml  I  I  C'      t  \MrKIl>i,h. 


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AT    THE    CLARENDON    PRESS 
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PRINTED     AT    THE     CLARENDON     PRESS 
BY    HORACt:    HART     PRINTKR   TO  THE   UNIVERSITY 


PREFACE. 

It  was  at  one  time  believed  that  Twelfth  Night  was  among 
the  latest  of  Shakespeare's  plays.  The  use  of  the  word 
'undertaker'  in  iii.  4.  301  induced  Tyrwhitt  to  suppose  that 
the  play  was  written  in  1614,  when  this  word  had  an  un- 
enviable notoriety  ;  and  Malone  at  first  adopted  Tyrwhitt's 
opinion,  though  he  afterwards  referred  the  play  to  an  earlier 
date,  1607,  on  account  of  a  supposed  allusion  in  iii.  i.  133 
to  Dekkers  Westward  Ho,  which  was  printed  in  that  year. 
Chalmers  thought  that  the  internal  evidence  pointed  to  the 
year  1613  as  the  date  of  the  composition  of  the  play.  But 
these  various  conclusions,  which  were  arrived  at  from  very 
insufficient  premises,  were  set  aside  by  a  discovery  made  by 
Mr.  Hunter  in  1828  of  a  piece  of  evidence  the  existence  of 
which  had  up  to  that  time  been  unknown.  Among  the  Har- 
leian  MSS.  in  the  British  Museum  is  a  small  duodecimo 
volume  (No.  5353)  containing,  among  other  things,  the  Diary 
of  a  member  of  the  Middle  Temple  from  Jan.  1601-2  to  April 
1603.  Mr.  Hunter's  subsequent  investigations  led  him  to 
identify  the  writer  of  the  Diary  with  John  Manningham, 
who  was  entered  at  the  Middle  Temple  16  March  1597-8, 
and  called  to  the  Bar  7  June  1605.  In  1612,  on  the  death  of 
a  distant  relative,  Richard  Manningham,  a  retired  merchant, 
he  succeeded  to  an  estate  at  Bradbourne,  near  East  Mailing, 
in  Kent,  and  died  in  1622.  The  Diary  was  edited  for  the 
Camden  Society  by  the  late  Mr.  John  Bruce  in  1868  at  the 
cost  of  the  President,  Mr.  (afterwards  Sir)  William  Tite.  The 
only  entry  which  concerns  us  is  the  following  (p.  18),  com- 
pared with  the  original  MS. : — 


VI  PREFACE. 

*  Febr  :   1 60 1 . 

'  2.  At  our  feast  wee  had  a  play  called  Twelue  night  or 
what  you  will,  much  like  the  commedy  of  errores  or 
Menechmi  in  Plautus,  but  most  like  and  neere  to  that  in 
Italian  called  Inganni  a  good  practise  in  it  to  make  the 
steward  beleeue  his  Lady  widdowe  was  in  Loue  with  him  by 
countcrfayting  a  letter,  as  from  his  Lady,  in  generall  termes, 
telling  him  what  sliee  liked  best  in  him,  and  prescribing  his 
gesture  in  smiling  his  apparaile  &c.  And  then  when  he  came 
to  practise  making  him  beleeue  they  tooke  him  to  be  mad.' 

This  brief  description  is  quite  sufficient  to  identify  the  play 
which  was  acted  in  the  Middle  Temple  Hall '  at  the  Readers' 
Feast,  Candlemas  1601-2,  with  the  Twelfth  Night  of  Shake- 
speare, although  the  young  gentleman  who  is  so  familiar  with 
his  Latin  and  Italian  plays  has  not  troubled  himself  to  record, 
if  he  had  ever  heard  it,  the  name  of  the  author.  Collier,  in 
his  History  of  Elnglish  Dramatic  Poetry  (i.  327),  was  the  first 
(1831)  to  publish  this  important  entry.  It  does  not  appear 
whether  he  had  derived  his  knowledge  of  its  existence  from 
Mr.  Hunter,  whose  name  he  does  not  mention  ;  but  it  is 
to  Mr.  Hunter's  investigations  that  we  are  indebted  for  the 
discovery  of  the  diarist's  name,  as  well  as  for  the  identification 
of  the  Italian  play  to  which  he  refers.  (See  New  Illustrations 
of  Shakespeare,  i.  365-400.)  He  shews  that  the  play  which 
Manningham  thought  so  like  Twelfth  Night  was  not  the 
I nganni  of  Secchi  (Florence,  1 562)  or  of  Gonzaga  (Venice,  1 592), 
or  still  less  of  Cornaccini  (Venice,  1604),  although  the  two 
former  might  have  suggested  some  incidents  to  Shakespeare, 
if  he  had  seen  them ;  but  another  comedy  altogether,  acted  at 
Siena  in  1531,  and  printed  at  Venice  as  early  as  1537, 
under  the  title  '  II  Sacrificio  degli  Intronati.'  This  consists 
of  an  Induction,  like  The  Taming  of  the  Shrew,  called  II 
Sacrificio,  and  a  comedy  the  title  of  which  is  Gl'Ingannati,  or 

'  .Shakespeare  in  the  Middle  Temple  is  the  subject  of  an  agreeable 
paper  by  Mr.  Ainger  in  The  English  Illustrated  Magazine  for  /884, 
PP-  i(^(>  17(>- 


PREFACE.  VI 1 

The  Deceived.  The  following  analysis  of  the  stor>'  is  given 
in  Mr.  Hunter's  own  words: — 

'  Fabritio  and  Lelia,  a  brother  and  sister,  are  separated  at 
the  sack  of  Rome,  in  1527.  Lelia  is  carried  to  Modena 
where  resides  Flaminio,  to  whom  she  had  formerly  been 
attached.  Lelia  disguises  herself  as  a  boy,  and  enters  his 
ser%ice.  Flaminio  had  forgotten  Lelia,  and  was  a  suitor  to 
Isabella,  a  Modenese  lady.  Lelia,  in  her  male  attire,  is 
employed  in  love-embassies  from  Flaminio  to  Isabella. 
Isabella  is  insensible  to  the  importunities  of  Flaminio,  but 
conceives  a  violent  passion  for  Lelia.  mistaking  her  for  a 
man.  In  the  third  act  Fabritio  arrives  at  Modena,  where 
mistakes  arise  owing  to  the  close  resemblance  there  is 
between  Fabritio  and  his  sister  in  her  male  attire.  Ultimately 
recognitions  take  place;  the  affections  of  Isabella  are  easily 
transferred  from  Lelia  to  Fabritio,  and  Flaminio  takes  to  his 
bosom  the  affectionate  and  faithful  Lelia.' 

Here  is  undoubtedly  the  plot  of  Twelfth  Night  without  the 
underplot.  An  abridged  translation  of  Gl'Ingannati  was 
published  in  1862  by  Mr.  T.  L.  Peacock,  but  he  appears  to 
have  been  ignorant  of  what  Mr.  Hunter  had  written,  and 
does  not  even  mention  his  name,  although  he  says,  '  It 
seems  strange  that  the  Inganni  should  have  remained  undis- 
covered by  Shakspearian  critics  :  but  the  cause  which  con- 
cealed the  Ingannaii  from  their  researches  is  somewhat 
curious.' 

The  story  on  which  Gl'Ingannati  was  founded  there  can  be 
little  doubt  was  substantially  the  same  as  that  told  by 
Bandello  in  his  Novelle,  parte  II.  nov.  36,  of  which  the 
argument  is  as  follows:  'Nicuola,  innamorata  di  Lattanzio,  va 
a  servirlo  vestita  da  paggio,  e  dopo  molti  casi  seco  si  marita, 
e  cio  che  ad  un  sue  fratello  avvenne.'  Paolo  and  Nicuola, 
brother  and  sister,  were  the  children  of  Ambrogio  Nanni,  a 
merchant  of  Rome,  and  resembled  each  other  so  much  that 
when  dressed  alike  it  was  ver>'  difficult  to  distinguish  them. 
Like  Fabritio  and  Lelia  in  the  play,  they  were  separated  when 


Vlll  PREFACE.  .--^- 

Rome  was  taken  in  1527  ;  and  substituting  Lattanzio  for 
Flaminio,  and  Catella  for  Isabella,  the  plot  of  the  story  in 
Bandello  is  essentially  the  same  as  that  of  the  Ingannati. 

Before  the  discovery  of  Manningham's  Diary  had  directed 
attention  to  an  Italian  play  as  the  origin  of  Twelfth  Night,  it 
was  thought  probable  that  Shakespeare  had  taken  the  main 
outlines  of  his  plo*^  from  the  story  of  Apolonius  and  Silla, 
as  told  by  Barnabe  Riche  in  his  Farewell  to  Militarie  Pro- 
fession, which  was  first  published  in  1581,  and  reprinted  by 
the  Shakespeare  Society  in  1846.  It  appears  to  have  been 
pointed  out  to  Malone  in  1806  by  Mr.  Octavius  Gilchrist.  The 
story  by  itself  was  included  by  Collier  in  his  Shakespeare's 
Library,  and  by  Mr.  W.  C.  Hazlitt  in  his  second  edition  of 
that  book.  In  the  original  work  of  Riche  it  stands  second 
among  the  eight  histories  with  which  the  book  is  enlivened, 
and  is  one  of  five  which,  the  author  says,  '  are  tales  that  are 
but  forged  onely  for  delight,  neither  credible  to  be  beleved, 
nor  hurtful!  to  be  perused,'  He  describes  the  other  three  as 
'  Italian  histories,  written  likewise  for  pleasure  by  Maister 
L.  B.,'  and  apparently  wishes  his  readers  to  infer  that  the 
five  first  mentioned  are  his  own  composition  and  invention. 
However  this  may  be,  although  there  is  a  kind  of  general 
resemblance  in  this  history  to  Bandello's  novel,  it  is  by  no 
means  certain  that  Riche  copied  it.  As  in  the  novel  and  as 
in  Twelfth  Night  there  are  the  brother  and  sister  exactly  alike, 
Silvio  and  Silla,  children  of  Pontus  governor  of  Cyprus. 
Apolonius,  a  worthy  duke  of  Constantinople,  is  wrecked  off 
the  coast  of  Cyprus,  where  he  is  entertained  by  Pontus  and 
unconsciously  engages  the  affections  of  Silla,  who  follows  him 
to  Constantinople  and  dressed  as  a  boy  is  taken  into  his 
service.  Apolonius,  making  suit  to  a  wealthy  widow  julina, 
employs  Silla,  who  calls  herself  by  her  brother's  name  Silvio, 
as  his  messenger.  Julina,  like  Olivia,  falls  in  love  with 
the  pretty  page,  and  bids  him  speak  for  himself  and  no 
longer  for  his  master.  It  is  needless  to  say  that  the  real 
Silvio,  in  search  of  his  sister,  appears  on  the  scene,  and 


PREFACE.  ix 

lulina's  passion,  like  Olivia's,  does  not  distinguish  the  real 
from  the  counterleit.  After  some  incidents  with  which 
Shakespeare  did  not  think  fit  to  disfigure  his  play,  Silla's 
constancy  is  rewarded  by  the  hand  of  Apolonius,  and 
Julina  marries  Silvio.  Apart  from  the  entanglements  brought 
about  by  the  close  resemblance  of  the  brother  and  sister,  and 
the  cross  purposes  which  are  the  inevitable  sequel,  the 
history  of  Apolonius  and  Silla  has  very  little  in  common 
with  the  fortunes  of  Paolo  and  Nicuola  as  narrated  by 
Uandello.  The  incidents  and  surroundings  of  the  plot  are 
entirely  different,  although  the  catastrophe  is  the  same,  and 
it  is  by  no  means  improbable  that  the  story  may  have 
existed  in  a  great  variety  of  forms.  With  one  of  these 
Shakespeare  may  have  been  familiar,  and  it  may  have 
suggested  to  him  some  points  in  his  play  ;  but  whether  he 
became  acquainted  with  the  outline  of  the  story  in  Kiche's 
Farewell  or  in  some  version  of  Bandello's  novel,  it  is  clear 
that  he  took  nothing  but  the  outline,  and  that  all  the  filling 
in  of  the  characters  is  his  own. 

The  plot  of  Gl'Inganni,  the  play  mentioned  by  Manningham, 
is  not  really  like  that  of  Twelfth  Night  or  Bandello's  novel, 
as  may  be  seen  from  the  argument  as  given  by  Collier  in  his 
Introduction  to  the  play.  And  even  if  there  had  been  a  still 
greater  likeness  than  there  really  is,  the  conclusion  at  which 
Dyce  arrived  is  probably  the  true  one.  '  The  resemblance,' 
he  says,  'in  certain  particulars  between  these  Italian 
comedies — especially  Cri/igannati — and  Twelfth  Night  is, 
therefore,  fully  proved  :  but  it  by  no  means  follows  that  the 
foreign  originals  were  used  by  Shakespeare  ;  and,  indeed,  1 
suspect  that  his  knowledge  of  Italian  was  small.  Much  ot 
the  lighter  literature  of  his  time,- -many  a  printed  tale  and 
many  a  manuscript  play,--has  long  ago  perished  :  and 
among  them  may  have  been  some  piece  translated  or 
imitated  from  the  Italian,  which  supplied  him  with  materials 
for  the  serious  parts  of  Tivelfth  Night. 

But  from  whatever  source  Shakespeare  derived  the  general 


X  PREFACE. 

outline  of  his  play,  the  principal  character  in  it  is  unquestion- 
ably his  own  creation.  Even  supposing,  with  Hunter,  that 
the  name  Malvolio  is  '  a  happy  adaptation  from  Malevolti,  a 
character  in  //  Sacrificio^  the  likeness  ends  with  the  name  ; 
and  so  prominent  was  the  part  that  Malvolio  took  in  the 
action  of  the  play  that  we  find  it  was  represented  at  Court  on 
Candlemas  Day  1622-3  by  the  company  to  which  Shake- 
speare had  belonged,  under  the  title  of  Malvolio.  (See 
Mr  Halliwell  [Phillipps]'s  folio  edition  of  Shakespeare,  and 
his  Outlines  of  the  Life  of  Shakespeare,  1881,  p.  149.) 
Moreover,  in  the  copy  of  the  second  Folio  now  at  Windsor 
Castle,  which  formerly  belonged  to  Charles  the  First,  the 
king  has  written  '  Maluolio  '  against  the  title  of  the  play,  as 
if  that  were  the  name  by  which  it  had  become  familiarly 
known.  The  prominence  of  Malvolio  is  further  confirmed 
by  Leonard  Digges  in  his  verses  prefixed  to  the  edition  of 
Shakespeare's  Poems  published  in  1640: 

'  let  but  Beatrice 
And  Benedickc  be  scene,  loe  in  a  trice 
The  Cockpit,  Galleries,  Boxes,  all  are  full 
To  hear  Malvoglio,  that  crosse  garter'd  Gull.' 

It  would  seem  from  this,  either  that  Digges  had  forgotten 
that  Benedick  and  Beatrice  did  not  appear  in  the  same  play 
as  Malvolio,  which  is  scarcely  probable,  or  else  that  Much 
Ado  and  Twelfth  Night  had  been  welded  together  by  some 
playwright  of  the  time  in  the  same  way  as  Davenant  in  his 
Law  against  Lovers  framed  a  strange  centaur  out  of  Measure 
for  Measure  and  Much  Ado.  In  whatever  way  this  may  be 
explained,  it  is  an  evidence  of  the  importance  attached  to  the 
part  of  Malvolio  and  of  the  place  which  it  held  in  popular 
favour^a  part  so  serious  that  the  stately  John  Kemble  thought 
it  no  derogation  from  his  dignity  occasionally  to  play  it. 

When  Campbell  calls  MalvoHo  an  exquisitely  vulgar  cox- 
comb, it  is  difficult  to  say  whether  the  adjective  or  substantive 
in  the  description  is  the  more  inappropriate.     On  this  point 


PREFACE.  XI 

Lamb  is  a  much  better  authority  than  Campbell,  and  this  is 
what  he  says,  writinj,'  in  1822,  '  On  some  of  the  old  Actors.' 

'The  part  of  Malvolio,  in  the  Twelfth   Nij^ht,   was   per- 
formed by  Bensley,  with  a  richness  and  a  dignity,  of  which 
(to  judge  from  some  recent  castings  of  that  character)  the 
very  tradition  must  be  worn  out  from  the  staj^e.  .  .  .  Malvolio 
is   not   essentially   ludicrous.      He   becomes    comic   but   by 
accident.     He  is  cold,  austere,  repelling  ;  but  dignified,  con- 
sistent, and,  for  what  appears,  rather    of  an  over-stretched 
morality.     Maria  describes  him  as  a  sort  of  Puritan;  and 
he  might  have  worn  his  gold  chain  with  honour  in  one  of 
our  old  round-head  families,  in  the  service  of  a  Lambert,  or 
a  Lady  Fairfax.     But  his  morality  and  his  manners  are  mis- 
placed in  Illyria.     He  is  opposed  to  the  proper  /critics  of  the 
piece,  and  falls  in  the  unequal  contest.     Still  his  pride,  or  his 
gravity,  (call  it  which  you  will)  is  inherent,  and  native  to  the 
man,  not  mock  or  affected,  which  latter  only  are  the  fit  objects 
to  excite  laughter.     His  quality  is  at  the  best  unlovely,  but 
neither  buffoon  nor  contemptible.     His  bearing  is  lofty,  a 
little  above  his  station,  but  probably  not  much  above  his 
deserts.     We  see  no  reason  why  he  should  not  have  been 
brave,  honourable,  accomplished.     His   careless   committal 
of  the  ring  to  the  ground  (which  he  was  commissioned  to 
restore  to  Cesario),  bespeaks  a  generosity  of  birth  and  feel- 
ing.    His  dialect  on  all  occasions  is  that  of  a  gentleman,  and 
a  man  of  education.     We  must  not  confound  him  with  the 
eternal  old,  low  steward  of  comedy.     He  is  master  of  the 
household  to  a  great  Princess  ;  a  dignity  conferred  upon  him 
for  other  respects  than  age  or  length  of  service.    Olivia,  at  the 
first  indication  of  his  supposed  madness,  declares  that  she 
"  would  not  have  him  miscarry  for  half  of  her  dowry."     Does 
this  look  as  if  the  character  was  meant  to  appear  little  or  insig- 
nificant?   Once,   indeed,  she  accuses   him  to   his  face — of 
what  ?— of  being  "  sick  of  self-lo\e,"— but  with  a  gentleness 
and  considerateness  which  could  not  have  been,  if  she  had 
not  thought  that  this  particular  infirmity  shaded  some  virtues. 


Xll  PREFACE. 

His  rebuke  to  the  knight,  and  his  sottish  revellers,  is  sensible 
and  spirited  ;  and  when  we  take  into  consideration  the  un- 
protected condition  of  his  mistress,  and  the  strict  regard 
with  which  her  state  of  real  or  dissembled  mourning  would 
draw  the  eyes  of  the  world  upon  her  house-affairs,  Mal- 
volio  might  feel  the  honour  of  the  family  in  some  sort  in  his 
keeping  ;  as  it  appears  not  that  Olivia  had  any  more  brothers, 
or  kinsmen,  to  look  to  it— for  Sir  Toby  had  dropped  all  such 
nice  respects  at  the  buttery  hatch.  That  Malvolio  was  meant 
to  be  represented  as  possessing  estimable  qualities,  the  ex- 
pression of  the  Duke  in  his  anxiety  to  have  him  reconciled, 
almost  infers.  "  Pursue  him,  and  entreat  him  to  a  peace." 
Even  in  his  abused  state  of  chains  and  darkness,  a  sort  of 
greatness  never  seems  to  desert  him.  He  argues  highly  and 
well  with  the  supposed  Sir  Topas,  and  philosophises  gallantly 
upon  his  straw.  There  must  have  been  some  shadow  of  worth 
about  the  man  ;  he  must  have  been  something  more  than 
a  mere  vapour — a  thing  of  straw,  or  Jack  in  office — before 
Fabian  and  Maria  could  have  ventured  to  send  him  upon  a 
courting-errand  to  Olivia.  There  was  some  consonancy  (as 
he  would  say)  in  the  undertaking,  or  the  jest  would  have 
been  too  bold  even  for  that  house  of  misrule. 

'  Bensley,  accordingly,  threw  over  the  part  an  air  of  Spanish 
loftiness.  He  looked,  spake,  and  moved  like  an  old  Castilian. 
He  was  starch,  spruce,  opinionated,  but  his  superstructure  of 
pride  seemed  bottomed  upon  a  sense  of  worth.  There  was 
something  in  it  beyond  the  coxcomb.  It  was  big  and  swelling, 
but  you  could  not  be  sure  that  it  was  hollow.  You  might 
wish  to  see  it  taken  down,  but  you  felt  that  it  was  upon  an 
elevation.  He  was  magnificent  from  the  outset ;  but  when 
the  decent  sobrieties  of  the  character  began  to  give  way,  and 
the  poison  of  self-love,  in  his  conceit  of  the  Countess's  af- 
fection, gradually  to  work,  you  would  have  thought  that  the 
hero  of  La  Mancha  in  person  stood  before  you.  How  he 
went  smiling  to  himself!  with  what  ineffable  carelessness 
would  he  twirl  his  gold  chain  !    what  a  dream  it  was !  you 


PREFACE.  xiii 

were  infected  witli  the  illusion,  and  did  not  wish  that  it  should 
be  removed  !  you  had  no  room  for  laughter  !  if  an  unseason- 
able reflection  of  morality  obtruded  itself,  it  was  a  deep 
sense  of  the  pitiable  infirmity  of  man's  nature,  that  can  lay 
him  open  to  such  frenzies — but  in  truth  you  rather  ad- 
mired than  pitied  the  lunacy  while  it  lasted — you  felt  that 
an  hour  of  such  mistake  was  worth  an  age  with  the  eyes  open. 
Who  would  not  wish  to  live  but  for  a  day  in  the  conceit  of  such 
a  lady's  love  as  Olivia  ?  Why,  the  Duke  would  have  given  his 
principality  but  for  a  quarter  of  a  minute,  sleeping  or  waking, 
to  have  been  so  deluded.  The  man  seemed  to  tread  upon  air, 
to  taste  manna,  to  walk  with  his  head  in  the  clouds,  to  mate 
Hyperion.  O  !  shake  not  the  castles  of  his  pride — endure  yel 
for  a  season  bright  moments  of  confidence—"  stand  still,  ye 
watches  of  the  element,"  that  Malvolio  may  be  still  in  fancy 
fair  Olivia's  lord — but  fate  and  retribution  say  no  - 1  hear  the 
mischievous  titter  of  Maria — the  witty  taunts  of  Sir  Toby — 
the  still  more  insupportable  triumph  of  the  foolish  knight — 
the  counterfeit  Sir  Topas  is  unmasked — and  "  thus  the  whirli- 
gig of  time,''  as  the  true  clown  hath  it,  "brings  in  his  revenges.'' 
I  confess  that  1  never  saw  the  catastrophe  of  this  character, 
while  Bensley  played  it,  without  a  kind  of  tragic  interest.' 

All  this,  having  eyes,  could  Charles  Lamb  see  in  what 
Pepys  (6  Jan.  1662-3)  thought  'but  a  silly  play';  (20  Jan. 
1668-9)  '  o"6  of  the  weakest  plays  '  that  ever  he  saw  on  the 
stage  ;  and  in  which  (i  i  Sept.  1661 1  he  'took  no  pleasure  at 
all.' 

In  one  point  however  Pepys  was  right.  He  complains 
that  the  play  was  '  not  related  at  all  to  the  name  or  day,' 
when  he  saw  it  on  Twelfth  Night,  1662-3.  Hut  the  fact  that 
it  was  the  custom  to  play  it  on  Twelfth  Night  makes  it  prob- 
able that  it  derived  its  name  from  being  performed  for  the 
first  time,  as  Mr.  Halliwell-Phillipps  conjectures,  on  Twelfth 
Night  1602.  He  argues  that  it  could  not  have  been  written 
long  before  the  time  at  which  Manningham  saw  it  in  the 
Middle  Temple  Hall,  because  the  song  'Farewell,  dear  heart, 


XIV^  PREFACE. 

since  I  must  needs  be  gone,'  of  which  fragments  are  sung  in 
Act  ii.  Scene  3,  first  appeared  in  1601  in  the  Booke  of  Ayres 
composed  by  Robert  Jones  (Outlines,  1881,  p.  148).  He 
conjectures  that  Twelfth  Night  was  one  of  the  four  plays 
which  were  acted  at  Whitehall,  where  the  Queen  kept  her 
Court  at  Christmas  1601-2,  by  the  Lord  Chamberlain's  com- 
pany to  which  Shakespeare  belonged  (Outlines,  4th  ed.  p.  162). 
There  is  no  violent  improbability  in  the  further  supposition 
tiiat  the  same  company  may  ha\e  been  engaged  at  the 
Readers'  Feast  on  Candlemas  Day  following,  and  that  Shake- 
speare himself  may  have  been  one  of  the  actors,  and  have  had 
his  share  in  the  ^^lo  which  was  paid  them  for  the  play.  If  any 
argument  can  be  derived  from  internal  evidence,  it  is  rather 
in  favour  of  Christmas  as  the  time  of  the  first  production  of 
Twelfth  Night;  and  Sir  Andrew's  resolve  (i.  3.  122)  to  stay  a 
month  longer,  in  order  to  take  part  in  the  masques  and  revels 
which  werecoming  on,  seems  to  point  in  this  direction.  We  may 
therefore  conclude,  without  much  misgiving,  that  the  play  was 
performed  for  the  first  time  early  in  1601-2,  and  probably  on 
Twelfth  Night.  That  Ben  Jonson,  in  Every  Man  out  of  his 
Humour,  which  was  played  at  the  Globe  by  the  same  com- 
pany in  1599,  ridiculed  the  conduct  of  Twelfth  Night,  as 
Steevens  maintained,  is  therefore  chronologically  impossible, 
and  the  theory  is  unsupported  by  the  only  passage  brought  for- 
ward in  its  favour.  In  Act  iii.  sc.  i,  Mitis  is  made  to  say, 
*  That  the  argument  of  his  comedy  might  have  been  of  some 
other  nature,  as  of  a  duke  to  be  in  love  with  a  countess,  and 
that  countess  to  be  in  love  with  the  duke's  son,  and  the  son 
to  love  the  lady's  waiting-maid  ;  some  such  cross  wooing,  with 
a  clown  to  their  serving-man,  better  than  be  thus  near,  and 
familiarly  allied  to  the  time.'  It  is  obvious  that  nothing  but 
an  obstinate  determination  to  maintain  a  theory  at  all  hazards 
could  have  induced  Steevens  to  bring  forward  this  passage  as 
a  proof  of  Ben  Jonson's  hostility  to  Shakespeare. 

In  the  Transactions  of  the    New  Shakspere   Society  for 
1877-9    (part   ii.    pp.    173-5),    ^'^^-   I^aniel    has    shewn    that 


PREFACE.  \V 

tlie  time  of  the  action  of  Twelfth  Night  is  limited  to  three 
days,  with  an  interval  of  three  clays  between  the  first  and 
second  of  these  : 

Day  I.     Act  i.  sc.  1-3. 

Interval  of  three  days.     See  i.  4.  3. 

Day  2.     Act  i.  sc.  4 — Act  ii.  sc.  3. 

Day  3.  Act  ii.  sc.  4 — end. 
He  also  points  out  some  inconsistencies  in  the  last  act, 
which  may  have  been  due  to  haste  on  the  part  of  the  author 
in  finishing  the  play.  For  instance,  in  v.  i.  88  Antonio 
claims  that  for  three  months  Sebastian  had  been  inseparable 
from  him,  and  in  like  manner  the  Duke  says  of  Viola, 

'Three  months  this  youth  hath  tended  upon  me' — 

whereas  it  is  evident  that  Sebastian  and  Viola  had  both  been 
rescued  from  shipwreck  at  the  same  time,  the  time  namely  at 
which  the  play  opens,  and  that  between  Act  i.  sc.  4  and  the 
beginning  of  the  play  there  was  an  interval  of  only  three 
days,  while  the  whole  action  of  the  play  cannot  extend  over 
more  than  six  days.  It  is  worth  while  calling  attention  to 
such  trifling  discrepancies  if  only  because  they  indicate  the 
rapidity  and  even  haste  with  which  Shakespeare  wrote.  (See 
Preface  to  As  You  Like  It,  p.  vi.) 

The  late  Mr.  James  Spedding  (Transactions  of  the  New 
Shakspere  Society,  1877-9,  PP-  -4,  25)  proposed  a  new  division 
of  Twelfth  Night  into  Acts,  on  the  ground  that  in  the  present 
arrangement  'the  effect  is  materially  injured  on  two  occasions 
by  the  interposition  of  them  in  the  wrong  place. 

'  At  the  end  of  the  first  Act  Malvolio  is  ordered  to  run  after 
Cesario  with  Olivia's  ring ;  in  the  second  scene  of  the 
second  Act  he  has  but  just  overtaken  him.  "  Were  you  not 
e7>en  now  (he  says)  with  the  Countess  Olivia?"  "Even  now, 
sir  (she  answers),  on  a  moderate  pace  I  have  since  arrived 
but  hither."  Here  therefore  the  pause  is  worse  than  useless. 
It  impedes  the  action,  and  turns  a  light  and  swift  movement 
into  a  slow  and  heavy  one. 


XV]  PREFACE. 

'Again,  at  the  end  of  the  third  Act  Sir  Andrew  Aguecheek 
runs  after  Cesario  (who  has  just  left  the  stage)  to  beat  him  ; 
Sir  Toby  and  Fabian  following  to  see  the  event.  At  the 
beginning  of  the  fourth,  they  are  all  where  they  were.  Sir 
Andrew's  valour  is  still  warm  ;  he  meets  Sebastian,  mistakes 
him  for  Cesario,  and  strikes.  Here  again  the  pause  is  not 
merely  unnecessary ;  it  interrupts  what  was  evidently  meant 
for  a  continuous  and  rapid  action,  and  so  spoils  the  fun.' 

Mr.  Sped  ding  therefore  proposed  the  following  division  : 

First  Act.     i.  i — 4. 
Second  Act.     i.  5 — ii.  2. 
Third  Act.     ii.  3 — iii.  i. 
Fourth  Act.     iii.  2— iv.  3. 
Fifth  Act.     V. 

The  second  title,  What  you  Will,  may  possibly  have  been 
Shakespeare's  expression  of  indifference  when  asked  what  the 
play  should  be  called. 

W.  A.  W. 

2  A/arc/i   1885. 


Twi'.Lr'rii  xi(;nT; 

OR.  WHAT  voir  WILL. 


I -RAM  AT  IS  PERbON.E. 


t  (KsiNn,  Duke  of  Illyri.i. 
SenA^^TIAN.  brother  to  Viola. 
A.NTONio.  a  sea  captain,  friend  to  Se- 
bastian. 
A  Sea  Captain,  friend  to  Viola. 
Valentine,  i  gentlemen  attending  on 
Curio,  (  the  Duke. 

Sir  Tdbv  Belch,  uncle  to  Olivia. 
Sir  A.vdrew  Ar.L'ECHEEK. 
Malvulio,  steward  to  Olivia. 


F™k  clown,  l^^^'-^'^'^O'!-'- 

Olivia. 

Viola. 

Maria,  Olivia's  woman. 

Lords,  Priests,  Sailors.  Officers,  Musi- 
cians and  other  .Attendants. 

Scene  :  A  city  in  lUyria,  aud  the  sea- 
coat  t  near  it. 


ACT   I. 

Scene  L     T/te  Dvkk's />a/tice. 

Enter  DUKE,  CuRlO,  and  other  Lords  ;    Musicians 

attending. 

Duke.     If  music  be  the  food  sJT  love.t  play  on  ; 
C.ive  me  excess  of  it,  that,  surfeiting', 
The  appetite  may  sicken,  and  so  die. 
That  strain  again  !    it  had  a  dying  fall  : 
O,  it  came  o'er  my  ear  like  the  sweet  sound, 
That  breathes  upon  a  bank  of  violets, 
.Stealing  and  giving  odour !     Enough  ;   no  more  : 
'Tis  not  so  sweet  now  as  it  was  before. 
O  spirit  of  love !    how  quick  'and  fresh  art  thou, 
That,  notwithstanding  thy  capacity 
Receivcth  as  the  sea,  nought  enters  there, 
Of  what  validity  and  pitch  soe'er. 
But  falls  into  abatement  and  low  price, 
Even  in  a  minute  ;    so  full  of  shapes  is  fancy 
That  it  alone  is  high  fantastical; 


lO 


2  TWELFTH   NIGHT. 

Citr.     Will  you  go  hunt,  my  lord  ? 

Duke.  '  What,  Curio  ? 

Ctir,     The  hart. 

Duke.     Why,  so  I  do,  the  noblest  that  I  have  : 
O,  when  mine  eyes  did  see  Olivia  first, 
Methought  she  purged  the  air  of  pestilence  !  20 

That  instant  was  I  turn'd  into  a  hart  ; 
And  my  desires,  like  fell  and  cruel  hounds, 
E'er  since  pursue  me. 

Enter  Valentine. 

How  now  !    what  news  from  her  ? 

Val.     So  please  my  lord,  I  might  not  be  admitted  ; 
But  from  her  handmaid  do  return  this  answer  : 
The  iejement  itself,  till  seven  years'  heat,  > 
Shall  not  behold  her  face  (git  ample  viewT) 
But,  like  a  ^cloistress,  )she  will  veiled  walk 
And  water  once  a  day  her  chamber  round 
With  eye-ofifending  brine  :    all  this  to  season  30 

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 
X  !To  pay  this  debt  t)f^ove--b«4.-tClL_aJ^rotil£i:, 
jHow_will_sheJove,  when  the  rich  golden  shaft 
Hath  kill'd  the  flocIc~of~ait''afiections  else    "~ 
That  live  in  her  ;   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  :  40 

Love-thoughts  lie  rich  when  canopied  with  bowers. 

{^Exeunt. 

Scene  II.     The  sea-coast. 

Enter  ViOLA,  a  Captain,  and  Sailors. 

Vio.     What  country,  friends,  is  this  ? 
Cap.     This  is  Illyria,  lady. 


ACT   1.    SCENE   IT.  3 

Via.     And  what  should  I  do  in  Illyria? 
My  brother  he  is  in  Klysium. 
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  those  poor  number  saved  with  ymi         10 
Hung  on  our  driving;  boat,  I  saw  your  brother. 
Most  provident  in  peril,  bind  himself, 
Courage  and  hope  both  teaching  him  the  practice, 
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,  20 

The  like  of  him.     Know'st  thou  this  country .'' 

Cap.    Ay,  madam,  well ;   for  I  was  bred  and  bornj 
Not  three  hours'  travel  from  this  very  place. 

Vio.     Who  governs  here  .'' 

Cap.     A  noble  duke,  in  nature  as  in  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  ;\  30 

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  01ivui_. 

Vio.     What 's  she  ? 

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

B  2 


I 


4  TWELFTH  NIGHT. 

In  the  pritection  of  his  son,  her  brother, 
Who  sho/tly  also  died  :  Jor  jvvhose  dear  love, 
TheY_say.,, she  hath  abjured  the  company  4c 

■^  I  And_siglit..jQf  men — 

Vuh  O  that  I  served  that  lady 

And  might  not  bevdeliveredfto  the  world, 
Till   1  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  50 

With  this  thy  fair  and  outward  character. 
I  prithee,  and  I  '11  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  '11  serve  this  duke  : 
Thou  shalt  present  me  as  an  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  jme  very  worth  his  service. 
What  else  mayQiap)to  time  I  will  commit;  60 

Only  shape  thou  thy  silence  to  my  wit. 

Cap.     Be  you  his  eunuch,  and  your  mute  I  '11  be  : 
When  my  tongue  blabs,  then  let  mine  eyes  not  see. 

Vio.     I  thank  thee  :   lead  me  on.  {^Exeunt. 

Scene  III.    Olivl^'s  house. 
Enter  Sir  Toby  Belch  and  Maria. 

Sir  To.  What  a  plague  means  my  niece,  to  take  the 
death  of  her  brother  thus.?  1  am  sure  care's  an  enemy 
to  life. 


ACT  I.    aCEAE   111.  ^ 

Mar.  I  By  my  troth.^  Sir  Toby,  you  must  omc  in  carlior 
o' nightsVyour  cousin,  my  lady,  takes  yrcat  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  !  1  '11  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. 

/I/a/-.  1  hat  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  Aguecheek  } 

Mar.     Ay,  he. 

Sir  To.     He's 'as  tall  a  man  as  any's  in  Illyria. 

Mar.     What's  that  to  the  purpose.'  zo 

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

Mar.     Ay,  but  he  'II  have  but  a  year  in  all  these  ducats  :) 
he 's  a  very  fool  and  a  prodigal. 

Sir  To.  Fie,  that  you  '11  say  so  !  he  plays  o(the  viol-dc- 
gamboysNand  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  tiuarrelling. 
'tis  thought  among  the  prudent  he  would  «iuickly  have  the 
gift  of  a  grave.  5 1 

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  nightly  m 
your  company. 

Sir  To.  With  drinking  healths  to  my  niece  :  1  'II  drink 
to  her  as  long  as  there  is  a  passage  in  my  throat  and  drink 
in  Illyria  :  he  s  a  coward  and  acoystrill  that  will  not  drink 


6  TWELFTH  NIGHT. 

to  my  niece  till  his  brains  turn  o'  the  toe  like  a  parish-top. 
What,  wench  I  Castiliano  vulgo  !  for  here  comes  Sir  Andrew 
Agueface.  4 1 

Enter  SiR  Andrew  Aguecheek. 
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  A}td.     What's  that? 
Sir  To.     My  niece's  chambermaid. 

Sir  And.  Good  Mistress/Accost^  desire  better  acquaint- 
ance. ^  50 

Mar.     My  name  is  Mary,  sir. 

Sir  And.     Good  Mistress  Mary  Accost, — 

Sir  To.  You  mistake,  knight  :  '  accost '  is  front  her, 
Mjoard  herjAwoo  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 
mightst  never  draw  sword  again.  59 

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,  sweet-heart  ?  what 's  your  metaphor  ? 

Mar.     It 's  dry,  sir. 

Sir  And.  Why,  I  think  so  :  1  am  not  such  an  ass  but  I 
can  keep  my  hand  dry.     But  what 's  your  jest  ?  71 


ACT    I.    SCEXE   III.  7 

Mar.     Avdryjjest,  sir. 

Sir  Aftd.    Arc  you  full  of  them  ? 

Mar.  Ay,  sir,  I  have  them  at  my  fingers'  ends  :  marry, 
now  I  let  go  your  hand,  1  am^barren.  [E.vtt. 

Sir  To.  O  knighl,  thou  'ackcst  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  I  believe  that  docs  harm  to  my  wit. 

Sir  To.     No  question.  82 

Sir  And.  An  I  thought  that,  1  Id  forswear  it.  I  'II  ride 
home  to-morrow.  Sir  Toby. 

Sir  To.     Pourquoi,  my  dear  knight  .■" 

Sir  And.  What  is  'pourquoi'.''  do  or  not  do.'  1  would 
I  had  bestowed  that  time  in  the  tongues  that  1  have  in 
fencing,  dancing  and  bear-baiting  :  O,  had  I  but  followed 
the  arts !  89 

Sir  To.     Then  hadst  thou  had  an  excellent  head  of  hair. 

Sir  And.     Why,  would  that  have  mended  my  hair .'' 

Sir  To.  Past  question  ;  for  thou  seest  it  will  not  curl  by 
nature. 

Sir  And.     But  it  becomes  me  well  enough,  does  't  not  ? 

Sir  To.     Excellent  ;    it  hangs  like  flax  on  a  distaff. 

Sir  And.  Faith,  I  1!  home  to-morrow,  Sir  Toby  :  your 
niece  will  not  be  seen  ;  or  if  she  be,  it's  four  to  one ■^e '11 
none  of  mej)  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 
hcrswear't.     Tut,4here's  life  in 'L)man.  lor 

Sir  And.  I  '11  stay  a  month  longer.  1  am  a  fellow  o'  the 
strangest  mind  i'  the  world  ;  I  delight  in  masques  and  revels 
sometimes  altogether. 

Sir  To.     Art  thou  good  at  these  kickshawses,  knight .' 

Sir  And.    As  any  man  in  lllyria,  whatsoever  he  be,  under 


8  TWELFTH   NIGHT. 

the  degree  of  my  betters  ;  and  yet  I  will  not  compare  with 
an  old  man. 

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

St'r  And.     Faith,  I  can  cut  a  caper.     ^  no 

St'r  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. 

Sir  To.  Wherefore  are  these  things  hid  ?  wherefore  have 
these  gifts  a  curtain  before  'em  ?  are  theyjike  jto  take  dust, 
like  Mistress  Mall's  picture  ?  why  dost  thou  not  go  to  church 
in  a  galliard  and  come  home  in  a  coranto  Ij  My  very  walk 
should  be  a  jig.  What  dost  thou  mean  ?  Is'tt  a  world  to  hide 
virtues  in.'  I  did  think,  by  the  excellent  constitution  of  thy 
leg,  it  was  formed  under  the  star  of  a  galliard.  120 

Sir  And.  Ay,  'tis  strong,  and  it  does  indifferent  well  in  a 
flame-coloured  stock.;    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.     The  Duke's  palace. 
Enter  Valentine,  and  \'iol\  in  man''s  attire. 

Val.  If  the  duke  continue  these  favours  towards  you, 
Cesario,  you  are  like  to  be  much  advanced  :  lie  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. 

Vio.     I  thank  you.     Here  comes  the  count. 

Enter  Duke,  Curio,  and  Attendants. 
Duke.     Who  saw  Cesario,  ho  ? 


ACT   I.    SCENE    IV.  9 

I'hi.     On  your  attendance,  my  lord;    here.  lo 

Duke.     Stand  )oii  a  while  aloof.     Ccsario, 
Thou  know'st  no  less  but  all  ;  \  have   unclasp'd 
To  thee  the  book.ievcn  of  my  secret  soul  : 
Therefore,  good  youth,  address  thy  gait  unto  her  ; 
Be  not  denied  access,  stand  at  her  doors. 
And  tell  them,  there  thy  fi.xed  foot  shall  grow 
Till  thou  have  audience. 

Via.  .Sure,  my  noble  lord, 

If  she  be  so  abandon'd  to  her  sorrow- 
As  it  isvapokc,"',  she  never  will  admit  me. 

Duke.     Re  clamorous  and  leap  ^1  civil  bounds^;         ;:o 
Rather  than  make  unprofitcd  return. 

Vic.     Say  I   do  speak  with  her,  my  lord,  what  then  't 

Duke.     O,  then  unfold  the  passion  of  my  love, 
Surprise  her  with  discourse  of  my  dear  faith  : 
It  shall  become  thee  well  to  act  my  woes  ; 
She  will  attend  ij^better  in  thy  youth 
Than  in  a  nuncio's  of  more  grave  aspect. 

Vio.     1   think  not  so,  my  lord. 

Duke.  Dear  lad,  believe  it  ; 

For  they  shall  yet  belie  thy  happy  years, 
That  say  thou  art  a  man  :    Diana's  lip  30 

Is  not  more  smooth  and  i^rubious^,;    thy'jmall  pipe 
Is  as  the  maiden's  organ,  shrill  and  sound, 
And  all  is  (gemblativc )  a  woman's  part. 
I  know^hy  constellation'  is  right  apt 
For  this  affair.     Some  four  or  five  attend  him  ; 
.All.  if  you  will  ;    for   I   myself  am  best 
When  least  in  company.     I'rospc-r  well  in  this, 
And  thou  shalt  live  as  freely  as  thy  lord 
To  call  his  fortunes  thine. 

Vio.  1  '11  do  my  best         v 

To  woo  your  lady:    \Aside\  yet,  ^a  barful  strifcj/  )0 

Whoe'er  I  woo,  myself  would  be  his  wife.  \E.uunt. 


10  TWELFTH  NIGHT. 

Scene  V.     Olivias  house. 
Enter  Maria  and  Clown. 

Mar.  Nay,  either  tell  me  where  thou  hast  been,  or  I  will 
not  open  my  lips  so  wide  as  a  bristle  may  enter  m  way  of 
thy  excuse  :  my  lady  will  hang  thee  for  thy  absence. 

Clo.  Let  her  hang  me  :  he  that  is  well  hanged  in  this 
world  needs{io  fear  no  colours^) 

Mar.     Make  that  good. 

Clo.     He  shall  see  none  to  fear. 

Mar,  A  good^ienten  )answer  :  I  can  tell  thee  where  that 
saying  was  bom,  of  •  I  fear  no  colours.' 

Clo.     Where,  good  ^listress  Mary  ?  lo 

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

Clo.  Well,  God  give  them  wisdom  that  have  it  ;  and 
those  that  are  fools,  let  them  use  their  talents. 

Mar.  Yet  you  will  be  hanged  for  being  so  long  absent  ; 
or,  to  be  turned  away,  is  not  that  as  good  as  a  hanging  to 
you  ? 

Clo.  Many  a  good  hanging  prevents  a  bad  marriage  ; 
and,  for  turning  away,  let  summer  bear  it  out. 

Mar.     You  are  resolute,  then?  20 

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  Raskins  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  hesLj     [E.ii7. 

Clo.  Wit,  ant  be  thy  will,  put  me  into  good  fooling  ! 
Those  wits,  that  think  they  have  thee,  do  very  oft  prove 
fools  :  and  I,  that  am  sure  I  lack  thee,  may  pass  for  a  wise 


ACT   I.    SCENE    V.  II 

man  :  for  what  says  Ouinapalus?     'Better  a  witty  fool  than 
a  fooHsh  wit.'  j3 

Enter  Lady  Olivia  iL'ilh  Mai.volio. 

God  bless  thee,  lady  1 

Oli.     Take  the  fool  awa). 

Clo.     Do  you  not  hear,  fellows  ?     Take  away  the  lady. 

Oli.  Go  to,  you're  a^^dry)fool;  I'll  no  more  of  you: 
besides,  you  grow  dishonest. 

Clo.  Two  fault-,  madonna^' that  drink  and  good  counsel 
will  amend  :  for  give  the  dry  fool  drink,  then  is  the  fool  not 
dry  :  bid  the  dishonest  man  mend  himself;  if  he  mend,  he 
is  no  longer  dishonest  ;  if  he  cannot,  let  the  botcher  mend 
him.  Any  thing  that 's  mended  is  but  patched  :  virtue  that 
transgresses  is  but  patched  with  sin  ;  and  sin  that  amends 
is  but  patched  with  virtue.  If  that  this  simple  syllogism  will 
serve,  so  ;  if  it  will  not,  what  remedy  ?  As  there  is  no  true 
cuckold  but  calamity,  so  beauty's  a  flower.  The  lady  bade 
take  away  the  fool  ;  therefore,  I  say  again,  take  her  away. 

Oli.     Sir,   I   bade  them  take  away  you.  4y 

Clo.C  Misprisionjin  the  highest  degree!     Lady,  cucullus 
non  faclt  monachum  ;  that 's  as  much  to  say  as  I  wear  not 
y^motleyin  my  brain.    Good  madonna,  give  me  leave  to  prove 
you  a  fool. 

Oli.  Can  you  do  it  ? 

Clo.  De.xteriously,  good  madonna. 

Oli.  Make  your  proof. 

Clo.  I   must  catechize  you  for  it,  madonna :   good  my 

mouse  of  virtue,  answer  me. 

Oli.  Well,  sir,  for  want  of  other  idleness,  I  11  bide  your 

proof.  60 

Clo.  (jood  madonna,  why  muurnest  thou  ? 

Oli.  ( .ood  fool,  for  my  brother's  death. 

Clo.  I  think  his  soul  is  in  hell,  madonna. 

Oli.  1  know  his  soul  is  in  heaven,  fool. 


12  TWELFTH  NIGHT. 

Clo.  The  more  fool,  madonna,  to  mourn  for  your  brother's 
soul  being  in  heaven.     Take  away  the  fool,  gentlemen. 

OH.  What  think  you  of  this  fool,  Malvolio  1  doth  he  not 
mend  ? 

Mai.  Yes,  and  shall  do,  till  the  pangs  of  death  shake 
him  :  infirmity,  that  decays  the  wise,  doth  ever  make  the 
better  fool.  7 1 

Clo.  God  send  you,  sir,  a  speedy  infirmity,  for  the  better 
increasing  your  folly !  Sir  Toby  will  be  sworn  that  I  am  no 
fox  ;  but  he  will  not  pass  his  word  for  two  pence  that  you  are 
no  fool. 

Oli.     How  say  you  to  that,  Malvolio? 

Mai.  I  marvel  your  ladyship  takes  delight  in  such  a 
barren  rascal :  I  saw  him  put  down  the  other  day  with  an 
ordinary  fool  that  has  no  more  brain  than  a  stone.  Look 
you  now,  he 's  out  of  his  gug,rd  already  ;  unless  you  laugh 
and  minister  occasion  to  him,  he  is  gagged.  I  protest,  I 
take  these  wise  men,  that  crow  so  at  these  set  kind  of  fools, 
no  better  than  the  fools'  zanies.  ^3 

Oil.  O,  you  are  sick  of  self-love^  Malvolio,  and  taste  with 
a  (^istempered  )ap'petTEeI  To  be  generous,  guiltless  and  of 
free  disposition,  is  to  take  those  things  for  bird-bolts  that 
you  deem  cannon-bullets  :  there  is  no  .slander  in  an  allowed 
fool,  though  he  do  nothing  but  rail  ;  nor  no  railing  in  a 
kno'wn  discreet  man,  though  he  do  nothing  but  reprove. 

Clo.  Now  Mercury  endue  thee  with  leasing,  for  thou 
speakest  well  of  fools  !  9  ^ 

Re-enter  Maria. 

Mar.  Madam,  there  is  at  the  gate  a  young  gentleman 
much  desires  to  speak  with  you. 

Oli.     From  the  Count  Orsino,  is  it  ? 

Mar.  1  know  not,  madam  :  'tis  a  fair  young  man,  and 
well  attended. 

Oli.     Who  of  my  people '.hold  him  in  delay .'' 

Mar.     Sir    Toby,  madam,  your  kinsman. 


ACT   T.    SCF.SF    W  13 

G/i.  Fetcn  him  off,  1  pray  you  ;  he  speaks  nothiiiL;  but 
madman:  fie  on  him'.  {Exit  Marui.]  ('.<»  you,  MalvoHo  : 
if  it  be  a  suit  from  the  count,  1  am  sick,  or  not  at  home  ; 
what  you  will,  to  dismiss  it.  [AV//  Miil-i'olio.]  Now  you 
see,  sir,  how  your  fooling  grows  old,  and  people  dislike  it. 

Clo.  Thou  hast  spoke  for  us,  madonna,  as  if  thy  eklcsv 
son  should  be  a  fool  ;  whose  skull  Jove  cram  with  brains, 
for, — here  he  comes, — one  of  thy  kin  has  a  most  weak  pia 
mater. 

Enter  Sir  Toi;v. 

Oli.  By  mine  honour,  half  drunk.  What  is  he  at  the  gate, 
cousin  ? 

Sir  To.     A  gentleman.  1 10 

Oli.     A  gentleman  !    what  gentleman  .'' 

Sir  To.  'Tis  a  gentleman  here — a  plague  o"  these  pickle- 
herring  !     How  now,  sot  ! 

Clo.     Good  Sir  Toby! 

Oii.  Cousin,  cousin,  how  have  you  come  so  early  by  this 
lethargy-  ? 

Sir  To.  Lechery !  J  defy  lechery.  There  's  one  at  the 
gate. 

Oli.     Ay,  marr)',  what  is  he?  119 

Sir  To.  Let  him  be  the  devil,  an  he  will,  I  care  not  : 
give  me  faith,  say  I.     Well,  it 's  all  one.  {Exit. 

Oli.     What 's  a  drunken  man  like,  fool  ? 

Clo.  Like  a  drowned  man,  a  fool  and  a  mad  man  :  one 
draught  above  heat  makes  him  a  fool  ;  the  second  mads 
him  ;  and  a  third  drowns  him, 

Oli.  Go  thou  and  seek  the  crowner,^  and  let  him  sit  o' 
my  coz  ;  for  he's  in  the  third  degree  of  drink,  he's  drowned  : 
go  look  after  him. 

Clo.  He  is  but  mad  yet,  madonna  ;  and  the  fool  shall 
look  to  the  madman.  [Exit. 

Re-enter  Malvolio. 
Afal.     Madam,  yond  young  fellow  swears  he  will  ij.cak 


14  TWELFTH  NIGHT. 

with  you.  I  told  him  you  were  sick  ;  he  (takes  on  him  to 
understand  so  much,  and  therefore  comes  to  speak  with 
you.  I  told  him  you  were  asleep  ;  he  seems  to  have  a  fore- 
knowledge of  that  too,  and  therefore  comes  to  speak  with 
you.  What  is  to  be  said  to  him,  lady?  he's  fortified 
against  any  denial. 

Oil.     Tell  him  he  shall  not  speak  with  me. 

Mai.  '< Has-been  told  so  ;  and  he  says,  he'll  stand  at  your 
door  like  a  'i^heriff's  post,iand  be  the  supporter  to  a  bench, 
but  he'll  speak  with  you.  141 

Oli.     What  kind  o'  man  is  he .'' 

Mai.     Why,  of  mankind. 

On.     What  manner  of  man  ? 

Mai.  Of  very  ill  manner  ;  he  '11  speak  with  you,  will  you 
or  no. 

Oli.     Of  what  personage  and  years  is  he  ? 

Mai.     Not  yet  old  enough  for  a  man,  nor  young  enough 
for  a  boy  ;  as  a  squash, is  before  'tis  a  peascod,', or  a  codling 
when  'tis  almost  an  apple  :  'tis  with  him  in  $tanding  water,\ 
between  boy  and  man.     He  is  very  well-favoured  and  he^ 
speaks  very  shrewishly  ;  one  would  think  his  mother's  milk 
were  scarce  out  of  him.  153 

Oli.     Let  him  approach  :  call  in  my  gentlewoman. 

Mai.     Gentlewoman,  my  lady  calls.  [Exit. 

Re-enter  Maria. 

OH.     Crive  me  my  veil  :    come,  throw  it  o'er  my  face. 
We'll  once  more  hear  Orsino's  embassy. 

Enter  ViOLA,  and  Attendants. 

Vio.     The  honourable  lady  of  the  house,  which  is  she  .'' 

Oli.     Speak  to  me  ;  I  shall  answer  for  her.     Your  will  1 

Vio.     Most  radiant,  exquisite  and  unmatchable  beauty, — 

I  pray  you,  tell  me  if  this  be  the  lady  of  the  house,  for  I 

never  saw  her  :   I  would  be  loath  to  cast  away  my  speech, 

for  besides  that  it  is  excellently  well  penned,  I  have  taken 


ACT  r.   SCFXE    V.  15 

great  pains  to  con  it.  Good  beauties,  let  me  sustain  no 
scorn  ;  I  atfi  \orv  comptililt-  even  ti>  tin-  U-nst  sinister 
usage. 

0/i.     Whence  came  you,  sir  ? 

Vt'o.  I  can  say  little  more  than  I  have  studied,  and  that 
question 's  out  of  my  part.  Good  gentle  one,  give  me 
modest  assurancd  if  you  be  the  lady  of  the  house,  that  I 
may  proceed  in  my  speech.  '7  1 

0/i.    Are  you  a  comedian  ? 

V/o.  No,  my  profound  heart :  and  yet,  ^-  the  very  fangs 
of  malice  I  swear,  I  am  not  that  1  play.  Are  you  the  lady 
of  the  house  ? 

O//.   (U  I  do  not  usurp  myselO  I  am. 

Vio.  Most  certain,  if  you  are  she,  you  do  usurp  yourself ; 
for  what  is  yours  to  bestow  is  not  yours  to  reserve.  But  this 
is  f^om  my  commission'^  I  will  on  with  my  speech  in  your 
praise,  and  then  show  you  the  Jieart  of  my  message. ;        180 

O/i.  Come  to  what  is  important  in  t  :  I  forgive  you  the 
praise. 

F/V».  Alas,  I  took  great  pains  to  study  it,  and  'tis  poet- 
ical. 

0/t.  It  is  the  more  like  to  be  feigned  :  I  pray  you,  keep 
it  in.  I  heard  you  were  saucy  at  my  gates,  and  allowed 
your  approach  rather  to  wonder  at  you  than  to  hear  you. 
If  you  be  not  mad,  be  gone  ;  if  you  have  reason,  be  brief: 
'tis  not  (hat  time  of  moon)  with  me  to  make  one  in  sO(Skip- 
ping[)a  dialogue.  '9° 

Afar.     Will  you  hoist  sail,  sir .'  here  lies  your  way. 

V/o.  No,  good  swabber  ;  I  am  to  hull  here  a  little  longer. 
Some  mollification  for  your  giant,  sweet  lady.  Tell  me 
your  mind  :   I  am  a  messenger. 

O//.  Sure,  you  have  some  hideous  matter  to  deliver, 
when  the  courtesy  of  it  is  so  fearful.     Speak  your  office. 

V/o.  It  alone  concerns  your  ear.  I  bring  «}o  overture  of 
war,""fio  ta.\ation  of  homage  y  I  hold  the  olive  in  my  hand  ; 
my  words  are  as  full  of  peace  as  matter.  i99 


l6  TWELFTH   NIGHT. 

OH.  Yet  you  began  rudely.  What  are  you  ?  what  would 
you  ? 

Vio.  The  rudeness  that  hath  appeared  in  nie  have  I 
learned  from  my  entertainment.  What  I  am,  and  what  1 
would,  are  as  secret  as  maidenhead  ;.  to  your  ears,  divinity, 
to  any  other's,  profanation. 

OIL  Give  us  the  place  alone  :  we  will  hear  this  divinity. 
[Exctmi  Maria  and  Attendants.^  Now,  sir,  what  is  your 
text? 

Vio.     Most  sweet  lady, — 

OH.  A  comfortable  doctrine,  and  much  may  be  said  of 
it.     Where  lies  your  text  ?  21  r 

Vio.     In  Orsino's  bosom. 

OH.     In  his  bosom  !     In  what  chapter  of  his  bosom? 

Vio.     To.  answer  by  the  method,  in  the  first  of  his  heart. 

OH.  O,  I  have  read  it  :  it  is  heresy.  Have  you  no  more 
to  say  ? 

Vio.     Good  madam,  let  me  see  your  face. 

OH.  Have  you  any  commission  from  your  lord  to  nego- 
tiate with  my  face  ?  You  are  now  out  of  your  text  :  but  we 
will  draw  the  curtain  and  show  you  the  picture.  Look  you, 
sir,  such  a  one  I  was  this  present :  is 't  not  well  done?      221 

[^UnveiHng. 

Vio.     Excellently  done,  if  God  did  all. 

OH.     'Tis  in  grain,  sir  ;  'twill  endure  wind  and  weather. 

Vio.     'Tis  beauty  truly  blent,  whose  red  and  white 
Nature's  own  sweet  and  cunning  hand  laid  on  : 
Lady,  you  are  the  cruell'st  she  alive, 
If  you  will  lead  these  graces  to  the  grave 
And  leave  the  world  no  copy. 

OH.  O,  sir,  I  will  not  be  so  hard-hearted  ;  I  will  give  out 
divers  schedules  of  my  beauty  :  it  shall  be  inventoried,  and 
every  particle  and  utensil  labelled  to  my  will  :  as,  item,  two 
lips,  indifterent  red  ;  item,  two  grey  eyes,  with  lids  to  them  ; 
item,  one  neck,  one  chin,  and  so  forth.  Were  you  sent 
hither  to  praise  me  ?  234 


ACT  I.   SCESE    V.  17 

Vio.     I  see  you  what  you  arc,  you  are  too  proud  ; 
But,  if  you  were  the  devil,  you  are  fair. 
My  lord  and  master  loves  you  :    O,  such  love 
Could  be  but  recompensed,  thou^jh  you  were  crown'd 
The  nonpareil  of  beauty  I 

O/i.  How  does  he  love  me? 

y/o.     With  adorations,  fertile  tears,  I  ^C*-*" 

With  groans  that  thunder  love,  with  sii^hs  of  fire.    ' 

0/i.     Your  lord  does  know  my  mind  ;  I  cannot  love  him  : 
Vet  I  suppose  him  virtuous,  know  him  noble, 
Of  great  estate,  of  fresh  and  stainless  youth  ; 
(^J^n  voices  well  divulged,^' free,  learn'd  and  valiant; 
And  in  (idimension  and  the  shape  of  nature 
A  gracious  person  :   but  yet   I  cannot  love  him  ; 
He  might  have  took  his  answer  long  ago. 

y/o.     If  I  did  love  you  jn  my  master's  flame. 
With  such  a  suftering,  such  a  deadly  life,  250 

In  your  denial  I  would  And  no  sense  ; 
1  would  not  understand  it. 

O/t.  Why,  what  would  you  ? 

Vio.     Make  me  a  willow  cabin  at  your  gate, 
And  call  upon  my  soul  within  the  house  ; 
Write  loyal  cantons  of  contemned  love 
.\nd  sing  them  loud  even  in  the  dead  of  night  ; 
Halloo  your  name  to  the  reverberate  hills 
And  make  the  babbling  gossip  of  the  air 
Cry  out  'Olivia!'     O,  you  should  not  rest 
Between  the  elements  of  air  and  earth,  260 

But  you  should  pity  mc ! 

Oil.  Vou  might  do  much. 

What  is  your  parentage? 

Vio.     Above  my  fortunes,  yet  my  slate  is  well  : 
1  am  a  gentleman. 

Oli.  Get  you  to  your  lord  ; 

1  cannot  love  him  :    let  him  send  no  more  ; 
Unless,  perchance,  you  come  to  mc  again, 

c 


l8  TWELFTH   NIGHT. 

To  tell  me  how  he  takes  it.     Fare  you  well  : 
1  thank  you  for  your  pains  :    spend  this  for  me. 

Vw.     I  am  no  fee'd  post,  lady ;   keep  your  purse  : 
My  master,  not  myself,  lacks  recompense.  270 

Love  make  his  heart  of  flint  that  you  shall  love  ; 
And  let  your  fervour,  like  my  master's,  be 
Placed  in  contempt !     Farewell,  fair  cruelty.  [Ex//. 

Oh'.     '  What  is  your  parentage  ?' 
'  Above  my  fortunes,  yet  my  state  is  well : 
I  am  a  gentleman.'     1  '11  be  sworn  thou  art  ; 
Thy  tongue,  thy  face,  thy  limbs,  actions  and  spirit. 
Do  give  thee  five-fold  blazon  :   not  too  fast :    soft,  soft ! 
Unless  the  master  were  the  man.     How  now! 
Even  so  quickly  may  one  catch  the  plague?  280 

Methinks  I  feel  this  youth's  perfections 
With  an  invisible  and  subtle  stealth 
To  creep  in  at  mine  eyes.     Well,  let  it  be. 
What  ho,  Malvolio! 

Re-enter  Malvolio. 

Mai.  Here,  madam,  at  your  service. 

Oii.     Run  after  that  same  peevish ,  messenger. 
The  county's  man  :   he  left  this  ring  behind  him, 
Would  I  or  not  :    tell  him  I  '11  none  of  it. 
Desire  him  not  to  flatter  with  his  lord. 
Nor  hold  him  up  with  hopes  ;    I  am  not  for  him  : 
If  that  the  youth  will  come  this  way  to-morrow,  290 

I'll  give  him  reasons  for't:   hie  thee,  MalvoHo. 

Mai.     Madam,  I  will.  '  {Exit. 

OH.     I  do  I  know  not  what,  and  fear  to  find 
Mine  eye  too  great  a  flatterer  for  my  mind. 
Fate,  show  thy  force  :   ourselves  we  do  not  owe  ; 
What  is  decreed  must  be,  and  be  this  so.  \Exit. 


ACT  II.    SCENE   I.  19 

ACT    II. 
Scene  I.     T/w  sea-coast. 

Enter  Antonio  and  Sebastian. 

Ant.  Will  you  stay  no  longer?  nor  will  you  not  that  I 
go  with  you  ? 

Seb.  '\By  your  patience,  no.  My  stars  shine  darkly  over 
me  :  the  malignancy  of  my  fate  might  perhaps  distemper 
yours  ;  therefore  I  shall  crave  of  you  your  leave  that  I  may 
bear  my  evils  alone  :  it  were  a  bad  recompense  for  your 
love,  to  lay  any  of  them  on  you. 

Ant.     Let  me  yet  know  of  you  whither  you  are  bound. 

Seb.  V^'o,  sooth,'^sir:  my  (determinate  voyage  is  mere 
Extravagancy.)  But  I  perceiVe  in  you  so  excellent  a 
touch  of  modesty,  that  you  will  not  extort  from  me  what  I 
am  willing  to  keep  in  ;  therefore  it  charges  me  in  manners 
the  rather  to  express  myself.  You  must  know  of  me  then, 
Antonio,  my  name  is  Sebastian,  which  I  called  Roderigo. 
My  father  was  that  Sebastian  of  Messaline,  whom  I  know 
you  have  heard  of.  He  left  behind  him  myself  and  a  sister, 
both  bom  in  an  hour  :  if  the  heavens  had  been  pleased, 
would  we  had  so  ended!  but  you,  sir,  altered  that;  for 
some  hour  before  you  took  me  from  the  breach  of  the  sea 
^^as  my  sister  drowned.  20 

Ant.     Alas  the  day  ! 

Seb.  A  lady,  sir,  though  it  was  said  she  much  resembled 
me,  was  ^yet  of  many  accounted  beautiful  :  but,  though  I 
could  not  with  such  estimable  wonder  pvcrfar  believe  that, 
yet  thus  far  1  will  boldly  publish  her  ;  she  bore  ci  mind  that 
envy  could  not  but  call  fair.  She  is  drowned  alrc;'dy,  sir, 
with  salt  water,  though  I  seem  to  drown  her  remembrance 
igain  with  more.; 

Ant.     Pardon  me.  sir,  your  bad  entertainment. 

C  2 


ao  TWELFTH    NIGHT. 

Scb.     O  good  Antonio,  forgive  me  your  trouble.  ?  30 

^  !     Ant.     If  you  will  not  murder  me  for  my  love,  let  me  be 
[your  servant. 

Sel?.  If  you  will  not  undo  what  you  have  done,  that  is, 
kill  him  whom  you  have  recovered,  desire  it  not.  Fare  ye 
well  at  once  :  my  bosom  is  full  of  kindness,  and  I  am  yet  so 
near  the  manners  of  my  mother,  that  upon  the  least  oc- 
casion more  mine  eyes  will  tell  tales  of  me.  I  am  bound 
to  the  Count  Orsino's  court  :  farewell.  [Exit. 

Ant.     The  gentleness  of  all  the  gods  go  with  thee ! 
I  have  many  enemies  in  Orsino's  court,  40 

Else  would  I  very  shortly  see  thee  there. 
But,  come  what  may,  I  do  adore  thee  so^ 
That  danger  shall  seem  sport,  and  I  will  go.  [Exit. 

Scene  II.    A  street. 

Enter  Viola,  Malvolio  folhnuing. 
Mai.     Were  not  you,  even  now  with  the  Countess  Olivia .? 

Via.  Even  now,  sir  ;■'  on  a  moderate  pace  I  have  since 
arrived  but  hither. 

^  Mai.  She  returns  this  ring  to  you,  sir :  you  might  have 
saved  me  my  pains,  to  have  taken  it  away  yourself.  She 
adds,  moreover,  that  you  should  put  your  lord  into  a  des- 
perate assurance  she  will  none  of  him  :  and  one  thing  more, 
that  you  be  never  so  hardy  to  come  again) in  his  affairs, 
unless  it  be  to  report  your  lord's  taking  of  this.  Receive 
it  so.  10 

Vio.     She  took  the  ring  of  me  :   I  'II  none  of  it. 

Mai.  Come,  sir,  you  peevishly  threw  it  to  her  ;  and  her 
will  is,  it  should  be  so  returned  :  if  it  be  worth  stooping  for, 
there  it  lies  in  your  eye  ;  if  not,  be  it  his  that  finds  it.  [Exit. 

Vio.     I  left  no  ring  with  her  :    what  means  this  lady  1 
Fortune  forbid  my  outside  have  not  charm'd  her! 
She  made  good  view  of  me  ;   indeed,  so  much, 
That  sure  methought  her  eyes  had  lost  her  tongue,  ') 


ACT   II.    SCEXE    III.  1\ 

For  she  did  speak  in  starts  distractedly. 
She  loves  me,  sure  ;   the  cunning  of  her  passion  ;o 

Invites  me^in">this  churlish  messenger. 
None  of  my  lord's  ring  I    why,  he  sent  her  none. 
I  am  the  man  :    if  it  be  so,  as  'tis, 
Poor  lady,  she  were  better  love  a  dream. 
Disguise,  I  see,  thou  art  a  wickedness. 
Wherein  the  pregnant 'enemy  does  much. 
How  easy  is  it  for  the  ^^roper-false 
In  women's  ^vyaxen  )hearts  to  set  their  forms! 
Alas,  our  frailty  is  the  cause,  not  we  ! 
For  such  as  we  are  made  of,  such  we  be.  30 

VHow  will  this  fadgc .')  my  master  hncs  her  dearly  ; 
And  I,  poor  monster,  fond  as  much  on  him  ; 
And  she,  mistaken,  seems  to  dote  on  me. 
What  will  become  of  this .''     As  I  am  man, 
My  state  is  desperate  for  my  masters  love  ; 
As  I  ajn  woman, — now  alas  the  day ! — 
What  thriftless  sighs  shall  poor  Olivia  breathe  ! 
O  time!    thou  must  untangle  this,  not   I  ; 
It  is  too  hard  a  knot  for  me  to  untie  !  \_Exit 


Scene  III.    Ol\\\\'?>  Iiouse. 
Enter  Sir  Toby  and  Sir  Andrew. 

Sir  To.  Approach,  Sir  Andrew  :  not  to  be  a-bed  after 
midnight  is  to  be  up  betimes  ;  and  'diluculo  surgere,'  thou 
^nowst, — 

Sir  And.  Nay,  by  my  troth,  I  know  not :  but  I  knew,  to 
be  up  late  is  to  be  up  late. 

.Sir  To.  A  false  conclusion  :  I  hate  it  as  an  unfilled  can. 
To  be  up  after  midnight  and  to  go  to  bed  then,  is  early  : 
so  that  to  go  to  bed  after  midnight  is  to  go  to  bed  betimes. 
Does  not  our  life  consist  of  the  four  elements?) 

Sir  And.  Faith,  so  they  say  ;  but  I  think  it  rather  con- 
sists of  eating  and  drinking.  « > 


22  TWELFTH   NIGHT. 

Sir  To.  Tliou  'rt  a  scholar ;  let  us  therefore  eat  and 
(hink.     Marian,  I  say!  a.stoup  bf  wine  ! 

Enter  Clown. 

Sir  And.     Here  comes  the  fool,  i'  faith. 

Clo.  How  now,  my  hearts  !  did  you  never  see  the  picture 
of  '  we  three '  ? 

Sir  To.     Welcome,  ass.     Now  let 's  have  a  catch. 

Sir  And.  By  my  troth,  the  fool  has  an  excellent  bi'east. 
I  had  rather  than  forty  shillings  I  had  such  a  leg,  and  so 
sweet  a  breath  to  sing,  as  the  fool  has.  In  sooth,  thou  wast 
in  very  gracious  fooling  last  night,  when  thou  spokest  of 
Pigrogromitus,  of  the  Vapians  passing  the  equinoctial  of 
Oueubus  :  'twas  very  good,  i'  faith.  I  sent  thee  sixpence  for 
thy  leman  :  hadst  it  ?  24 

Clo.  I  did  impeticos  thy  gratillity  ;  for  Malvolio's  nose 
is'  no  whipstock  :  my  lady  has  a  white  hand,  and  the 
Myrmidons  are  no  bottle-ale  houses. 

Sir  And.  Excellent !  why,  this  is  the  best  fooling,  when 
all  is  done.     Now,  a  song. 

Sir  To.  Come  on  ;  there  is  sixpence  for  you  :  let 's  have 
a  song.  31 

Sir  And.  There 's  a  testril  of  me  too :  if  one  knight 
give  a — 

Clo.  Would  you  have  a  love-song,  or  a  song  of  good 
lifePJ;  "^ 

Sir  To.    A  love-song,  a  love-song. 
Sir  And.     Ay,  ay  :    I  care  not  for  good  life. 
Clo.     \Sings\ 

O  mistress  mine,  where  arc  you  roaming? 
O,  stay  and  hear  ;    your  true  love  '3  coming. 

That  can  sing  both  high  and  low  :  ,\o 

Trip  no  further,  pretty  sweeting  ; 
Journeys  end  in  lovers  meeting, 
Every  wise  man's  son  doth  know. 
Sir  And.     Excellent  good,  i'  faith. 


ACT   II.    ^CF.SF    II T.  23 

Sir  To.     (iood,  grood. 
Clo.     [Sitti^s] 

What  is  love  ?    'tis  not  hereafter  ; 
Present  mirth  hath  present   lauyhtci  ; 

What 's  to  come  is  still  unsure  : 
In  delay  there  lies  no  plenty:  N  "Is 

Then  come  kiss  me,  sweet  and  twenty,  \  50 

Youth's  a  stuff  will  not  endure. 
Sir  And.     A  mellifluous  voice,  as  I  am  true  knight. 
Sir  To.     A  contagious  breath. 
Sir  Attd.     Very  sweet  and  contagious,  i'  faith. 
Sir  To.     To  hear  by  the  nose,  it  is  dulcet  in  contagion. 
But  shall  we  make  the  welkin  dance  indeed  ?  shall  we  rouse 
the  night-owl  in  a  catch  that  will  draw  three  souls  out  of  one 
weaver .?  shall  we  do  that .'' 

Sir  And.  An  you  love  me,  let 's  do 't  :  I  am  dog  at  a 
catch.  'io 

Clo.     By  'r  lady,  sir,  and  some  dogs  will  catch  well. 

Sir  And.     Most  certain.    Let  our  catch  be,  '  Thou  knave.' 

Clo.  '  Hold  thy  peace,  thou  knave,'  knight  ?  I  shall  be 
constrained  in  't  to  call  thee  knave,  knight. 

Sir  And.  'Tis  not  the  first  time  I  have  constrained  one 
to  call  me  knave.     Begin,  fool  :  it  begins  '  Hold  thy  peace.' 

Clo.     I  shall  never  begin  if  I  hold  my  peace. 

Sir  And.     Good,  i'  faith.     Come,  begin.        [Catch  sung. 

Enter  Maria. 

Afar.  What  a  caterwauling  do  you  keep  here!  If  my 
lady  have  not  called  up  her  steward  Malvolio  and  bid 
him  turn  you  out  of  doors,  never  trust  me.  7 ' 

Sir  To.  My  lady  's  a  Cataian,  we  are  politicians,  Mal- 
volio 's  a  Peg-a-Ramsey,  and  '  Three  merry  men  be  we.' 
Am  not  I  consanguineous  ?  am  I  not  of  her  blood  ?  Tilly- 
vally.  Lady  I  {Sings]  'There  dwelt  a  man  in  Babylon, 
lady,  lady!' 

Clo.     Beshrcw  me,  the  knight  '3  in  admirable  fooling. 


24  TWELFTH   NIGHT. 

Sir  And.  Ay,  he  does  well  enouj.;h  if  he  be  disposed, 
and  so  do  I  too  :  he  does  it  with  a  better  grace,  but  I 
do  it  more  natural.  80 

Sir  To.     \Siiigs\  '  O,  the  twelfth  day  of  December,' — 
Mar.     For  the  love  o'  God,  peace  !       l--^ 

Enter  Malvoijo. 

Mai.  My  masters,  are  you  mad  ?  or  what  are  you  ? 
Have  you  no  wit,  manners,  nor  honesty,  but  to  gabble  like 
tinkers  at  this  time  of  night  ?  Do  ye  make  an  alehouse  of 
my  lady's  house,  that  ye  squeak  out  your  coziers'  catches 
without  any  mitigation  or  remorse  of  voice?  Is  there  no 
respect  of  place,  persons,  nor  time  in  you  ? 

Sir  To.     We  did  keep  time,  sir,  in  our  catches.    Sneck  up ! 

Mai.  Sir  Toby,  I  must  be  (round  with  you.  My  lady 
bade  me  tell  you,  that,  though^  she  harbours  you  as  her 
kinsman,  she's  nothing  allied  to  your  disorders.  If  you 
can  separate  yourself  and  your  misdemeanours,  you  are 
welcome  to  the  house  ;  if  not,  an  it  would  please  you  to 
take  leave  of  her,  she  is  very  willing  to  bid  you  farewell. 

Sir  To.  '  Farewell,  dear  heart,  since  I  must  needs  be 
gone.' 

Mar.     Nay,  good  Sir  Toby. 

Clo.     '  His  eyes  do  show  his  days  arc  almost  done.' 

Mai.     Is't  even  so  ? 

Sir  To.     '  But  I  will  never  die.'  100 

Clo.     Sir  Toby,  there  you  lie. 

Mai.     This  is  much  credit  to  you. 

Sir  To.     '  Shall  I  bid  him  go  ? ' 

Clo.     '  What  an  if  you  do  ? ' 

Sir  To.     'Shall  1  bid  him  go,  and  spare  not?' 

Clo.     '  O  no,  no,  no,  no,  you  dare  not.' 

Sir  To.  Out  o'  tune,  sir  :  ye  lie.  Art  any  more  than  a 
steward  ?  Dost  thou  think,  because  thou  art  virtuous,  there 
shall  be  no  more  cakes  and  ale  ? 


ACT   II.    SCENE   III.  25 

Clfl.  Yes,  by  Saint  Anne,  and  Kinf:jcr  shall  be  hot  i'  the 
mouth  too.  1  •  • 

Sir  To.  Thou  'rt  i'  the  right.  Go,  sir,  rub  your  chain 
with  crums.     A  stoup  of  wine,  .Maria  ! 

Mill.  Mistress  Mary,  if  you  prized  my  lady's  favour  at 
any  thing  more  than  contempt,  you  would  not  give  means  for 
thia  uncivilVile  ;l  she  shall  know  of  it,  by  this  hand.     [Exif. 

Afar,     tio  shake  your  ears. 

St'r  And.  'Twere  as  good  a  deed  as  to  drink  wlicn  a 
man 's  a-hungr>',  to  challenge  him  the  field,  and  then  to 
break  promise  with  him  and  make  a  fool  of  him.  120 

Sir  To.  Do  't,  knight  :  I  '11  write  thee  a  challenge  ;  or 
I  '11  deliver  thy  indignation  to  him  by  word  of  mouth. 

Mar.  Sweet  Sir  Toby,  be  patient  for  to-night  :  since  the 
youth  of  the  count's  was  to-day  with  my  lady,  she  is  much 
out  of  quiet.  For  Monsieur  Malvolio,  let  me  alone  with 
him  :  if  I  do  not  gull  him  into  a  nayword,  and  make  him  a 
common  recreation,  do  not  think  I  have  wit  enough  to  lie 
straight  in  my  bed  :   1  know  I  can  do  it. 

Sir  To.  \  Possess  usj  possess  us  ;  tell  us  something  of  him. 

Mar.     Marr>',  sir,  sometimes  he  is  a  kind  oLpuritan.     1 30 

Sir  And.     O,  if  I  thought  that,  I  'Id  beat  him  like  a  dog ! 

Sir  To.  What,  for  being  a  puritan  }  thy  exquisite  reason, 
dear  knight  ? 

Sir  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  'qon- 
stantly,^  but  a  'time-p!eascrj_  an  affectioned  ass,  that  cons 
state  without  book  and  jjtters  it  by  great  swarths^  the  best  1  .. 
persuaded  pf  himself,  so  crammed," as  he  thinks,  with  excel-  1  \ 
Wjirjpcj,  »^3nt  it  is  his  grounds  of  faith  that  all  that  look  on  him 
h)ve  him  ^  and  on  that  vice  in  him  will  my  revenge  find 
notable  cause  to  work.  '4' 

Sir  To.     What  wilt  thou  do  ? 

Mar.     I  will  drop  in  his   way  some  obscure  epistles  of 


26  TWELFTH   NIGHT. 

love  ;  wherein,  by  the  colour  of  his  beara,  the  shape  of  his 
leg,  the  manner  of  his  gait,  the  expressure  of  his  eye,  fore- 
head, 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.  '  150 

Sz'r  To.     Excellent  !     I  smell  a  device. 

Sir  And.     I  have 't  in  my  nose  too. 

Sir  To.  He  shall  think,  by  the  letters  that  thou  wilt 
drop,  that  they  come  from  my  niece,  and  that  she 's  in  love 
with  him.  ' 

Mar.     My  purpose  is,  indeed,  a  horse  of  that  colour. 

Sir  And.     And  your  horse  now  would  make  him  an  ass. 

Mar.     Ass,  I  doubt  not. 

Sir  And.     O,  'twill  be  admirable  !  159 

'  Mar.  Sport  royal,  I  warrant  you  :  I  know  my  physic 
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.     Farewell.  {Exit. 

Sir  To.     Good  night,  Penthesilea.\ 

Sir  And.     Before  me,  she 's  a  good  wench. 

Sir  To.  She 's  a  beagle,  true-bred,  and  one  that  adores 
me  :  what  o'  that.? 

Sir  And.     I  was  adored  once  too. 

Sir  To.  Let 's  to  bed,  knight.  Thou  hadst  need  send 
for  more  money.  171 

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'  the  end,  call  me  cut. 

Sir  And.  If  I  do  not,  never  trust  me,  take  it  how  you 
will. 

Sir  To.  Come,  come,  I  '11  go  burn  some  sack  ;  'tis  too  late 
to  go  to  bed  now  :  come,  knight  ;  come,  knight.       \Exeunt. 


ACT   n     SCENE    IV.  1'] 

SCENF.  I\'.      Thf  Hvviv:?,  palace. 
Er.ttr  DUKi;,  \'loi.A,  CURIO,  anii  others. 

Duke.     Give  me  some  music.    Now,  good  monow.  fi  iends 
Now,  good  Cesario,  but  that  piece  of  song, 
That  old  and  antique  song  we  heard  last  night  : 
Methought  it  did  relieve  my  passion  much, 
More  than  light  airs  and  ^recollected  terms 
Of.  these  most  brisk  and  giddy-paced  times  : 
Come,  but  one  verse. 

Cur.  He  is  not  here,  so  please  your  lordship,  that  should 
sing  it. 

Duke.     Who  was  it.?  lo 

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. 

\Exit  Curio.     Music  plays. 
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  beloved.     How  dost  thou  like  this  tune.'  20 

Vio.     It  gives  a  vcr>'  echo  to  the  seat 
Where  Love  is  throned. 

Duke.  Thou  dost  speak  masterly  :\ 

My  life  upon 't,  young  though  thou  art,  thine  eye 
Hath  stay'd  upon  some  favour  that  it  loves  : 
Hath  it  not,  boy? 

Vio.  A  little,  by  your  favour.) 

Duke.     What  kind  of  woman  is 't  ? 

Via.  Of  your  complexion. 

Duke.     She  is  not  worth  thee,  then.    What  years,  i'  faith.' 
Via.     About  your  years,  my  lord. 


iH  TWELFTH   NIGHT. 

Duke.     Too  old,  by  heaven  :    let  still  the  woman  take 
An  elder  than  herself:  (so  wears  she  to  him,  ^  30 

So  sways  she  level  in  nfer  husband's  heart  : 
For,  boy,  however  we  do  praise  ourselves, 
Our  fancies  are  more  giddy  and  unfirm, 
More  longing,  wavering,  sooner  lost  and  >vorn, 
Than  women's  are, 

Vio.  I  think  it  well,  my  lord. 

Ditkc.     Then  let  thy  love  be  younger  than  thyself, 
Or  thy  affection  cannot  hold  the  bent;? 
For  women  are  as  roses,  whose  fair  flower, 
Being  once  display'd,  doth  fall  that  very  hour. 

Vio.     And  so  they  are  :    alas,  that  they  are  so  ;  40 

To  die,  even  when  they  to  perfection  grow  ! 

Re-enter  CuRio  a7id  Clown. 

Duke.     O,  fellow,  come,  the  song  we  had  last  night. 
Mark  it,  Cesario,  it  is  old  and  plain  ; 
The  spinsters  and  the  knitters  in  the  sun 
And  the  free  maids  that  weave  their  thread  with  bones 
Do  use  to  chant  it  :    it  is  silly  sooth, 
And  dallies  with  the  innocence  of  love, 
Like  the  old  age. 

Clo.     Are  you  ready,  sir.?  49 

Duke.     Ay  ;   prithee,  sing.  \Music, 

Song. 

Clo.      Come  away,  come  away,  death. 

And  in  sad  cypress  let  me  be  laid  ; 
Fly  away,  fly  away,  breath  ; 

I  am  slain  by  a  fair  cruel  maid. 
My  shroud  of  white,  stuck  all  with  yew, 

O,  prepare  it  ! 
My  part  of  death,  no  one  so  true 
Did  share  it. 


ACT   II.   SCEx\E   IV.  29 

Not  a  flower,  not  a  flower  sweet, 

On  my  black  coftin  let  there  be  strown  ;  60 

Not  a  friend,  not  a  friend  greet 

My  poor  corpse^  where  my  bones  shall  be  thrown ; 
A  thousand  thousand  sighs  to  save. 

Lay  me,  O,  where 
Sad  true  lover  never  find  my  grave, 
To  weep  there ! 

Duke.    There  's  for  thy  pains. 

Clo.     No  pains,  sir  ;  I  take  pleasure  in  singing,  sir. 

Duk-c.     I  '11  pay  thy  pleasure  then. 

Clo.  Truly,  sir,  and  pleasure  will  be  paid,  one  time  or 
another.  7 ' 

Duke.     Give  me  now  leave  to  leave  thee. 

Clo.  Now,  the  melancholy  god  protect  thee  ;  and  the 
tailor  make  thy  doublet  of  changeable  tafleta,  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.     Farewell.  {Exit. 

Duke.     Let  all  the  rest  give  place. 

"     [Curio  and  Attcndnnts  retire. 
Once  more,  Cesario, 
Get  thee  to^yondjsame  sovereign  cruelty:  80 

Tell  her,  my  love,  more  noble  than  the  world, 
I'rizes  not  quantity  of  dirty  lands  ; 
The  parts  that  fortune  hath  bestow'd  upon  htr, 
Tell  her,  I  hold  as  giddily  1  as  fortune;    , 
But  'tis  that  miracle"  and  queen  of  gems 
(,That  nature  pranks  her  in  attracts  my  soul. 
Vio.     But  if  she  cannot  love  you,  sir? 
Duke.     1  cannot  be  so  answer'd. 

Vio.  Sooth,  but  you  must. 

Say  that  some  lady,  as  perhaps  there  is, 
Hath  for  your  love  as  great  a  pang  of  heart  yo 


30  TWELFTH  NIGHT. 

As  you  have  for  Olivia  :   you  cannot  love  her  ; 
You  tell  her  so  ;   must  she  not  then  be  answered  ? 
j      Duke.     There  is  no  woman's  sides 
'  Can  bide  the  beating  of  so  strong  a  passion 
As  love  doth  give  my  heart  ;   no  woman's  heat;t 
So  big,  to  hold  so  much  ;   they  lack  retention.  \ 
Alas,  their  love  may  be  call'd  appetite, 
No  motion  of  the  liver,  but  the  palate. 
That  suffer  surfeit,  cloyment  and  revolt  ; 
But  mine  is  all  as  hungry  as  the  sea,  loo 

And  can  digest  as  much:   make  no, compare) 
Between  that  love  a  woman__caiL.bear  me 
And. -thaljo  we  Olivia. 

Vio.  Ay,  but  I  know — 

Duke.    What  dost  thou  know  ? 

Vio.     Too  well  what  love  women  to  men  may  owe  : 
In  faith,  they  are  as  true  of  heart  as  we. 
My  father  had  a  daughter  loved  a  man, 
As  it  might  be,  perhaps,  were  I  a  woman, 
I  should  your  lordship. 

Duke.  And  what 's  her  history  ? 

Vio.    A  blank,  my  lord.     She  never  told  her  love,    no 
But  let  concealment,  like  a  worm  i'  the  bud. 
Feed  on  her  damask  cheek  :   she  pined  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  ? 

Vio.     I  am  all  the  daughters  of  my  father's  house,    120 
And  all  the  l^rothers  too  :    and  yet  I  know  not. 
Sir,  shall  1  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. 


ACT   II.    SCENE    V.  3I 

Scene  V.    Olivia's  garden. 
Enter  SIR  Toby,  Sir  Andrew,  ami  Fahian. 

Sir  To.     Come  thy  ways,  Signior  Fabian. 

Fab.     Nay,  1  '11  come  :  if  I  lose  a  scruple  of  this  sport,  let 
me  be  boiled  to  death  with  melancholy. 

Sir  To.  Wouldst  thou  not  be  glad  to  have  the  niggardly 
rascally  sheep-biter  come  by  some  notable  shame  ? 

Fab.  I  would  e.xult,  man  :  you  know,  he  brought  me  out 
o'  favour  with  my  lady  about  a  bear-baiting  here. 

Sir  To.  To  anger  him  we  '11  have  the  bear  again  ;  and 
we  will  fool  him  black  and  blue  :  shall  we  not,  Sir  Andrew  .? 

Sir  And.    An  we  do  not,  it  is  pity  of  our  lives.  10 

Sir  To.     Here  comes  the  little  villain. 
Enter  MARIA. 

How  now,  my  metal  of  India  ! 

Mar.  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  n.ocken"  :  for  I  know  this  letter 
will  make  a  contemplative  idiot  of  him.  Close,  in  the  name 
of  jesting !  Lie  thou  there  {throws  down  a  letter]  ;  for  here 
comes  the  trout  that  must  be  caught  with  tickling.        [Exit. 

Enter  Malvolio. 

Mai.  'Tis  but  fortune  ;  all  is  fortune.  Maria  once  told 
me  she  did  aflfect  me  :  and  I  have  heard  herself  cpme  thus 
near,\that,  should  she  fancy,  it  should  be  one  of  my  com- 
plexion. Besides,  she  uses  me  with  a  more  exalted  respect 
than  any  one  else  that  follows  her.  What  should  I  think 
on't?  =^^ 

Sir  To.     Here 's  an  overweening  rogue ! 

Fab.  O,  peace  I  Contemplation  makes  a  rare  turkey-cock 
of  him  :  how  he  jets  under  his  advanced  plumes  ! 


32  TWELFTH  NIGHT. 

Sir  And.     'Slight,  I  could  so  beat  the  rogue  ! 
Sir  To.     Peace,  I  say.  30 

lifal.     To  be  Count  Malvolio  ! 
Sir  To.     Ah,  rogue  ! 
Sir  And.     Pistol  him,  pistol  him. 
Sir  To.     Peace,  peace ! 

Mai.  There  is  example  for't;  the  lady  of  the  Strachy 
married  the  yeoman  of  the  wardrobe. 

Sir  And.     Fie  on  him,  Jezebel  ! 

Fab.  O,  peace  !  now  he 's  deeply  in  :  look  how  imagina- 
tion blows  him.) 

Mai.  Having  been  three  months  married  to  her,  sitting 
in  my  state, —  •  41 

Sir  To.     O,  for  a  stone-bow,, to  hit  him  in  the  eye  ! 

Mai.  Calling  my  officers  about  me,  in  my  branched  vel- 
vet gown  ;  having  come  from  a  daybed,  where  I  have  left 
Olivia  sleeping, — 

Sir  To.     Fire  and  brimstone  ! 

Fab.     O,  peace,  peace  ! 

Mai.  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,—  51 

Sir  To.     Bolts  and  shackles  ! 

Fab.     O  peace,  peace,  peace  !  now,  now. 

Mai.  Seven  of  my  people,  with  an  obedient  start,  make 
out  for  him  :  I  frown  the  while  ;  and  perchance  wind  up  my 
watch,  or  play  witli  my — some  rich  jewel. !  Toby  approaches  ; 
courtesies  there  to  me, — 

Sir  To.     Shall  this  fellow  live? 

Fab.  Though  our  silence  be  drawn  from  us  with  cars, 
yet  peace.  60 

Mai.  I  extend  my  hand  to  him  thus,  quenching  my 
familiar  smile  with  an  austere  regard  of  control,— \ 


ACT   II.    SCENE    V 


33 


Sir  To.  And  does  not  Toby  take  you  a  bli)\v  o'  ilu-  lips 
then  ? 

Mai.  Saying,  'Cousin  Toby,  my  fortunes  having  cast  me 
on  your  niece  give  me  this  prerogative  of  speech,' — 

Sir  To.     What,  wliat  ? 

Mai.     'You  must  amend  your  drunkenness.' 

Sir  To.     Out,  scab  !  69 

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

Mai.  'Besides,  you  waste  the  treasure  of  your  time  witii 
a  foolish  knight,' — 

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

Mai.     '  One  Sir  Andrew,' — 

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

x^fal.  (what  employment  have  we  here  ?   ; 

[  Taking  up  the  letter. 

Fab.     Now  is  the  woodcock  near  the  gin. 

Sir  To.  O,  peace !  and  the  spirit  of  humours  intimate 
reading  aloud  to  him  !  79 

Mai.  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.      . 

Sir  And.     Her  C's,  her  U's  and  her  T's  :  why  that .'' 

Mai.  \^Reads\  'To  the  unknown  beloved,  this,  and  my 
good  wishes ' : — her  very  phrases !  By  your  leave,  wa.x. 
Soft !  and  thcvimpressure,  her  Lucrece,  with  which  she  uses 
to  seal :  'tis  my  lady.      To  whom  should  tiiis  be  .'' 

Fab.     This  wins  him.  liver  and  all. 

Mai.     \Reads\ 

Jove  knows  I  love  : 

But  who .'  90 

Lips,  do  not  move  ; 
No  man  must  know. 
'  No  man  must  know.'     What  follows  ?  the  numbers  altered ! 
*  No  man  must  know  : '  if  this  should  be  thee,  Malvolio .' 
Sir  To.      Marry,  hang  thee,  brock  ! 

D 


34  TWELFTH   NIGHT. 

Mai.     [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. 

Fab.    A  fustian  riddle  !  too 

Sir  To.     Excellent  wench,  say  I. 

Mai.  '  M,  O,  A,  I,  doth  sway  my  life.'  Nay,  but  first,  let 
me  see,  let  me  see,  let  me  see. 

Fab.     What  dish  o'  poison  has  she  dressed  him ! 

Sir  To.     And  with  what  wing  the  staniel  checks  at  it ! 

Mai.  '  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,—  m 

Sir  To.     O,  ay,  make  up  that :  he  is  now  at  a  cold  scent. 

Fab.  vSowter  will  cry  upon 't  for  all  this,  though  it  be  as 
rank  as  a  fox.  ^' 

Mai.     M, — Malvolio  ;  M, — why,  that  begins  my  name. 

Fah.  Did  not  I  say  he  would  work  it  out?  the  cur  is 
excellent  at  faults. 

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

Fab.     And  O  shall  end,  I  hope.  120 

Sir  To.     Ay,  or  I  '11  cudgel  him,  and  make  him  cry  O ! 

Mai.     And  then  I  comes  behind. 

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

Mai.  M,  O,  A,  I  ;  this  simulation  is  not  as  the  former : 
and  yet,  to  crush  this  a  little,  it  would  bow  to  me,  for  every 
one  of  these  letters  are  in  my  name.  Soft !  here  follows 
prose  ^  ia8 

[Reads]  'If  this  full  into  thy  hand,  revolve.  \In  my  stars jl 
am  above  thee  ;  but  be  not  afraid  of  greatness  :  some  are 


ACT   II.    SCENE    V.  :55 

bom  preat,  somr  achieve  ejeatncss,  and  ■^omc  have  i;rc.iinL--s 
thnist  upon  'em.  Thy  Fates  open  their  hands;  let  thy  blood 
and  spirit  embrace  them  ;  and,  to  inure  thyself  to  wiiat  thou 
art  like  to  be,  cast  thy  humble  slough  and  appear  fresh.  He 
/  opposite  with  aVjcinsman,!  surly  with  servants ;  let  thy  toni^ue 
ttang^rguments  of  state  ;  put  thyself  into  the  trick  of  singu- 
larity :j  she  thus  advises  thee  that  sighs  for  thee.  Remember 
who  commended  thy  yellow  stockings,  and  wished  to  see 
thee  ever  cross-gartered  :  I  say,  remember.  ("»o  to,  thou 
art  made,  if  thou  desirest  to  be  so  ;  if  not,  let  me  see  thee 
a  steward  still,  the  fellow  of  servants,  and  not  worthy  to 
touch  Fortune's  fingers.  Farewell.  She  that  would  alter 
ser\ices  with  thee,  143 

The  Fortunate-Unhappy.' 

VDaylight  and  champain  ^discovers  not  more :  this  is  open. 
I  will  be  proud,  I  will  read'  politic  authors,  I  will  batfle  Sir 
Toby,  I  will  wash  off  gross  acquaintance,  I  will  be  point- 
devise  the  very  man.  I  do  not  now  fool  myself,  to  let  imagin- 
ation jade  me  ;  ^for  every  reason  excites  to  this,  that  my 
lady  loves  me.  She  did  commend  my  yellow  stockings  of 
late,  she  did  praise  my  leg  being  cross-gartered  ;  and  in  this 
she  manifests  herself  to  my  love,  and  with  a  kind  of  injunc- 
tion drives  me  to  these  habits  of  her  liking.  I  thank  my 
stars  I  am  happy.  I  will  be  strange,  stout,  in  yellow  stock- 
ings, and  cross-gartered,  even  with  the  swiftness  of  putting 
on.  Jove  and  my  stars  be  praised!  Here  is  yet  a  post- 
script. 

[Reads]  '  Thou  canst  not  choose  but  know  who  I  am.  If 
thou  entertainest  my  love,  let  it  appear  in  thy  smiling  ;  thy 
smiles  become  thee  well ;  therefore  in  my  presence  still 
smile,  dear  my  sweet,  I  prithee.'  161 

Jove,  I  thank  thee  :    I  will  smile  ;    I   will  do  everything 
that  thou  wilt  have  me.  [Exit. 

Fad.     I  will  not  give  my  part  of  this  sport  for  a  pension 
of  thousands  to  be  paid  from  the  Sophy. 

Sir  To.     I  could  marry  this  wench  for  this  device. 

Sir  And.     So  could  1  too. 

D   2 


36  TWELFTH  NIGHT. 

Sir  To.  And  ask  no  other  dowry  with  her  but  such 
another  jest. 

Sir  And.     Nor  I  neither.  170 

Fab.     Here  comes  my  noble  gull-catcher. 

Re-enter  Maria. 

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

Sir  And.     Or  o'  mine  either  } 

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

Sir  And.     V  faith,  or  I  either.'' 

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

Mar.     Nay,  but  say  true  ;  does  it  work  upon  him  ? 

Sir  To.     Like  aqua-vitse  with  a  midwife.  180 

Mar.  If  you  will  then  see  the  fruits  of  the  sport,  mark 
his  first  approach  before  my  lady  :  he  will  come  to  her  in 
yellow  stockings,  and  'tis  a  colour  she  abhors,  and  cross- 
gartered,  a  fashion  she  detests  ;  and  he  will  smile  upon  her, 
which  will  now  be  so  unsuitable  to  her  disposition,  being 
addicted  to  a  melancholy  as  she  is,  that  it  cannot  but  turn 
him  into  a  notable  contempt.     If  you  will  see  it,  follow  me. 

Sir  To.  To  the  gates  of  Tartar,  thou  most  excellent  devil 
of  wit ! 

Sir  And.     I  '11  make  one  too.  [Exeunt. 


ACT  III. 

Scene  I.    Oiawa/s  garden. 
Enter  ViOLA,  and  CLOWN  with  a  tabor. 

Vio.     Save  thee,  friend,  and  thy  music  :    dost  thou  live 
by  thy  tabor .? 

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


ACT   III.    SCENE   I.  37 

Vio.     Art  thou  a  churchman  ? 

Clo.  No  such  matter,  sir  :  I  do  live  by  the  church  ;  for  I 
do  live  at  my  house,  and  my  house  doth  stand  by  the 
church. 

Vio.  So  thou  mayst  say,  the  king  lies  by  a  beggar,  it  a 
beggar  dwell  near  him  ;  or,  the  church  stands  by  thy  tabor, 
if  thy  tabor  stand  by  the  church.  lo 

do.  You  have  said,  sir.  To  see  this  age !  A  sentence 
is  but  a  cheveril  glove  to  a  good  wit  :  how  quickly  the  wrong 
side  may  be  turned  outward  I 

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

Clo.     I  would,  therefore,  my  sister  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  sister  wanton.  But  indeed  words 
are  very  rascals  since  bonds  disgraced  them.  -o 

Vio.     Thy  reason,  man  .' 

Clo.  Troth,  sir,  I  can  yield  you  none  without  words  ;  and 
words  are  grown  so  false,  1  am  loath  to  prove  reason  with 
them. 

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

Clo.  Not  so,  sir,  I  do  care  for  something  ;  but  in  my 
conscience,  sir,  I  do  not  care  for  you  :  if  that  be  to  care  for 
nothing,  sir,  I  would  it  would  make  you  invisible. 

Vio.     Art  not  thou  the  Lady  Olivia's  fool  ?  3° 

Clo.  No,  indeed,  sir  ;  the  Lady  Olivia  has  no  folly  :  she 
will  keep  no  fool,  sir,  till  she  be  married  ;  and  fools  are  as 
like  husbands  as  pilchards  are  to  herrings  ;  the  husband  's 
the  bigger  :  1  am  indeed  not  her  fool,  but  her  corrupter  oJ 
words. 

Vio.     I  saw  thee  late  at  the  Count  Orsino's, 
Clo.     Foolery,  sir,  does  walk  about  the  orb  like  the  sun, 
it  shines  everywhere.     I   would  be  sorry,  sir,  but  ^the  fool 


38  TWELFTH  NIGHT. 

should  be  as  oft  with  your  master  as  with  my  mistress  :  I 
think  I  saw  your  wisdom  there.  40 

Via.  Nay,  an  thou  pass  upon  me,  I  '11  no  more  with  thee. 
Hold,  there 's  expenses  ^or  thee. 

Clo.  Now  Jove,  in  his  next  commodity  of  hair,  send  thee 
a  beard ! 

Vio.  By  my  troth,  I  '11  tell  thee,  I  am  almost  sick  for 
one  ;  [Aside]  though  I  would  not  have  it  grow  on  my  chin. 
Is  thy  lady  within  ? 

Clo.     Would  not  a  pair  of  these  have  bred,  sir?  . 

Vio.     Yes,  being  kept  together  and  put  to  use. 

Clo.  I  would  play  Lord  Pandarus  of  Phrygia,  sir,  to  bring 
a  Cressida  to  this  Troilus.  51 

Vio.     I  understand  you,  sir  ;  'tis  well  begged. 

Clo.  The  matter,  I  hope,  is  not  great,  sir,  begging  but 
a  beggar  :  Cressida  was  a  beggar.  My  lady  is  within,  sir. 
I  will  construe  to  them  whence  you  come  ;  who  you  are  and 
what  you  would  are  out  of  my  welkin,  I  might  say  'element,' 
but  the  word  is  over-worn,  j  \^Exit. 

Vio.     This  fellow  is  wise  enough  to  play  the  fool ; 
And  to  do  that  well  craves  a  kind  of  wit : 
He  must  observe  their  mood  on  whom  he  jests,  60 

The  quality  of  persons,  and  the  time. 
And,  like  the  haggard,  check  at  every  feather 
That  comes  before  his  eye.     This  is  a  practice 
As  full  of  labour  as  a  wise  man's  art  : 
For  folly  that  he  wisely  shows  is  fit ; 
But  wise  men,  folly-fairn,  quite  taint  their  wit. 

Enter  Sir  Toby,  attd  Sir  Andrew. 

Sir  To.     Save  you,  gentleman. 

Vio.     And  you,  sir. 

Sir  And.     Dieu  vous  garde,  monsieur. 

Vio.     Et  vous  aussi  ;  votrc  serviteur.  70 

Sir  And.     1  hope,  sir,  you  are  ;  and  I  am  >  ours. 


ACT   III.    SCEXE    }.  39 

Sir  To.  Will  you  encounter  the  house  ?  my  niece  is 
desirous  you  should  enter,  if  your  trade  be  to  her. 

Vio.  I  am  bound  to  your  niece,  sir  ;  1  mean,  she  is  the 
list  of  my  voyage. 

Sir  To.  (J'aste  your  legs,  sir  ;  put  them  to  motion. 

Vio.  My  legs  do  better  understand  me,  sir,  than  I  under- 
stand what  you  mean  by  bidding  me  taste  my  legs. 

Sir  To.     I  mean,  to  go,  sir,  to  enter. 

Vio.  I  will  answer  you  with  gait  and  entrance.  But  we 
ara^^revented.)  8 1 

Enter  Olivia  and  Mari.a. 

Most  excellent  accomplished  lady,  the  heavens  rain  odours 
on  you  ! 

Sir  And.  That  youth 's  a  rare  courtier  :  '  Rain  odours ' ; 
veil. 

Vio.  My  matter  hath  no  voice,  lady,  but  to  your  own 
most  pregnant  and  vouchsafed  ear. 

Sir  And.  'Odours,'  'pregnant'  and  'vouchsafed':  I'll 
get  'em  all  three  all  ready. 

Oli.  Let  the  garden  door  be  shut,  and  leave  me  to  my 
hearing.  [Exeunt  Sir  Toby,  Sir  Andreio,  and  Maria.] 
Give  me  your  hand,  sir.  9^ 

Vio.     My  duty,  madam,  and  most  humble  service. 

Oti.     What  is  your  name  ? 

Vio.     Cesario  is  your  servant's  name,  fair  princess. 

on.     My  servant,  sir  !    'Twas  never  merry  world 
SinceUowly  feigning  i  was  call'd  compliment: 
You  're  servant  to  iHe  Count  Orsino,  youth. 

Vio.     And  he  is  yours,  and  his  must  needs  be  yours  : 
Your  servant's  servant  is  your  servant,  madam.  loo 

0/i.     For  him,  I  think  not  on  him  :    for  his  thoughts. 
Would  they  were  blanks,  rather  than  fill'd  with  me! 

Vio.     Madam,   !   come  to  whet  your  gentle  thoughts 
On  his  behalf 

0/i.  (J,  by  your  Icuc-,   1   pr.i>    >ou, 


40  TWELFTH  NIGHT. 

I  bade  you  never  speak  again  of  him  : 
But,  would  you  undertake  another  suit, 
I  had  rather  hear  you  to  solicit  that 
Than  music  from  the  spheres. 

Vio.  Dear  lady, — 

Oli.     Give  me  leave,  beseech  you.     I  did  send, 
After  the  last  enchantment  you  did  here,  no 

A  ring  in  chase  of  you  :    so  did  I  (abuse  ^ 
Myself,  my  servant  and,  I  fear  me,  you  : 
Under  your  hard  construction  must  I  sit, 
To  force  that  on  you,  in  a  shameful  cunning. 
Which  you  knew  none  of  yours  :    what  might  you  think? 
Have  you  not  set  mine  honour  at  the  stake 
And  baited  it  with  all  the  unmuzzled  thoughts 
That  tyrannous  heart  can  think .''     To  one  of  your  receiving  ] 
Enough  is  shown  :    a  cypress,  not  a  bosom, 
Hideth  my  heart.     So,  let  me  hear  you  speak.  120 

Vio.     I  pity  you. 

Oli.  That 's  a  degree,  to  love. 

Vio.     No,  not  a  grise  ;   for  'tis  a  vulgar  proof,j 
That  very  oft  we  pity  enemies. 

Oli.     Why,  then,  methinks  'tis  time  to  smile  again. 

0  world,  how  apt  the  poor  are  to  be  proud  ! 
If  one  should  be  a  prey,  how  much  the  better 

To  fall  before  the  lion  than  the  wolf!  [Clock  strikes. 

The  clock  upbraids  me  with  the  waste  of  time. 

Be  not  afraid,  good  youth,  I  will  not  have  you  : 

And  yet,  when  wit  and  youth  is  come  to  harvest,  130 

Your  wife  is  like  to  reap  a  proper  man  : 

There  lies  your  way,  due  west.j 

Vio.  Then  westward-ho  ! 

Grace  and  good  disposition  attend  your  ladyship ! 
You  '11  nothing,  madam,  to  my  lord  by  me .'' 

^Oli.     Stay  :     ^ 

1  prithee,  tell  me  what  thou  think'st  of  me. 

Vio.     That  you  do  think  you  are  not  what  you  are. 


ACT  III.   SCEXE   II.  41 

Oli.     If  I  think  so,   I  think  the  same  of  you. 

Vto.    Then  think  you  riyht  ;    I   am  not  what  I  am. 

Oil.     I  would  you  were  as  I  would  have  you  be  I      140 

Vio.    Would  it  be  better,  madam,  than  I  am? 
I  wish  it  might,  for  now  I  am  your  fool. 

Oil.     O,  what  a  deal  of  scorn  looks  beautiful 
In  the  contempt  and  anger  of  his  lip! 
A  murderous  guilt  shows  not  itself  more  soon 
Than   love  that  would  seem  hid  :    love's  night  is  noon. 
Ccsario,  by  the  roses  of  the  spring, 
Ijy  maidhood,  honour,  truth  and  every  thing, 
I  love  thee  so,  that,  maugre  all  thy  pride, 
Nor  wit  nor  reason  can  my  passion  hide.  150 

Do  not  extort  thy  reasons  from  this  clause, 
^or  that  ]  woo,  thou  therefore  hast  no  cause  ; 
But  rather  reason  thus  with  reason  fetter. 
Love  sought  is  good,  but  given  unsought  is  better. 

Vio.     By  innocence  I  swear,  and  by  my  youth, 
i  have  one  heart,  one  bosom  and  one  truth. 
And  that  no  woman  has  ;   nor  never  none 
Shall  mistress  be  of  it,  save  I  alone. ) 
And  so  adieu,  good  madam  ;    never  more 
Will  I  my  master's  tears  to  you  deplore.  160 

Oli.     Yet  come  again  ;    for  thou  perhaps  mayst  move 
That  heart,  which  now  abhors,  to  like  his  lo\e.    [^Excunt. 


Scene  II.    Olw i\'s  house. 
Enter  Sir  Touy,  Sir  Andrew,  and  F.\iii.\N. 

Sir  And.     No,  faith,  I  '11  not  stay  a  jot  longer. 

Sir  To.     Thy  reason,  dear  venom,  give  thy  reason. 

Fab.     You  must  needs  yield  your  reason,  Sir  Andrew. 

Sir  And.  Marry,  I  saw  yOai,  niece  do  more  favours  to 
the  count's  ser\'ing-man  than  ever  she  bestowed  upon  nie  ; 
I  saw  't  i'  the  orchard. 


42  TWELFTH   NIGHT. 

St'r  To.  Did  she  see  thee  the  while,  old  boy?  tell  me 
that. 

Sir  And.     As  plain  as  I  see  you  now. 

Fab.  This  was  a  great  argument  of  love  in  her  toward 
you.  1 1 

Sir.  Ajtd.     'Slight,  will  you  make  an  ass  o'  me  ? 

Fab.  I  will  prove  it  legitimate,  sir,  upon  the  oaths  of 
judgement  and  reason. 

Sir  To.  And  they  have  been  grand-jurymen  since  before 
Noah  was  a  sailor. 

Fab.  She  did  show  favour  to  the  youth  in  your  sight  only 
(  to  exasperate  you,  to  awake  your  dormouse  valour,  to  put 
fire  in  yourJieart,  and  brimstone  in  your  liver.  You  should 
yf  Jhen  have  accosted^  her  ;  ^J  witlT  s~bme  "excellent  jests,  fire- 
new  from  the  mint,  you  should  have  banged  the  youth  into 
dumbness.  This  was  looked  for  at  your  hand,  and  this  was 
balked  :  the  double  gilt  of  this  opportunity  you  let  time 
wash  off,  and  you  are  now  sailed  into  the  north  of  my  lady's 
opinion  ;  where  you  will  hang  like  an  icicle  on  a  Dutch- 
man's beard,  unless  you  do  redeem  it  by  some  laudable 
attempt  either  of  valour  or  policy.  27 

Sir  And.  An 't  be  any  way,  it  must  be  with  valour  ;  for 
policy  I  hate  :  I  had  as  lief  be  a  Brownist  as  a  politician. 

Sir  To.  Why,  then,  build  me  thy  fortunes  upon  the  basis 
of  valour.  Challenge  me  the  count's  youth  to  fight  with 
him  ;  hurt  him  in  eleven  places  :  my  niece  shall  take  note 
of  it  ;  and  assure  thyself,  there  is  no!  love-broker  ^n  the 
world  can  more  prevail  in  man's  commendation  with  woman 
than  report  of  valour. 

Fah.     There  is  no  way  but  this.  Sir  Andrew. 

Sir  And.  Will  cither  of  you  bear  me  a  challenge  to 
him?  .  V        ^         ,    38 

Sir  To.  Go,  write  it  in  a  martial  hand  ;  be  curst  and 
brief;  it  is  no  matter  how  witty,  so  it  be  eloquent  and  full 
of  invention  :  taunt  him  with  the  license  of  ink  :  if  thou 
thou'st  him  some  thrice,  it  shall  not  be  amiss  ;  and  as  many 


ACT    III.    SCENE  11.  43 

lies  as  will  lie  in  thy  sheet  of  paper,  although  the  sheet  were 
big  enough  for  the  bed  of  Ware  in  England,  set  'em  down  : 
go,  about  it.  Let  there  be  gall  enough  in  thy  ink,  though 
thou  write  with  a  goose-pen,  no  matter  :  about  it. 

Sir  And.     Where  shall  I  find  you  ? 

Sir  To.     We  '11  call  thee  at  the  cubiculo  :  go, 

\Exit  Sir  Andrew. 
Fab.     This  is  a  dear  manakin  to  you,  Sir  Toby. 

Sir  To.  \  have  been  dear  to  him,  lad,  some  two  thousand 
strong,  or  so.  5 1 

Fab.  We  shall  have  a  rare  letter  from  him  :  but  you  '11 
not  deliver 't  ? 

Sir  To.  Never  trust  me,  then  ;  and  by  all  means  stir  on 
the  youth  to  an  answer.  I  think  oxen  and  wainropes  cannot 
hale  them  together.  For  Andrew,  if  he  were  opened,  and 
you  find  so  much  blood  in  his  liver  as  will  clog  the  foot  of 
a  flea,  I  '11  eat  the  rest  of  the  anatomy. 

Fab.  And  his  opposite,  the  youth,  bears  in  his  visage 
no  great  presage  of  cruelty.  6o 

Enter  Maria. 

Sir  To.     Look,  where  the  youngest  wren  of  nine  comes. 

Mar.  If  you  desire  th^pleen,iand  will  laugh  yourselves 
into  stitches,  follow  me.  Yond  gull  Malvolio  is  turned 
heathen,  a  very  renegado  ;  for  there  is  no  Christian,  that 
means  to  be  saved  by  believing  rightly,  can  ever  believe 
such  impossible  passages  of  grussness.  He 's  in  yellow 
stockings. 

Sir  To.     And  cross-gartered  ?  68 

Mar.  Most  villanously ;  like  a  pedant  that  keeps  a 
school  i'  the  church.  I  have  dogged  him,  like  his  murderer. 
He  does  obey  every  point  of  the  letter  that  I  dropped  to 
betray  him  :  he  does  buiilc  his  face  into  more  lines  than 
is  in  the  new  map  with  the  augmentation  of  the  Indies  : 
you  have  not  seen  buch  a  thing  as  'tis.    I  can  hardly  forbear 


44  TWELFTH  NIGHT. 

hurling  things  at  him.     I  know  my  lady  will  strike  him  :  if 
she  do,  he  '11  smile  and  take  't  for  a  great  favour. 
Sir  To.     Come,  bring  us,  bring  us  where  he  is. 

{Exeunt. 

Scene  III.    A  street. 

Enter  Sebastian  and  Antonio. 

Scb.     I  would  not  by  my  will  have  troubled  you  ; 
But,  since  you  make  your  pleasure  of  your  pains, 
f  will  no  further  chide  you. 

Ant.     I  could  not  stay  behind  you  :    my  desire, 
More  sharp  than  filed  steel,  did  spur  me  forth  ; 
And  not  all  love  to  see  you,  though  so  much 
As  might  have  drawn  one  to  a  longer  voyage, 
But  jealousy  what  might  befall  your  travel, 
Being  skilless  in  these  parts  ;   which  to  a  stranger, 
Unguided  and  unfriended,  often  prove  lo 

Rough  and  unhospitable  :    my  willing  love, 
The  rather  by  these  arguments  of  fear, 
Set  forth  in  your  pursuit. 

Seb.  My  kind  Antonio, 

I  can  no  other  answer  make  but  thanks, 

fAnd  thanks  ;   and  ever oft  good  turns 

Are  shuffled  off  with  such  uncurrent  pay  : 
But,  were  my  worth  ;as  is  my  conscience  firm,^ 
You  should  find  better  dealing.  "vWhat's  to  do  J) 
Shall  we  go  see  the  reliqucs  of  this  town .'' 

Ant.     To-morrow,  sir :   best  first  go  see  your  lodging. 

Seb.     I  am  not  weary,  and  'tis  long  to  night  :  2 1 

I  pray  you,  let  us  satisfy  our  eyes 
With  the  memorials  and  the  things  of  fame 
That  do  renown  this  city. 

Ant.  Would  you  'Id  pardon  me  ; 

I  do  not  without  danger  walk  these  streets  : 
Once,  in  a  sea-fight,  'gainst  the  count  his  galleys 
I  did  some  service  ;   of  such  note  indeed, 


ACT    111.    SCENF.    IV.  45 

That  were  I  ta'en  here  it  would  scarce  be  answer'd. 

Seb.     Belike  ycni  slew  great  number  of  his  people. 

Ani.     The  oftence  is  not  of  such  a  bloody  nature  ;      30 
Albeit  the  quality  of  the  time  and  quarrel 
Might  well  have  given  us  bloody  argument. 
It  might  have  since  been  answer'd  in  repaying 
What  we  took  from  them  ;    which,  for  traffic's  sake, 
Most  of  our  city  did  :    only  myself  stood  out  ; 
For  which,  if  I  be  lapsed  in  this  place, 
I  shall  pay  dear. 

Seb.  Do  not  then  walk  too  open. 

Ant.     It  doth  not  fit  me.     Hold,  sir,  here's  my  purse. 
In  the  south  suburbs,  at  the  Elephant, 
Is  best  to  lodge:    I  will  bespeak  our  diet,'  40 

Whiles  you  beguile  the  time  and  feed  your  knowledge 
With  viewing  of  the  town  :    there  shall  you  have  me.  ^ 

Seb.     Why  I  your  purse  ? 

Ant.     Haply  your  eye  shall  light  upon  some  toy 
You  have  desire  to  purchase  ;   and  your  store, 
I  think,  is  not  for  idle  markets,  sir. 

Seb.     I  '11  be  your  purse-bearer  and  leave  you 
For  an  hour. 

Ant.     To  the  Elephant. 

Seb.  I  do  remember.  \Excunt. 


Scene  IV.    Olivia'.^;  garden. 
Enter  Olivia  and  Maria. 

Oil.     I   have  sent  after  him  :    he  says  he  '11  come  ; 
How  shall  I  feast  him?   what  bestow  of  him  .' y 
For  youth  is  bought  more  oft  than  begg'd  or  borrow'd. 
I  speak  too  loud.  x 

Where  is  Malvolio.'   he  is  iad  and  civil,  j 
•And  suits  well  for  a  servant  with  my  fortunes  : 
Where  is  Malvolio .'' 


46  TWELFTH  NTGHT. 

Mar.  He 's  coming,  madam  ;  but  in  very  strange  manner. 
He  is,  sure,  possessed,  madam. 

OH.     Why,  what's  the  matter?   does  he  rave?  10 

Mar.  No,  madam,  he  does  nothing  but  smile  :  \  your 
ladyship  were  best  to  have  some  guard  about  you,  \i  he 
come  ;  for,  sure,  the  man  is  tainted  in  's  wits. 

Oli.     Go  call  him  hither.     \^Exit.  Maria.]     I  am  as  mad 
as  he, 
If  sad  and  merry  madness  equal  be. 

Re-enter  Maria,  with  Malvolio. 

How  now,  MalvoHo ! 

Mai.     Sweet  lady,  ho,  ho. 

Oli.     Smilest  thou  ? 
I  sent  for  thee  upon  a  sad  occasion.  19 

Mai.  Sad,  lady !  I  could  be  sad  :  this  does  make  some 
obstruction  in  the  blood,  this  cross-gartering  ;  but  what  of 
that  ?  if  it  please  the  eye  of  one,  it  is  with  me  as  the  very 
true  sonnet  is,  '  Please  one,  and  please  all.' 

Oli.  Why,  how  dost  thou,  man  ?  what  is  the  matter  with 
thee? 

Mai.  Not  black  in  my  mind,  though  yellow  in  my  legs. 
It  did  come  to  his  hands,  and  commands  shall  be  executed  : 
I  think  we  do  know  the  sweet  Roman  hand. 

Oli.     Wilt  thou  go  to  bed,  Malvolio?  29 

Mai.     To  bed !   ay,  sweet-heart,  and  I  '11  come  to  thee. 

Oli.  God  comfort  thee  !  Why  dost  thou  smile  so  and 
kiss  thy  hand  so  oft  ? 

Mar.     How  do  you,  Malvolio? 

Mai.     At  your  request  1  yes  ;  nightingales  answer  daws. 

Mar.  Why  appear  you  with  this  ridiculous  boldness 
before  my  lady  ? 

Mai.     'Be  not  afraid  of  greatness' :    'twas  well  writ. 

Oli.     What  meanest  thou  by  that,  Malvolio? 

Mai.     '  Some  are  born  great,' — 


ACT  III.    SCF^E  IV.  47 

0/i.      Ha!  40 

A/a/.     '  Some  achieve  greatness,' — 

0/t.     What  sayest  thou  ? 

Afa/.     'And  some  have  greatness  thrust  upon  them.' 

0/i.     Heaven  restore  thee ! 

Afa/.  '  Remember  who  commended  thy  yellow  stock- 
ings,'— 

0/t.     Thy  yellow  stockings  ! 

A/a/.     'And  wished  to  see  thee  cross-gartered.' 

O/i.     Cross-gartered  I 

A/a/.     '  Co  to,  thou  art  made,  if  thou  desirest  to  be  so' ; — 

0/t.     Am  1  made?  51 

Afa/.    '  If  not,  let  me  see  thee  a  servant  still.' 

0/t.     Why,  this  is  very  midsummer  madness. 

Enter  Servant. 
Ser.     Madam,  the  young  gentleman  of  the  Count  Orsino's 
is  returned  :   I  could  hardly  entreat  him  back  :  he  attends 
your  ladyship's  pleasure. 

Oli.  I  '11  come  to  him.  \Exit  Servant.\  Good  Maria, 
let  this  fellow  be  looked  to.  Where's  my  cousin  Toby.? 
Let  some  of  my  people  have  a  special  care  of  him  :  I  would 
not  have  him  miscarry  for  the  half  of  my  dowry.  60 

[Exeun/  0/ivt'a  and  Alaria. 

Ala/.  O,  ho  !  do  you  come  near  me  now  ?  no  worse  man 
than  Sir  Toby  to  look  to  me  !  This  concurs  directly  with 
the  letter  :  she  sends  him  on  purpose,  that  I  may  appear 
stubborn  to  him  ;  for  she  incites  me  to  that  in  the  letter. 
'  Cast  thy  humble  slough,'  says  she  ;  '  be  opposite  with  a 
kinsman,  surly  with  servants  ;  let  thy  tongue  tang  with 
arguments  of  state  ;  put  thyself  into  the  trick  of  singularity' ; 
and  consequently  ;sets  down  the  manner  how;  as,  a  sad 
face,  a  reverend  carriage,  a  slow  tongue,  in  the  habit  of 
some  sir  of  note,  and  so  forth.  I  have  limed  her  ;  but  it  is 
Jove's  doing,  and  Jove  make  me  thankful  !  And  when  she 
went  away  now,  '  Let  this  fellow  be  looked  to' :  fellow  !  not 


48  TWELFTH   NIGHT. 

Malvolio,  not  after  my  degree,  but  fellow.  Why,  every  thing 
/  adheres  together,  that  no  dram  of  a  scruple,  no  scruple  of  a 
^scruple,  no  obstacle,  no  incredulous  or  unsafe  circumstance — 
What  can  be  said  ?  Nothing  that  can  be  can  come  between 
me  and  the  full  prospect  of  my  hopes.  Well,  Jove,  not  I,  is 
the  doer  of  this,  and  he  is  to  be  thanked.  78 

Re-enter  Maria,  with  Sir  Toby  and  Fabian. 

Sir  To.  Which  way  is  he,  in  the  name  of  sanctity  ?  If 
all  the  devils  of  hell  be  drawn  in  little,Jand  Legion  himself 
possessed  him,  yet  I  '11  speak  to  him. 

Fab.  Here  he  is,  here  he  is.  How  is 't  with  you,  sir  ? 
how  is  't  with  you,  man  ? 

Mai.  Go  off;  I  discard  you:  let  me  enjoy  my  \private  i 
go  off. 

Mar.  Lo,  how  hollow  the  fiend  speaks  within  him  !  did 
not  I  tell  you  ?  Sir  Toby,  my  lady  prays  you  to  have  a  care 
of  him. 

Mai.     Ah,  ha  !    does  she  so  ?  89 

Sir  To.  Go  to,  go  to  ;  peace,  peace  ;  we  must  deal 
gently  with  him  :  let  me  alone.  How  do  you,  Malvolio  1 
how  is 't  with  you  ?  What,  man  !  defy  the  devil  :  consider, 
he  's  an  enemy  to  mankind. 

Mai.     Do  you  know  what  you  say  ? 

Mar.  La  you,  an  you  speak  ill  of  the  devil,  how  he  takes 
it  at  heart !  >  Pray  God,  he  be  not  bewitched  ! 

Fab.     Carry  his  water  to  the  wise  woman. 

Mar.  Marry,  and  it  shall  be  done  to-morrow  morning,  if 
I  live.     My  lady  would  not  lose  him  for  more  than  I  '11  say. 

Mai.     How  now,  mistress  !  100 

Mar.     O  Lord! 

Sir  To.  Prithee,  hold  thy  peace  ;  this  is  not  the  way  : 
do  you  not  see  you  move  him  ?    let  me  alone  with  him. 

Fab.  Noway  but  gentleness;  gently,  gently :  the  fiend 
is  rough,  and  will  not  be  roughly  used. 


ACT   III.    SCEyK    IV. 


4V 


Sir  To.  Why,  how  now,  my  bawcock  !  how  dost  thou, 
chuck  ? 

McU.     Sir ! 

Sir  To.  Ay,  Biddy,  come  with  me.  What,  man  !  'tis  not 
for  gravity  to  play  at  cherry-pit  with  Satan  :  hang  him,  foul 
collier!  m 

Mar.  Get  him  to  say  his  prayers,  good  Sir  Toby,  gel 
him  to  pray. 

Mai.     My  prayers,  minx  ! 

Mar.     No,  I  warrant  you,  he  will  not  hear  of  godliness. 

Mai.  Go,  hang  yourselves  all !  you  are  idle  shallow 
things  :  I  am  not  of  your  element  :  you  shall  know  more 
hereafter.  [Exit. 

Sir  To.     1st  possible.^ 

Fab.  If  this  were  played  upon  a  stage  now,  I  could 
condemn  it  as  an  improbable  fiction.  1 2 1 

Sir  To.  His  very  genius  hath  taken  the  infection  of  the 
device,  man. 

Mar.  Nay,  pursue  him  now,  lest  the  device  take  airland 
taint.  "^  / 

Fad.     Why,  we  shall  make  him  mad  indeed. 

Mar.     The  house  will  be  the  quieter. 

Sir  To.  Come,  we  '11  have  him  in  a  dark  room  and 
bound.  My  niece  is  already  in  the  belief  that  he's  mad  : 
we  may  carry  it  thus,  for  our  pleasure  and  his  penance,  till 
our  very  pastime,  tired  out  of  breath,  prompt  us  to  have 
mercy  on  him  :  at  which  time  we  will  bring  the  device  to 
the  bar  and  crown  thee  for  a  finder  of  madmen.  But  sec, 
but  see.  134 

Enter  Sir  Andrew. 

Fab.     More  matter  for  a  '^lay  morning.  / 

Sir  And.    Here  's  the  challenge,  read  it :  I  warrant  there  's 
vinegar  and  pepper  in  't. 
Fab.     Is't  so  saucy  ? 

Sir  And.     Ay,  is't,  I   warrant  him;    do  but  read. 

£ 


50  TWELFTH  NIGHT. 

Sir  To.  Give  nie.  {Rcads~\  '  Youth,  whatsoever  thou 
art,  thou  art  but  a  scurvy  fellow.'  141 

Fab.     Good,  and  valiant. 

Sir  To.  {Readsl  '  Wonder  not,  nor  admire  not  in  thy 
mind,  why  I  do  call  thee  so,  for  I  will  show  thee  no 
reason  for't.' 

Fal).  A  good  note  ;  that  keeps  you  from  the  blow  of 
the  law. 

S/r  To.  \_Reads\  '  Thou  comest  to  the  lady  Olivia,  and  in 
my  sight  she  uses  thee  kindly  :  but  thou  liest  in  thy  throat  ; 
that  is  not  the  matter  I  challenge  thee  for.'  150 

Fab.     Very  brief,  and  to  exceeding  good  sense — less. 

Sir  To.  \^Reads'\  '  I  will  waylay  thee  going  home  ;  where 
if  it  be  thy  chance  to  kill  me,' — 

Fab.     Good. 

Sir  To.  [/J^oflTj-]  'Thou  killest  me  like  a  rogue  and  a 
villain.' 

Fab.     Still  you  keep  o'  the  windy  side  of  the  law  :;  good. 

Sir  To.  [Reads]  '  Fare  thee  well ;  and  God  have  mercy 
upon  one  of  our  souls  !  He  may  have  mercy  upon  mine  ; 
but  my  hope  is  better,  and  so  look  to  thyself  Thy  friend, 
as  thou  usest  him,  and  thy  sworn  enemy,  161 

Andrew  Aguecheek.' 
If  this  letter  move  him  not,  his  legs  cannot  :   I  '11  give  't  him. 

Afar.  You  may  have  very  fit  occasion  for't  :  he  is  now 
in  some  commerce  with  my  lady,  and  will  by  and  by 
depart. 

Sir  To.  Go,  Sir  Andrew  ;  scout  me  for  him  at  the 
corner  of  the  orchard  like  a  bum-baily  :  so  soon  as  ever 
thou  seest  him,  draw  ;  and,  as  thou  drawest,  swear  horrible  ; 
for  it  comes  to  pass  oft  that  a  terrible  oath,  with  a  swagger- 
ing accent  sharply  twanged  off,  gives  manhood  more  appro- 
bation than  ever  proof  itself  would  have  earned  him. 
Away !  173 

Sir  A/id.     Nay,  let  me  alone  for  swearing.  [Exil. 

Sir   To.     Now    will    not    I    deliver    his    letter :    for    the 


ACT    in.    SCENE    IV.  51 

behaviour  of  the  youn<j  {gentleman  gives  him  out  to  be  of 
good  capacity  and  breeding  ;  his  employment  between  his 
lord  and  my  niece  confirms  no  less  :  therefore  this  letter, 
being  so  excellently  ignorant,  will  breed  no  terror  in  the 
youth  :  he  will  find  it  comes  from  a  clodpole\  But,  sir,  I 
will  deliver  his  challenge  by  word  of  mouth  ;  set  upon 
Aguecheek  a  notable  report  of  valour  ;  and  drive  the  gentle- 
man, as  I  know  his  youth  will  aptly  receive  it,  into  a  most 
hideous  opinion  of  his  rage,  skill,  fury  and  impetuosity. 
This  will  so  fright  them  both  that  they  will  kill  one  another 
by  the  look,  like  cockatrices.  186 

Re-enter  OLIVIA,  ivith  ViOLA. 

Fab.     Here  he  comes  with  your  niece  :   ;^ive  them  way^ 
till  he  take  leave,  and  presently  after  him.      "^ 

Sir  To.     I    will    meditate   the   while    upon   some  horrid 

message  for  a  challenge.  '  9° 

[Exeunt  Sir  Toby.,  Fabian,  and  Maria. 

on.     I  have  said  too  much  unto  a  heart  of  stone. 
And  laid  mine  honour  too  unchary  out  : 
There 's  something  in  me  t^at  reproves  my  fault  ; 
But  such  a  headstrong  potent  fault  it  is, 
That  it  but  mocks  reproof 

Vio.     With  the  same  '4iaviour  that  your  passion  bears 
(iocs  on  my  master's  grief. 

Oli.     Here,  wear  this  jewel  for  me,  'tis  my  picture  ; 
Refuse  it  not  ;    it  hath  no  tongue  to  vex  you  ; 
And  I  beseech  you  come  again  to-morrow.  200 

What  shall  you  ask  of  me  that  I  '11  deny. 
That  honour  saved  may  upon  asking  give? 

Vio.     Nothing  but  this  ;   your  true  love  for  my  master. 

Oli.     How  with  mine  honour  may  I  give  him  that 
Which  I  have  given  to  you  ? 

Vio.  I  will  acquit  you, 

Oli.     Well,  come  again  to-morrow  :    fare  thee  well  : 
\  fiend  like  thee  might  bear  my  soul  to  hell.  \F.xit. 

E  2 


52  TWELFTH  NIGHT. 

Re-etiter  SiR  Toby  and  Fabian. 
Sir  To.     Gentleman,  God  save  thee. 
Vio.     And  you,  sir.  209 

Sir  To.  That  defence  thou  hast,  betake  thee  to 't :  of 
what  nature  the  wrongs  are  thou  hast  done  him,  I  know 
not  ;  but  thy  intercepter,  full  of  despite,  >  bloody  as  the 
hunter,  attends  thee  at  the  orchard-end  :  dismount  thy  tuck, 
be  yare  in  thy  preparation,  for  thy  assailant  is  quick,  skilful 
and  deadly. 

Vio.  You  mistake,  sir  ;  I  am  sure  no  man  hath  any 
quarrel  to  me  :  my  remembrance  is  very  free  and  clear  from 
any  image  of  offence  done  to  any  man. 

Sir  To.  You'll  find  it  otherwise,  I  assure  you  :  therefore, 
if  you  hold  your  life  at  any  price,  betake  you  to  your  guard  ; 
for  your  opposite  hath  in  him  what  youth,  strength,  skill  and 
wrath  can  furnish  man  withal.  222 

Vio.     I  pray  you,  sir,  what  is  he  ? 

Sir  To.  He  is  knight,  dubbed  with  unhatched  rapier. 
and  on  carpet  consideration  ;  but  he  is  a  devil  in  private 
brawl  :  souls  and  bodies  hath  he  divorced  three  ;  and  his 
incensement  at  this  moment  is  so  implacable,  that  satis- 
faction can  be  none  but  by  pangs  of  death  and  sepulchre. 
Hob,  nob,  is  his  word  ;  give 't  or  take 't. 

Vio.  I  will  return  again  into  the  house  and  desire  some 
conduct  of  the  lady.  I  am  no  fighter.  I  have  heard  of 
some  kind  of  men  that  put  quarrels  purposely  on  others,  to 
taste  their  valour  :  belike  this  is  a  man  of  that  quirk.)      233 

Sir  To.  Sir,  no  ;  his  indignation  derives  itself  out  of  a 
very  competent  injury  :  therefore,  get  you  on  and  give  him 
his  desire.  Back  you  shall  not  to  the  house,  unless  you 
undertake  that  with  me  which  with  as  much  safety  you 
might  answer  him  :  therefore,  on,  or  strip  your  sword  stark 
naked  ;  for  meddle  you  must,  that 's  certain,  or  forswear  to 
wear  iron  about  you.  240 

Vio.  This  is  as  uncivil  as  strange.  I  beseech  you,  do 
me  this  courteous  office,  as  to(  know^  of  the  knight  what  my 


ACT   III.    SCFXF    IV. 


.53 


offence  to  him  is  :  it  is  somcthin;;  of  my  negligence,  nothin;^' 
of  my  purpose. 

Sir  To.  I  will  do  so.  Signior  P'abian,  stay  you  by  ihi>. 
gentleman  till  my  return.  [Exit. 

Vio.     Pray  you,  sir,  do  you  know  of  this  matter? 

Faf>.  I  know  the  knight  is  incensed  against  you,  even  to 
a  mortal  arbitrcment  ;;  but  nothing  of  the  circumstance  more. 

Vio.     rbeseech  you,  what  manner  of  man  is  he}  250 

Fal>.  Nothing  of  that  wonderful  promise,  to  read  him  by 
his  form,  as  you  are  like  to  find  him  in  the  proof  of  his 
valour.  He  is,  indeed,  sir,  the  most  skilful,  bloody  and 
fatal  opposite  that  you  could  possibly  have  found  in  any 
part  of  Illyria.  Will  you  walk  towards  him.^  I  will  make 
your  peace  with  him  if  I  can. 

Vio.  I  shall  be  much  bound  to  you  for 't  :  I  am  one  that 
had  rather  go  with  sir  priest  than  sir  knight  :  I  care  not 
who  knows  so  much  of  my  mettle.  [Exeunt. 

Re-enter  Sir  Toby,  with  Sir  Andrew, 

Sir  To.  Why,  man,  he 's  a  very  devil  ;  I  have  not  seen 
such  a  firago.  I  had  a  pass  with  him,  rapier,  scabbard  and 
all,  and  he  gives  me  the  stuck  in  with  such  a  mortal  motion, 
that  it  is  inevitable  ;  and  on  the  answer,  he  pays  you  as 
surely  as  your  feet  hit  the  ground  they  step  on.  J'hey  say 
he  has  been  fencer  to  the  Sophy.  265 

Sir  And.     Vox  on  't,  I  '11  not  meddle  with  him. 

Sir  To.  Ay,  but  he  will  not  now  be  pacified  :  Fabian 
can  scarce  hold  him  yonder. 

Sir  And.  Plague  on  't,  an  I  thought  he  had  been  valiant 
and  so  cunning  in  fence,  I  'Id  have  seen  him  damned  ere 
I  'Id  have  challenged  him.  Let  him  let  the  matter  slip,  and 
I  '11  give  him  my  horse,  grey  Capilet.  272 

Sir  To.  I  '11  make  the  motion  :  stand  here,  make  a  good 
show  on 't :  this  shall  end  without  the  perdition  of  souls. 
[Aside]  Marry,  I  '11  ride  your  horse  as  well  as  I  ride  you. 


54  TWELFTH  NIGHT. 

Re-enter  Fabian  and  ViOLA. 

[7(9  Fab!]  I  have  his  horse  to  take  up\he  quarrel  :  I  have 
persuaded  him  the  youth  's  a  devil. 

Fab.  He  is  as  horribly  conceited  of  him  ;  and  pants  and 
looks  pale,  as  if  a  bear  were  at  his  heels.  279 

Sir  To.  [To  Vz'o,]  There's  no  remedy,  sir;  he  will  fight 
with  you  for 's  oath  sake  :  marry,  he  hath  better  bethought 
him  of  his  quarrel,  and  he  finds  that  now  scarce  to  be  worth 
talking  of :  therefore  draw,  for  the  supportance  of  his  vow  ; 
he  protests  he  will  not  hurt  you. 

Vzo.  [Aside]  Pray  God  defend  me  !  A  little  thing  would 
make  me  tell  them  how  much  I  lack  of  a  man. 

Fab.     Give  ground,  if  you  see  him  furious. 

Sz'r  To.  Come,  Sir  Andrew,  there 's  no  remedy  ;  the 
gentleman  will,  for  his  honour's  sake,  have  one  bout  with 
you  ;  he  cannot  by  the  duello  avoid  it  :  but  he  has  promised 
me,  as  he  is  a  gentleman  and  a  soldier,  he  will  not  hurt  you. 
Come  on  ;  to't.  292 

Sir  And.     Pray  God,  he  keep  his  oath ! 

Vlo.     I  do  assure  you,  'tis  against  my  will. 

[  They  draiv. 
Enter  ANTONIO. 

Ant.     Put  up  your  sword.     If  this  young  gentleman 
Have  done  offence,  I  take  the  fault  on  me  : 
If  you  offend  him,  I  for  him  defy  you. 
Sir  To.     You,  sir !   why,  what  are  you .'' 
Ant.     One,  sir,  that  for  his  love  dares  yet  do  more 
Than  you  have  heard  him  brag  to  you  he  will.  300 

Sir  To.     Nay,  if  you  be  an  undertaker,  I  am  for  you. 

\Tliey  draw. 
Enter  Officers. 

Fab.     O  good  Sir  Toby,  hold  !  here  come  the  officers. 

Sir  To.     I  '11  be  with  you  anon. 

Vio.     Pray,  sir,  put  your   sword  up,   if  you  please. 

Sir  And.     Marry,  will  I,  sir;    and,  for  that   1  promised 


ACT  in.   SCENE   IV.  55 

you,  I  'II  be  as  good  as  my  word  :  lie  will  bf;ir  you  easily 
and  (reins  veil. 

First  Off.     This  is  the  man  ;   do  thy  office. 

Sec.  Off.     Antonio,   I  arrest    thee   at   the    suit    of  Count 
Orsino.  310 

Ant.     Vou  do  mistake  me,  sir. 

First  Off.     No,  sir,  no  jot  ;    1   know  your  favour  well, 
Though  now  you  have  no  sea-cap  on  your  head. 
Take  him  away  :   he  knows  I  know  him  well. 

Ant.     I  must  obey.    [To  Vio.]  This  comes  with  seeking 
you  : 
But  there 's  no  remedy  ;    I  shall  answer  it. 
What  will  you  do,  now  my  necessity 
Makes  me  to  ask  you  for  my  purse.'     It  grieves  me 
Much  more  for  what  1   cannot  do  for  you 
Than  what  befalls  myself.     You  stand  amazed  ;  320 

But  be  of  comfort. 

Sec.  Off.     Come,  sir,  away. 

Ant.     I  must  entreat  of  you  some  of  that  money. 

Vio.     What  money,  sir  '; 
Vox  the  fair  kindness  you  have  show'd  me  here. 
And,  part,  being  prompted  by  your  present  trouble, 
Out  of  my  lean  and  low  ability 
I  '11  lend  you  something  :    my  having  is  not  much  ; 
I  '11  make  division  of  my  present  Avith  you  : 
Hold,  there  's  half  my  coffer. 

Ant.  Will  you  deny  me  now  ? 

Is't  possible  that  my  deserts  to  you  331 

Can  lack  persuasion  ?     Uo  not  tempt  my  misery. 
Lest  that  it  make  me  so  unsound  a  man 
As  to  upbraid  you  with  those  kindnesses 
That  1  have  done  for  you. 

Vio.  I  know  of  none  ; 

Nor  know   I   you  by  voice  or  any  feature  : 
I  hate  ingratitude  more  in  a  man 
Than  lyin;^  vainness,  babbling  drunkenness, 


56  TWELFTH  NIGHT. 

Or  any  taint  of  vice  whose  strong  corruption 
Inhabits  our  frail  blood. 

Ant.  O  heavens  themselves  !  340 

Sec.  Off.     Come,  sir,  I  pray  you,  go. 

A7tt.     Let  me  speak  a  little.     This  youth  that  you  see 
here 
I   snatch'd  one  half  out  of  the  jaws  of  death, 
Relieved  him  with  such  sanctity  of  love, 
And  to  his  image,  which  methought  did  promise 
Most  venerable  worth,  did  I  devotion. 

First  Off.    What 's  that  to  us  ?   The  time  goes  by  :  away ! 

Ant.     But  O  how  vile  an  idol  proves  this  god! 
Thou  hast,  Sebastian,  done  good  feature  shame. 
In  nature  there's  no  blemish  but  the  mind  ;  350 

None  can  be  call'd  deform'd  but  the  unkind:' 
Virtue  is  beauty,  but  the  beauteous-evil 
Are  empty  trunks  o'erflourish'd  by  the  devil. 

First  Off.     The  man  grows  mad  :  away  with  him  !  Come, 
come,  sir. 

A7it.     Lead  me  on.  [Exit  with  Officers. 

Vio.     Methinks  his  words  do  from  such  passion  fly, 
That  he  believes  himself:   so  do  not  I.  1 
Prove  true,  imagination,  O,  prove  true, 
That  I,  dear  brother,  be  now  ta'en  for  you  !  359 

Sir  To.     Come    hither,   knight  ;    come   hither,    Fabian  : 
we  '11  whisper  o'er  a  couplet  or  two  of  most  sage  saws. 

Vio.     He  named  Sebastian  :    I  my  brother  know 
Yet  living  in  my  glass  ;   even  such  and  so 
In  favour  was  my  brother,  and  he  went 
Still  in  this  fashion,  colour,  ornament, 
For  him  I  imitate  :    O,  if  it  prove, 

Tempests  are  kind  and  salt  waves  fresh  in  love.  [Exit. 
Sir  To.  A  very  dishonest  paltry  boy,  and  more  a  coward 
than  a  hare  :  his  dishonesty  appears  in  leaving  his  friend 
here  in  necessity  and  denying  him  ;  and  for  his  cowardship, 
ask  Fabian.  37 1 


ACT  IV.    SCENE   I.  57 

Fab.     A  coward,  a  most  devout  coward,  religious  in  it. 
Sir  And.     'Slid,  I  '11  after  him  aj^ain  and  beat  him. 
Sir  To.    Do  ;  cuff  him  soundly,  but  never  draw  thy  sword. 
Sir  And.     An   I  do  not, —  [/i.r//. 

Faf>.     Come,  let 's  see  the  event. 
Sir  To.     I   dare  lay  any  money  'twill  be  nothing  yet. 

{Exeunt. 


ACT  IV. 

Scene  I.     Before  Olivi.\'s  house. 

Enter  Sebastian  and  Clown. 

Clo.  Will  you  make  me  believe  that  I  am  not  sent  for 
you  ? 

Seb.     Go  to,  go  to,  thou  art  a  foolish  fellow  : 
Let  me  be  clear  of  thee. 

Clo.  Well  held  out,  i'  faith !  No,  I  do  not  know  you  ; 
nor  I  am  not  sent  to  you  by  my  lady,  to  bid  you  come  speak 
with  her  ;  nor  your  name  is  not  Master  Cesario  ;  nor  this  is 
not  my  nose  neither.     Nothing  that  is  so  is  so. 

Seb.     I  prithee,  vent  thy  folly  somewhere  else : 
Thou  know'st  not  me.  »o 

Clo.  Vent  my  folly!  he  has  heard  that  word  of  some 
great  man  and  now  applies  it  to  a  fool.  \'cnt  my  folly!  I 
am  afraid  this  great  lubber,  the  world,  will  prove  a  cockney. 
I  prithee  now,  ungird  thy  strangeness  and  tell  me  what  I 
shall  vent  to  my  lady :  shall  I  vent  to  her  that  thou  an 
coming .? 

Seb.     I  prithee,  foolish  Greek,  depart  from  me  : 
There 's  money  for  thee  :    if  you  tarry  longer, 
I  shall  give  worse  payment.  19 

Clo.     By  my  troth,  thou  hast  an  open  hand.     These  wise 


58  TWELFTH    NIGHT. 

men   that  give  fools  money  get  themselves  a  good  report, 
ufter  fourteen  years'  purchase. 

Enter  Sir  Andrew,  Sir  Toby,  ajtd  Fabian. 

Sir  And.  Now,  sir,  have  I  met  you  again.-*  there's  for 
you. 

Seb.     Why,  there 's  for  thee,  and  there,  and  there. 
Are  all  the  people  mad  ? 

Sir  To.  Hold,  sir,  or  I  'II  throw  your  dagger  o'er  the 
house. 

Clo.  This  will  I  tell  my  lady  straight  :  I  would  not  be  in 
some  of  your  coats  for  two  pence.  {Exit. 

Sir  To.     Come  on,  sir  ;    hold.  3 1 

Sir  And.  Nay,  let  him  alone  :  I  '11  go  another  way  to 
work  with  him  ;  I  '11  have  an  action  of  battery  against  him, 
if  there  be  any  law  in  lUyria  :  though  I  struck  him  first,  yet 
it 's  no  matter  for  that. 

Seb.     Let  go  thy  hand. 

Sir  To.     Come,  sir,   I    will  not   let  you   go.     Come,  my 
young  soldier,  put   up    your  iron  :    you    are  well  fleshed  ;   ' 
come  on. 

Seb.  I  will  be  free  from  thee.  What  wouldst  thou  now  ? 
If  thou  darest  tempt  me  further,  draw  thy  sword.  41 

Sir  To.  What,  what  ?  Nay,  then  I  must  have  an  ounce 
or  two  of  this  malapert  blood  from  you. 

Enter  Olivia. 
Oli.     Hold,  Toby  ;   on  thy  life  I  charge  thee,  hold  I 
Sir  To.     Madam  ! 

Oli.     Will  it  be  ever  thus?     Ungracious  wretch, 
Fit  for  the  mountains  and  the  barbarous  caves. 
Where  manners  ne'er  were  preach'd !    out  of  my  sight  ! 
Be  not  offended,  dear  Cesario. 
Rudcsby,  be  gone ! 

\_Exciait  Sir  Toby,  Sir  Andrew,  and  Fabia?i. 
I  prithee,  gentle  friend,  50 


ACT   TV.    .^CE^E    17.  59 

Let  thy  fair  wisdom,  not  thy  passion,  sway 
In  this  uncivil  and  unjust  extent 
Against  thy  peace.     Go  with  me  to  my  house. 
And  hear  thou  there  how  many  fruitless  pranks 
This  ruffian  hath  botch'd  up,  that  thou  thereby 
Mayst  smile  at  this  :    thou  shalt  not  choose  but  go  : 
Do  not  deny.   ( Beshrew)  his  soul  for  me, 
He  started  one  poor  heart  of  mine  in  thee. 

Sef>.   (What  relish  is  in  this?  how  runs  the  stream? 
Or  I  am"  mad,  or  else  this  is  a  dream  :  60 

Let  fancy  still  my  sense  in  Lethe  steep  ; 
If  it  be  thus  to  dream,  still  let  me  sleep  I 

Oli.     Nay,  come,  I  prithee  :    would  thou  'Idst   be    ruled 
by  me ! 

Seb.     Madam,  I  will. 

Oli.  O,  say  so,  and  so  be!      [Exeunt. 


Scene  II.    Olivia's  /touse. 
Enter  Maria  and  Clown, 

Mar.  Nay,  I  prithee,  put  on  this  gown  and  this  beard  : 
make  him  believe  thou  art  Sir  Topas  the  curate  :  do  it 
quickly;  I'll  call  Sir  Toby  the  whilst.)  ,^  [E-xit. 

Clo.  Well,  I  '11  put  it  on,  and  I  witldissembld  myself  in't ; 
and  I  would  I  were  the  first  that  ever  dissembled  in  such 
a  gown.  I  am  not  tall  enough  to  become  the  function  well, 
nor  lean  enough  to  be  thought  a  good  student  ;  but  to  be 
said  an  honest  man  and  a  good  housekeeper  goes  as  fairly 
as  to  say  a  careful  man  and  a  great  scholar.  The^  com- 
petitors enter.  10 

Enter  Sir  Toby  and  Maria. 

Sir  To.     Jove  bless  thee,  master  Parson. 

Clo.  Bonos  dies,  Sir  Toby:  for,  as  the  old  hermit  of 
Prague,  that  never  saw  pen  and  ink,  \cry  wittily  said  to 
a  niece  of  King  Gorboduc,  '  That  that  is  is  ;*   so   I,  being 


6o  TWELFTH   NIGHT. 

master  Parson,  am  master  Parson  ;  for,  what  is  '  that '  but 
'that.'  and  'is'  but  'is'? 

Sir  To.     To  him,  Sir  Topas. 

Clo.     What,  ho,  I  say !   peace  in  this  prison ! 

Sir  To.    The  knave  counterfeits  well ;   a  good  knave. 

Mai.     {Withi7t\  Who  calls  there?  20 

Clo.  Sir  Topas  the  curate,  who  comes  to  visit  Malvolio 
the  lunatic. 

Mai.  Sir  Topas,  Sir  Topas,  good  Sir  Topas,  go  to  my 
lady. 

Clo.  Out,  hyperbolical  fiend  !  how  vexest  thou  this  man  ! 
talkest  thou  nothing  but  of  ladies  ? 

Sir  To.    Well  said,  master  Parson. 

Mai.  Sir  Topas,  never  was  man  thus  wronged  :  good 
Sir  Topas,  do  not  think  I  am  mad  :  they  have  laid  me  here 
in  hideous  darkness.  30 

Clfl.  Fie,  thou  dishonest  Satan  !  I  call  thee  by  the  most 
modest  terms  ;  for  I  am  one  of  those  gentle  ones  that  will 
use  the  devil  himself  with  courtesy  :  sayest  thou  that  house 
is  dark  ? 

Mai.    As  hell.  Sir  Topas. 

Clo.  Why,  it  hath  bay  windows  transparent  as  barri- 
cadoes,  and  the  clearstories  toward  the  south  north  are  as 
lustrous  as  ebony  ;  and  yet  complainest  thou  of  obstruction.'' 

Mai.  I  am  not  mad,  Sir  Topas  :  I  say  to  you,  this  house 
is  dark.  40 

Clo.  Madman,  thou  errest  :  I  say,  there  is  no  darkness 
but  ignorance  ;  in  which  thou  art  more  puzzled  than  the 
Egyptians  in  their  fog. 

Mai.  I  say,  this  house  is  as  dark  as  ignorance,  though 
ignorance  were  as  dark  as  hell  ;  and  I  say,  there  was  never 
man  thus  abused.^  I  am  no  more  mad  than  you  are  :  make 
the  trial  of  it  in  any  constant  question.^ 

Clo.  What  is  the  opinion  of  Pythagoras  concerning  wild 
fowl? 


ACT   IV.   SCESE   II.  6 1 

^flll.  That  the  soul  of  our  grandam  might  haply  inhabit 
a  bird.  51 

Clo.     What  thinkest  thou  of  his  opinion  ? 

Mai.  1  think  nobly  of  the  soul,  and  no  way  approve  his 
opinion. 

Clo.  Fare  thee  well.  Remain  thou  still  in  darkness  : 
thou  shall  hold  the  opinion  of  Pythagoras  ere  I  will  allow  of 
thy  wits,  and  fear  to  kill  a  woodcock,  lest  thou  dispossess 
the  soul  of  thy  grandam.     Fare  thee  well. 

Afal.     Sir  Topas,  Sir  Topas  ! 

Sir  To.     My  most  exquisite  Sir  Topas  !  60 

Clo.     Nay,  I  am  for  all  waters. 

Afar.  Thou  mightst  have  done  this  without  thy  beard 
and  gown  :  he  sees  thee  not. 

Sir  To.  To  him  in  thine  own  voice,  and  bring  me  word 
how  thou  findest  him  :  I  would  we  were  well  rid  of  this 
knavery.  If  he  may  be  conveniently  delivered,  I  would  he 
were,  for  I  am  now  so  far  in  offence  with  my  niece  that  I 
cannot  pursue  with  any  safety  this  sport  to  the  up-shot. 
Come  by  and  by  to  my  chamber. 

[Exeunt  Sir  Toby  and  Mana. 

Clo.  \Singing\  '  Hey,  Robin,  jolly  Robin,  70 

Tell  me  how  thy  lady  does.' 
Mai.     Fool ! 

Clo.     '  My  lady  is  unkind,  perdy.' 

Mai.     Fool  ! 

Clo.     '  Alas,  why  is  she  so  ?'   * 

Mai.     Fool,  I  say  ! 

Clo.    '  She  loves  another  '—Who  calls,  ha  ? 

Mai.  Good  fool,  as  ever  thou  wilt  deserve  well  at  my 
hand,  help  me  to  a  candle,  and  pen,  ink  and  paper  :  aj  I 
am  a  gentleman,  I  will  live  to  be  thankful  to  thee  for  t.      80 

Clo.     Master  Malvolio  ? 

Mai.     Ay,  good  fool. 

Clo.     Alas,  sir,  how  fell  you  besides  your  five  wits  ? 


62  TWELFTH  NIGHT. 

Mai.  Fool,  there  was  never  man  so  notoriously  abused  : 
I  am  as  well  in  my  vyits,  fool,  as  thou  art. 

Clo.  ,  But  as  well  ?/then  you  are  mad  indeed,  if  you  be  no 
better  in  your  wits  than  a  fool. 

Mai.  They  have  here  propertied  me  ;  keep  me  in  dark- 
ness, send  ministers  to  me,  asses,  and  do  all  they  can  lo  face 
me  out  of  my  wits.  >  90 

Clo.  Advise  you  what  you  say  ;  the  minister  is  here. 
Malvolio,  Malvolio,  thy  wits  the  heavens  restore  !  endeavour 
thyself  to  sleep,  and  leave  thy  vain  bibble  babble. 

Mai.     Sir  Topas  ! 

Clo.  Maintain  no  words  with  him,  good  fellow.  Who, 
I,  sir?  not  I,  sir.  (jod  be  wi'  you,  good  Sir  Topas.  Marry, 
amen.     1  will,  sir,  I  v/ill. 

Mai.     Fool,  fool,  fool,  1  say ! 
'    Clo.     Alas,  sir,  be  patient.     What  say  you,  sir .''     I   am 
shent  for  speaking  to  you.  100 

Mai.  Good  fool,  help  me  to  some  light  and  some  paper  : 
I  tell  thee,  I  am  as  well  in  my  wits  as  any  man  in  lllyria. 

Clo.     Well-a-day  that  you  were,  sir  ! 

Mai.  By  this  hand,  I  am.  Good  fool,  some  ink,  paper 
and  light  ;  and  convey  what  I  will  set  down  to  my  lady  :  it 
shall  advantage  thee  more  than  ever  the  bearing  of  letter 
did. 

Clo.  I  will  help  you  to  't.  But  tell  me  true,  are  you  not 
mad  indeed  ?  or  do  you  but  counterfeit .-' 

Mai.     Believe  me,  I  am^not  ;  I  tell  thee  true.  no 

Clo.  Nay,  I  '11  ne'er  believe  a  madman  till  I  see  his 
brains.     I  will  fetch  you  light  and  paper  and  ink. 

Mai.  P'ool,  I  '11  requite  it  in  the  highest  degree  :  I  pri- 
thee, be  gone. 

Clo.  \_Singing\   I  am  gone,  sir, 
And  anon,  sir, 
I  '11  be  with  you  again, 
(in  a  trice,/ 
Like  to  the  old  Vice, 
Your  need  to  sustain;  130 


ACT  IV.    SCF.XE    III.  <^3 

Who,  with  dagger  ul  laih, 
In  his  rage  and  his  wrath, 

Cries,  ah.  ha  !    to  the  devil  : 
Like  a  mad  lad, 
Pare  thy  nails,  dad  ; 

Adieu,  goodman  devil.  \Extt. 


Scene  111.    Olivia's  garden. 
Enter  Sebastian. 

Seb.     This  is  the  air  ;    that  is  the  glorious  sun  ; 
This  pearl  she  gave  me,  1   do  feci  t  and  see  't  ; 
And  though  'tis  wonder  that  enwraps  me  thus, 
Yet  'tis  not  madness.     Where 's  Antonio,  then  ? 
1  could  not  find  him  at  the  Pllephant  : 
Yet  there  he  was  ;    and  there  I  found  this  credit. 
That  he  did  range  the  town  to  seek  me  out. 
His  counsel  now  might  do  me  golden  service  ; 
For  though  my  soul  disputes  well  with  my  sense, 
That  this  may  be  some  error,  but  no  madness,  lo 

Yet  doth  this  accident  and  tlood  of  fortune 
So  far  exceed  all  instance,  all  discourse,^ 
That  I  am  ready  to  distrust  mine  eyes. 
And  wrangle  with  my  reason  that  persuades  me 
To  any  other  trust,'but  that  1  am  mad. 
Or  else  the  lady 's  mad  ;   yet,  if  'twere  so. 
She  could  not  sway  her  house,  command  her  followers, 
Take  and  give  back  affairs  and  their  dispatch 
With  such  a  smooth,  discreet  and  stable  bearing 
As  I  perceive  she  does:   there's  something  in't  20 

That  is  deceiveable.^    But  here  the  lady  comes. 

Enter  Olivia  and  Priest. 

OIL     Blame  not  this  haste  of  mine.    If  you  mean  wc'.l, 
Now  go  with  me  and  with  this  holy  man 
Into  the  chantr>   by  :    there,  before  him, 
And  underneath  that  consecrated  roof, 


64  TWELFTH  NIGHT. 

Plight  me  the  full  assurance  of  your  faith  ; 

That  my  most  jealous  and  too  doubtful  soul 

May  live  at  peace.     He  shall  conceal  it 

Whiles  you  are  willing  it  shall  come  to  note\ 

What  time  we  will  our  celebration  Mceep       ^  30 

According  to  my  birth.     What  do  you  say  ? 

Se^.     I  '11  follow  this  good  man,  and  go  with  you  ; 
And,  having  sworn  truth,  ever  will  be  true. 

(9//.     Then   lead    the   way,   good   father  ;    and   heavens 
so  shine, 
That  they  may  fairly  note  this  act  of  mine  !         [Exeunt. 


ACT  V. 

Scene  I.    Before  Olivia's  hoicse. 

Enter  Clown  and  Fabian, 

Fab.  Now,  as  thou  lovest  me,  let  me  see  his  letter. 

Clo.  Good  Master  Fabian,  grant  me  another  request. 

Fab.  Any  thing. 

Clo.  Do  not  desire  to  see  this  letter. 

Fab.    This  is,  to  give  a  dog,  and  in  recompense  desire 
my  dog  again. 

Enter  Duke,  Viola,  Curio,  (md  Lords. 

Duke.     Belong  you  to  the  Lady  Olivia,  friends  ? 
Clo.     Ay,  sir  ;  we  are  some  of  her  trappings. 
Duke.     I  know  thee  well :  how  dost  thou,  my  good  fellow.!* 
Clo.     Truly,  sir,  the  better  for  my  foes  and  the  worse  for 
my  friends.  11 

Dtike.     Just  the  contrary  ;  the  better  for  thy  friends. 
Clo.     No,  sir,  the  worse. 
Duke.     How  can  that  be  ? 


ACT  V.    SCEXE   I.  65 

C/o.  Marry,  sir,  they  praise  me  and  make  an  ass  of  mc  ; 
now  my  foes  tell  me  plainly  I  am  an  ass  :  so  that  by  my 
foes,  sir,  I  profit  in  the  knowledge  of  myself,  and  by  my 
friends  I  am  abused ;  so  that,  conclusions  to  be  as  kisses,  if 
your  four  negatives  make  your  two  affirmatives,  why  then, 
the  worse  for  my  friends  and  the  better  for  my  foes.  20 

Duke.     Why,  this  is  excellent. 

Clo.  By  my  troth,  sir,  no  ;  though  it  please  you  to  be 
one  of  my  friends. 

Duke.    Thou  shalt  not  be  the  worse  for  me  :  there 's  gold. 

Clo.  But  that  it  would  be  double-dealing,  sir,  I  would 
you  could  make  it  another. 

Duke.     O,  you  give  me  ill  counsel. 

Clo.  Put  your  grace  in  your  pocket,  sir,  for  this  once, 
and  let  your  nesh  and  blood  obey  it. 

Duke.  Well,  I  will  be  so  much  a  sinner,  to  be  a  double- 
dealer  :  there's  another.  31 

Clo.  Primo,  secundo,  tertio,  is  a  good  play  ;  and  the  old 
saying  is,  the  third  pays  for  all :  the  triple.x,  sir,  is  a  good 
tripping  measure  ;  or  the  bells  of  Saint  Bennet,  sir,  may  put 
you  in  mind  ;  one,  two,  three. 

Duke.  You  can  fool  no  more  money  out  of  me  at  this 
throw  ;•  if  you  will  let  your  lady  know  I  am  here  to  speak 
with  her,  and  bring  her  along  with  you,  it  may  awake  my 
bounty  further.  39 

Clo.  Marry,  sir,  lullaby  to  your  bounty  till  I  come  again. 
I  go,  sir  ;  but  I  would  not  have  you  to  think  that  my  desire 
of  having  is  the  sin  of  covetousness  :  but,  as  you  say,  sir,  let 
your  bounty  take  a  nap,  I  will  awake  it  anon.  \ExU. 

Vio.     Here  comes  the  man,  sir,  that  did  rescue  me. 

Enter  ANTONIO  and  Oflficers. 

Duke.     That  face  of  his  I  do  remember  well  ; 
Yet,  when  I  saw  it  last,  it  was  besmear'd 
As  black  as  Vulcan  in  the  smoke  of  war  : 
^A  bawbling  vessel  \\vas  he  captain  of, 


66  '  TWELFTH   XIGHT. 

For  shallow  draught  and  bulk  i.unprizable  ; 

With  which  such  (scathful; grapple  did  he  make  50 

With  the  most  noBle  bottom  of  our  fleet, 

That  very  envy  and  the  (tongue  of  loss^ 

Cried  fame  and  honour  on  him.     What 's  the  matter  ? 

F/rsf  Off.     Orsino,  this  is  that  Antonio 
That  took  the  Pho:nix  and  her  fraught  jfrom  Candy  ; 
And  this  is  he  that  did  the  Tiger  board, 
When  your  young  nephew  Titus  lost  his  leg  : 
Here  in  the  streets,  .desperate  of  shame  and  state,) 
In  private  brabble  did  we  apprehend  him. 

Via.     He  did  me  kindness,  sir,  drew  on  my  side  ;       60 
But  in  conclusion  ^ut  strange  speech  upon  me  ^ 
I  know  not  what  'twas  but  distraction. 

Duke.     Notable  pirate!    thou  salt-water  thief! 
What  foolish  boldness  brought  thee  to  their  mercies, 
Whom  thou,  in  terms  so  bloody  and  ;so  dear,"^j 
Hast  made  thine  enemies  ? 

Afit.  Orsino,  noble  sir, 

Be  pleased  that  I  shake  off  these  names  you  give  me  : 
Antonio  never  yet  was  thief  or  pirate, 
Though  I  confess,  on  base  and  ground  enough, 
Orsino's  enemy.     A  witchcraft ydrew  me  hither  :  70 

That  most  ingrateful  boy  there  by  your  side, 
From  the  rude  sea's  enraged  and  foamy  mouth 
Did  I  redeem  ;   a  wreck  past  hope  he  was  : 
His  life  I  gave  him  and  did  thereto  add 
My  love,  without  retention  or  restraint, 
All  his  in  dedication  ;   for  his  sake 
Did  I  expose  myself, (pure. for  his  love, 
Into  the  danger  of  this( adverse  town  ; 
Drew  to  defend  him  when  he  was  beset  : 
Where  being  apprehended,  his  false  cunning,  80 

Not  meaning  to  partake  with  me  in  danger, 
Taught  him  to  face  me  out  of  his  acquaintance,) 
And  grew  a  twenty  years  removed  thing 
While  one  would  wink  ;   denied  me  mine  own  purse. 


ACT   V.    SCENE   I.  67 

V'hich  I   had  recommended  to  his  use 
Not  half  an  hour  before. 

Vio.  How  can  this  be  ? 

Duke.     When  came  he  to  this  town  ? 

Ant.     To-day,  my  lord  ;    and  for  three  months  before, 
No  interim,  not  a  minute's  vacancy. 
Both  day  and  night  did  we  keep  coiiipany.  90 

Enter  Olivia  and  Attendants. 

Duke.     Here   comes    the   countess  :     now    heaven  walics 
on  earth. 
But(Jbr  theeT) fellow  ;   fellow,  thy  words  are  madness  : 
Three  months  this  youth  hath  tended  upon  me  ; 
But  more  of  that  anon.     Take  him  aside. 

(V/.     What  would  my  lord,  but  that  he  may  not  have, 
Wherein  Olivia  may  seem  serviceable  ? 
Cesario,  you  do  not  keep  promise  with  me. 

Vio.     Madam  ! 

Duke.     Gracious  Olivia, — 

Oli.     What  do  you  say,  Cesario .'     Good  my  lord, — 

Vio.     My  lord  would  speak  ;   my  duty  hushes  me.     loi 

Oli.     If  it  be  aught  to  the  old  tune,  my  lordj 
It  is  as  ^t  and  fulsomd)  to  mine  ear 
As  howling  after  music. 

Duke.  Still  so  cruel  ? 

Oli.     Still  so  constant,  lord. 

Duke.     What,  to  perverseness  ?    you  uncivil  lady, 
To  whose'yingratg  and  unauspicious  altars 
My  soul  the  faithfuil'st  offerings  hath  breathed  out 
That  e'er  devotion  tender'd  !    What  shall  I  do.''  109 

Oli.     Even  what  it  please  my  lord,  that  shall  become  him. 

Duke.     Why  should  I  not,  had  I  the  heart  to  do  it, 
Like  to  the  Egjptian  thief  at  point  of  death. 
Kill  what  I  love.^ — a  savage  jealousy 
That  sometimck/iavours  n(>bly.  1    But  hear  me  this: 


68  TWELFTH   NIGHT. 

Since  you  to  \non-regardance  cast  my  faith,  • 

And  that  I  partly  know  the  instrument 

That,  screws  me  from  my  true  place  in  your  favour, 

Live  you  the'  marble-breasted  tyrant  still  ; 

But  this  your  minion,  whom  I  know  you  love, 

And  whom,  by  heaven  I  swear,  I 'tender\  dearly,  120 

Him  will  I  tear  out  of  that  cruel  eye, 

Where  he  sits  crowned  in  his  master's  spite. 

Come,  boy,  with  me  ;    my  thoughts  are  ripe  in  mischief : 

I  '11  sacrifice  the  lamb  that  I  do  love, 

To  spite  a  raven's  heart  within  a  dove. 

Vio.     And  I,  most  jocund,  apt  and  willingly, 
I  To  do  you  rest,  a  thousand  deaths  would  die. 

OH.     Where  goes  Cesario  ? 

Vio.  After  him  I  love 

•More  than  I  love  these  eyes,  more  than  my  life, 
More,  by  all  mores,  than  e'er  I  shall  love  wife.  130 

If  I  do  feign,  you  witnesses  above 
Punish  my  life  for  tainting  Qf  my  love? 

OH.     Ay  me,  detested  !   how  am  I  Ujg guiled  !  j 

Vio.     Who  does  beguile  you  ?  who  does  do  yon  wrong  ? 

OH.     Hast  thou  forgot  thyself?   is  it  so  long? 
Call  forth  the  holy  father. 

Duke.  Come,  away  ! 

OH'.     Whither,  my  lord  ?    Cesario,  husband,  stay. 

Duke.     Husband ! 

OH.  Ay,  husband  :   can  he  that  deny  ? 

Duke.     Her  husband,  sirrah  ! 

Vio.  No,  my  lord,  not  I. 

OH.     Alas,  it  is  the  baseness  of  thy  fear  140 

That  makes  thee  strangle  thy  propriety  :t 
Fear  not,  Cesario  ;    take  thy  fortunes  up  ; 
Be  that  thou  know'st  thou  art,  and  then  thou  art 
As  great  as  that  thou  fear'st. 

Enter  Priest. 

O,  welcome,  father  ! 


ACT    V.    SCENE   I.  f)y 

Father,  I  charge  thee,  by  thy  reverence, 
Here  to  unfold,  though   lately  we  iniended 
To  keep  in  darkness  what  occasion  now 
Reveals  before  'tis  ripe,  what  thou  dost  know 
Hath  newly  pass'd  between  this  youth  and  me. 

Priest.     A  contract  of  etenial  bond  of  love,  150 

Contirm'd  by  mutual  joinder  of  your  hands, 
Attested  by  the  holy  close  of  lips, 
Strengthen'd  by  interchangement  of  your  rings  ; 
And  all  the  ceremony  of  this  compact 
Seal'd  in  my  function,  by  my  testimony  : 
Since  when,  my  watch  hath  told  me,  toward  my  grave 
I  have  travell'd  but  two  hours. 

Duke.     O  thou  dissembling  cub  !    what  wilt  thou  be 
When  time  hath  sow'd  a  grizzle  on  thy  case? 
Or  will  not  else  thy  craft  so  quickly  grow,  160 

That  thine  own  trip  shall  be  thine  overthrow  ? 
Farewell,  and  take  her  ;   but  direct  thy  feet 
Where  thou  and  I  henceforth  may  never  meet. 

Vio.     My  lord,  I  do  protest — 

Oli.  O,  do  not  swear ! 

Hold  little  faith,  though  thou  hast  too  much  fear. 

Enter  Sir  Andrew, 

Sir  And.  For  the  love  of  God,  a  surgeon  !  Send  one 
presently  to  Sir  Toby. 

Oli.     What 's  the  matter  .' 

Sir  And.  He  has  broke  my  head  across  and  has  given 
Sir  Toby  a  bloody  coxcomb  too  :  for  the  love  of  (iod,  your 
ht^lp !     1  had  rather  than  forty  pound' I  were  at  home.      171 

Oli.     Who  has  done  this.  Sir  Andrew .' 

Sir  And.  The  count's  gentleman,  one  Cesario  :  we  took 
him  for  a  coward,  but  he's  the  very  devil (incardinate.  j 

Duke.     My  gentleman,  Cesario  .'' 

Sir  And.  'Od  s  lifelings,  here  he  is  !  You  broke  my 
head  for  nothing  ;  and  that  that  I  did,  1  was  set  on  to  do't 
by  Sir  Toby. 


7©  TWELFTH   NIGHT. 

Vio.     Why  do  you  speak  to  me  ?     I  never  hurt  you  : 
You  drew  your  sword  upon  me  without  cause  ;  i8o 

But  I  bespake  you  fair,  and  hurt  you  not. 

Sir  And.  If  a  bloody  coxcomb  be  a  hurt,  you  have  hurt 
me  :  I  think  you;  set  nothing  by  ;a  bloody  coxcomb. 

Enter  Sir  Toby  aiid  Clown. 

Here  comes  Sir  Toby  jTialting  ;)you  shall  hear  mor^  :  but  if 
he  had  not  been  in  drink,  he  would  have  tickled  yoivother- 
gates  than  he  did. 

Duke.     How  now,  gentleman  !  how  is't  with  you? 

Sir  To.  That 's  all  one  :  has  hurt  me,  and  there 's  the 
end  on't.     Sot,  didst  see  Dick  surgeon,  sot  ? 

Clo.  O,  he's  drunk,  Sir  Toby,  an  hour  [agoneb  his  eyes 
were  set  at  eight  i'  the  morning.  191 

Sir  To.  Then  he  's  a  rogue,  and  a  passy  measures  pavin  : 
I  hate  a  drunken  rogue. 

Oli.  Away  with  him  !  Who  hath  made  this  havoc  with 
them  ? 

Sir  And.  I'll  help  you,  Sir  Toby,  because  we'll  be 
dressed  together. 

Sir  To.  Will  you  help  ?  an  ass-head  and  a  coxcomb  and 
a  knave,  a  thin-faced  knave,  a  gull ! 

Oli,  Get  him  to  bed,  and  let  his  hurt  be  look'd  to.  200 
\Exeunt  Clowfi,  Fabian,  Sir  Toby,  and  Sir  Atidrew. 

Enter  Sebastian. 

Seb.     I  am  sorry,  madam,  I  have  hurt  your  kinsman  ; 
But,  had  it  been  the  brother  of  my  blood, 
I  must  have  done  no  less  vvith  wit  and  safety. 
You  throw  a  strange  (^egard  |ipon  me,  and  by  that 
I  do  perceive  it  hath  offended  you  : 
Pardon  me,  sweet  one,  even  Jor  J;he  vows 
We  made  each  other  but  so  late  ago. 

Duke.  One  face,  one  voice,  one  habit,  and  two  persons, 
a'  natural  perspective,  that  is  and  is  not ! 


1"N 


ACT    V.    SCFXE   I.  71 

Seb.     Antonio,  O   my  dear  Antonio!  jio 

How  have  the  hours  rack'd  and  tortured  me, 
Since  I  have  lost  thee ! 

Ant.     Sebastian  are  you  ? 

Seb.  Fear'st  thou  that,  Antonio  ? 

Ant.     How  have  you  made  division  of  yourself? 
An  apple,  cleft  in  two,  is  not  more  twin 
Than  these  two  creatures.     Which  is  Sebastian  ? 

OIL     Most  wonderful ! 

Seb.     Do  I  stand  there  ?     I  never  had  a  brother  ; 
Nor  can  there  be  that  deity  in  my  nature, 
Of  here  and  every  where.  )  I  had  a  sister,  220 

"~,'hom  the  blind  waves  and  surges  have  devour'd. 
Of  charity,  what  kin  are  you  to  me  ? 
What  countryman  .'   what  name  ?    what  parentage  ? 

Vio.     Of  Messaline  :    Sebastian  was  my  father  ; 
Such  a  Sebastian  was  my  brother  too, 
So  went  he  suited  to  his  watery  tomb  : 
If  spirits  can  assume  both  form  and  suit 
You  come  to  fright  us. 

Seb.  A  spirit  I  am  indeed  ; 

But  am  in  that  dimension  grossly  clad 
Which  from  the  womb  I  did  .^jartici pate.  330 

Were  you  a  woman,  as  the  rest-^oes  even,) 
I  should  my  tears  let  fall  upon  your  cheek. 
And  say  'Thrice-welcome,  drowned  \'iola  ! ' 

Vio.     My  father  had  a  mole  upon  his  brow. 

Seb.     And  so  had  mine. 

Vio.     And  died  that  day  when  \'iola  from  her  birth 
Had  number'd  thirteen  years. 

Seb.     O,  that  record  is  lively  in  my  soul ! 
He  finished  indeed  his  mortal  act 
That  day  that  made  my  sister  thirteen  years.  340 

Vio.     If  nothing  lets^  to  make  us  happy  both 
But  this  my  mascuhne  usurp'd  attire. 
Do  not  embrace  me  till  each  circumstance 


72  TWELFTH  NIGHT. 

Of  place,  time,  fortune,  do  cohere  and  jump 
That  I  am  Viola  :    which  to  confirm, 
I  '11  bring  you  to  a  captain  in  this  town, 
Where  lie  my  maiden  ^weeds  ^  by  whose  gentle  help 
I  was  preserved  to  serve  this  noble  count, 
(All  the  occurrence  of  my  fortune  since 
Hath  been  between  this  lady  and  this  lord.  250 

Sefi.     [To  Olivia]  So  comes  it,  lady,  you  have  beerx^ mis- 
took : 
But  nature  to  her  bias  drew  in  that. 
You  would  have  been  contracted  to  a  maid ; 
Nor  are  you  therein,  by  my  life,  deceived. 
You  are  betroth'd  both  to  a  maid  and  man. 

Duke.     Be  not  amazed  ;   right  noble  is  his  blood. 
If  this  be  so,  as^yetjthe  glass  seems  true, 
I  shall  have  share  in  this  most  happy  wreck. 
\To  Vio/a]  Boy,  thou  hast  said  to  me  a  thousand  times 
Thou  never  shouldst  love  woman  like  to  me.  260 

Vio.     And  all  those  sayings  will  I  over-swear  ;\ 
And  all  those  swearings  keep  as  true  in  soul 
As  doth  that  orbed  continent  the  fire 
That  severs  day  from  night. 

Duke.  Give  me  thy  hand ; 

And  let  me  see  thee  in  thy  woman's  weeds. 

Vio.     The  captain  that  did  bring  me  first  on  shore 
Hath  my  maid's  garments  :    he  upon  some  action  '^ 
Is  now  in  durance,  at  Malvolio's  suit, 
A  gentleman,  and  follower  of  my  lady's. 

Oli.     He  shall  enlarge  him;    fetch  Malvolio  hither: 
And  yet,  alas,  now  I  remember  me,  271 

They  say,  poor  gentleman,  he's  much  ^istract.! 

Re-enter  Clown  with  a  letter,  and  Fabian. 

A  most  extracting  frenzy  of  mine  own 
From  my  remembrance  clearly  banish'd  his. 
How  does  he,  sirrah? 

Clo.     Truly,  madam,  he  holds  Belzebub  at  the  stave's  end 


ACT    V.   SCENE   I.  73 

as  well  as  a  man  in  his  case  may  do  :  has  hero  writ  a  letter 
to  you  ;  I  should  have  given  't  you  to-day  morning,  but  as  a 
madman's  epistles  are  no  gospels,  so  it  skills  not  much  when 
they  are  delivered.  380 

Olt.     Open  't,  and  read  it. 

Clo.  Look  then  to  be  well  edified  when  the  fool  delivers 
the  madman.     [Rtunh]  '  By  the  Lord,  madam,' — 

Oil.     How  now  !  art  thou  mad  ? 

do.  No,  madam,  I  do  but  read  madness  :  an  your  lady- 
ship will  have  it  as  it  ought  to  be,(^u  must  allow  Vox^ 

Oil.     Prithee,  read  i'  thy  right  wits. 

Clo.  So  I  do,  madonna  ;  but  to  read  his  right  wits  is  to 
read  thus  :  therefore(^erpend,.my  princess,  and  give  ear. 

Oli.     Read  it  you,  sirrah.  [To  Fabian. 

Fab.  \Reads\  '  By  the  Lord,  madam,  you  wrong  me,  and 
the  world  shall  know  it  :  though  you  have  put  me  into  dark- 
ness and  given  your  drunken  cousin  rule  over  me,  yet  have 
I  the  benefit  of  my  senses  as  well  as  your  ladyship.  I  have 
your  own  letter  that  induced  me  to  the  semblance  I  put  on  ; 
with  the  which  I  doubt  not  but  to  do  myself  much  right,  or 
you  much  shame.  Think  of  me  as  you  please.  I  leave  my 
duty  a  little  unthought  of  and  speak  out  of  my  injury. 

The  madly-used  Malvolio.' 
Oli.     Did  he  write  this?  300 

Clo.     Ay,  madam. 

Duke.     This  savours  not  much  of  distraction. 

Oli.     See  him  deliver'd,  Fabian  ;   bring  him  hither. 

\Exit  Fabian. 
My  lord,  so  please  you,  these  things  further  thought  on, 
To  think  me  as  well  a  sister  as  a  wife, 
One  day  shall  crownWie  alliance  on  't^  so  please  you, 
Here  at  my  house  and  at  (my  proper  cost.) 

Duke.     Madam,  I  am  most  apt  to  embrace  your  offer. 
\To   VioUi\  Your  master  quits  you  \  and  for  your  service 

done  him,  ■' 

So  much  against  the  mettle  of  your  sex,  310 


74  TWELFTH   NIGHT. 

So  far  beneath  your  soft  and  tender  breeding, 
And  since  you  call'd  me  master  for  so  long, 
Here  is  my  hand  :    you  shall  from  this  time  be 
Your  master's  mistress. 

OH.  A  sister  !    you  are  she. 

Re-enter  Fabian,  with  Malvolio. 

Duke.     Is  this  the  madman? 

OH.  Ay,  my  lord,  this  same. 

How  now,   Malvolio  ! 

Mai.  Madam,  you  have  done  me  wrong, 

Notorious  wrong. 

OH.  Have  I,  MalvoHo?   no. 

Mai.     Lady,  you  have.     Pray  you,  peruse  that  letter. 
You  must  not  now  deny  it  is  your  hand  : 
Write  from  it,  if  you  can,  in  hand  or  phrase  ;  320 

Or  say"' 'tis  not  your  seal,  not  your  invention  : 
You  can  say  none  of  this  :    well,  grant  it  then, 
And  tell  me,  in  the  modesty  of  honour. 
Why  you  have  given  me  such  clear  lights  of  favour, 
Bade  me  come  smiling  and  cross-garter'd  to  you. 
To  put  on  yellow  stockings  and  to  frown 
Upon  Sir  Toby  and  the  lighter^people  ; 
And,  acting  this  in  an  obedient  hope. 
Why  have  you  sufifer'd  me  to  be  imprison'd, 
Kept  in  a  dark  house,  visited  by  the  priest,  330 

And  made  the  most  notorious  .geek  )ind  gull 
That  e'er  invention  play'd  on  .''   tell  me  why. 

OH.     Alas,  Malvolio,  this  is  not  my  writing, 
Though,   I  confess,  much  like  the  character : 
But  out  of  question  'tis  Maria's  hand. 
And  now  I  do  bethink  me,  it  was  she 
First  told  me  thou  wast  mad  ;   then  earnest   in  smiling. 
And  in  such  forms  which  here  were' presupposed! 
Upon  thee  in  the  letter.     Prithee,  be  content  : 
This  practice  hath  most  shrewdly  (pass'd  upon  theet     340 
But  when  we  know  the  grounds  and  authors  of  it, 


ACT    V.    SCENE   I.  75 

Thou  shalt  be  both  the  plaintiff  and  the  judge 
Of  thine  own  cause. 

Fab.  Good  madam,  hear  me  speak, 

And  let  no  quarrel  nor  no  brawl  to  come 
Taint  the  condition  of  this  present  hour, 
Which  I  have  wonder'd  at.     In  hope  it  shall  not, 
Most  freely  I  confess,  myself  and  Toby 
Set  this  device  against  Malvolio  here. 
Upon;  some  Stubborn  and  uncourteous  parts 
We  Iiad  conceived  against  him  :    Maria  writ  350 

The  letter  at  Sir  Toby's  great  importance; 
I  n  recompense  whereof  lie  hath  married  her. 
How  with  a  sportful  malice  it  w.is  follow'd, 
.May  ratheitpluck  on  laughter  than  revenge  ; 
If  that  the  injuries  be  justly  weigh'd 
That  have  on  both  sides  pass'd. 

Oil.    Alas,  poor  fool,  how  have  they  baffled  thee ! 

Clo.  Why,  'some  are  born  great,  some  achieve  greatness, 
and  some  have  greatness  thrown  upon  them.'  I  was  one, 
sir,  in  this  interlude  ;  one  Sir  Topas,  sir  ;  but  that 's  all  one. 
'  By  the  Lord,  fool,  I  am  not  mad.'  But  do  you  remember  ? 
'  Madam,  why  laugh  you  at  such  a  barren  rascal  ?  an  you 
smile  not,  he 's  gagged  : '  and  thus  the  whirligig  of  time 
brings  in  his  revenges.  i''4 

Mai.     I  '11  be  revenged  on  the  whole  pack  of  you.     [Exit. 

Oli.     He  hath  been  most  notoriously  abused. 

Duke.     Pursue  him,  and  entreat  him  to  a  peace  : 
He  hath  not  told  us  of  the  captain   yet  : 
When  that  is  known  and  golden  time  ^onvents,] 
A  solemn  combination  shall  be  made  37o 

Of  our  dear  suuib.     Meantime,  sweet  sister, 
Wc  will  not  part  from  hence.     Cesario,  come  ; 
For  so  you  shall  be,  while  you  are  a  man  ; 
But  when  in  other  habits  you  arc  seen, 
Orsino's  mistress  and  his  \fancy'^  queen. 

\Exciint  all,  except  Clowtu 


76  TWELFTH   NIGHT. 

Clo.     \Sings\ 

When  that  I  was  and  a  little  tiny  boy, 
With  hey,  ho,  the  wind  and  the  rain, 

A  foolish  thing  was  but  a  toy, 
For  the  rain  it  raineth  every  day. 

But  when  I  came  to  man's  estate,  380 

With  hey,  ho,  &c. 
'Gainst  knaves  and  thieves  men  shut  their  gate, 

For  the  rain,  &c. 

But  when  I  came,  alas  I   to  wive, 

With  hey,  ho,  &c. 
By  swaggering  could  I  never  thrive. 

For  the  rain,  (S:c. 

But  when  I  came  unto  my  beds, 

With  hey,  ho,  &c. 
With  toss-pots  still  had  drunken  heads,  390 

For  the  rain,  &c. 

A  great  while  ago  the  world  begun, 

With  hey,  ho,  &c. 
But  that 's  all  one,  our  play  is  done. 

And  we  '11  strive  to  please  you  every  day.        {Exit, 


NOTES. 

ACT  I. 
Scette  I. 

The  play  first  appeared,  so  far  as  we  know,  in  the  folio  edition  of 
162.^,  in  which  the  Acts  and  Scenes  are  marked  throughout.  Rowe,  as 
usual,  was  the  first  to  give  the  list  of  Dramatis  Personje. 

Enter  .  .  .  The  stage  direction  of  the  folios  is  '  Enter  Orsino  Duke  of 
Illyria,  Curio,  and  other  Lords.'     Capell  added  '  Musick  attending.' 

1.  music   .  .  the  food  of  love.     Compare  Antony  and  Cleopatra,  ii. 

'  Give  me  some  music ;  music,  moody  food 
Of  us  that   trade  in  love.' 

2.  surfeiting.  The  folio  has  'surfeiting,'  as  in  2  Henry  I\',  iv.  1.55, 
which  is  the  spelling  of  the  substantive  in  the  1611  ed.  of  the  Authorised 
Version  of  Luke  xxi.  34.  But  the  modem  spelling  has  authority  even 
more  ancient,  and  is  also  used  in  Shakespeare.  See  The  Tempest,  iii. 
3.  fif:  :  'the  never  surfeited  sea.' 

4.  /a//,  a  cadence  in  music.  Holt  White  has  pointed  out  th:it  this 
passage  probably  suggested 

'  The  strains  decay. 
And  melt  away. 
In  a  dying,  dying  fall,' 
in  Pope's  Ode  on  St.  Cecilia's  Day,  19-21  ;  and 

'Still  at  every  dying  fall 
Takes  up  again  her  lamentable  strain,' 
in  Thomsons  description  of  the  nightingale,  Spring,    722.     The  word 
also  occurs  in  a  passage  where  its  meaning  might  easily  escape  notice, 
namely  in  Wisdom  x\\\.  iS.  '  a  pleasing  fall  of  water  running  violently " : 
where  '  a  pleasing  fall'  is  the  translation  of  f>v9n6i. 

5.  the  s'iveet  sound.  By  a  rhetorical  figure,  known  as  metonymy,  the 
effect  is  here  put  for  the  cause.  'Sound'  is  the  reading  of  the  folios, 
and  was  perhaps  in  Milton's  mind  when  he  wrote  the  pxssa;^e  ol  Paratlise 
Lost,  iv.  I5''>-I59,  quoted  by  Steevcns  : 


78  NOTES.  [act  I. 

'Now  gentle  gales 
Fanning  their  odoriferous  wings  dispense 
Native  perfumes,  and  whisper  whence  they  stole 
Those  balmy  spoils. 
Pope  altered  the  reading  to  'sweet  south'  and  the  change  has  been 
supposed  to  be  justified  by  a  quotation  from  Sidney's  Arcadia,  Book  i. 
(p.  2,  cd.  1598) :  '  Her  breath  is  more  sweete  then  a  gentle  South-west 
wind,   which  comes  creeping  ouer  flovvrie  fieldes  and  shadowed  waters 
in  the  cxtreame  heate  of  sommer.'     But,  whatever  may  have  been  the 
quality  of  the  south-west  in  Arcadia,  Shakespeare  always  describes  the 
southerly  winds  as  the  bearers  of  contagious  vapours  and  anything  but 
sweet.     Compare  The  Tempest,  i.  2.  323  : 

'A  south-west  blow  on  ye 
And  blister  ye  all  o'er ! ' 
See  other  quotations  in  the  note  to  this  passage. 

9.  quick,  lively,  vigorous  in  conception.  Sherris-sack,  says  Falstaff. 
renders  the  brain  'apprehensive,  quick,  forgetive'  \2  Henry  IV,  iv.  3.  107). 

1 1 .  then  refers  grammatically  to  the  sea,  to  which  love  is  compared. 
The  writer's  mind  passed  to  the  figure  from  the  thing  signified. 

12.  validity,  value,  estimation.     Compare  All's  Well,  v.  3.  192  : 

'  O,  behold  this  ring. 
Whose  high  respect  and  rich  validity 
Did  lack  a  parallel.' 
In  Bishop  King's  Lectures  on  Jonas  (p.  182)  it  occurs  in  the  sense  of 
'  strength ' :  '  Take  me  with  force  and  validity  of  armes.' 

lb. pitch,  height,  degree  of  worth ;  as  in  Hamlet,  iii.  i.  86  :  'Enter- 
prises of  great  pitch  and  moment,'  that  is,  lofty  and  weighty  under- 
takings. '  Pitch '  was  the  technical  term  for  the  highest  point  of  a 
falcon's  flight.     See  i  Henry  VI,  ii.  4.  11  : 

'  Between  two  hawks,  which  flies  the  higher  pitch.' 
It  is  also  used  of  the  greatest  height  of  the  sun  at  noon,  Sonnet  vii.  9  : 
'But  when  from  highmost  pitch,  with  weary  car, 
Like  feeble  age,  he  reeleth  from  the  day.' 

13.  abatemettt  and  low  price  are  severally  contrasted  with  'validity' 
and  '  pitch.' 

14.  shapes,  imaginary  conceptions,  figures  of  the  imagination.  Another 
of  the  excellent  operations  of  Sherris-sack  is  that  it  makes  the  brain 
'full  of  nimble,  fiery,  and  delectable  shapes'  (2  Henry  IV,  iv.  3.  108). 

Jb.  fancy,  love.     Compare  As  You  Like  It,  iii.  5.  29: 
'If  ever, — as  that  ever  may  be  near, — 
You  meet  in  some  fresh  cheek  the  power  of  fancy, 
Then  shall  you  know  the  wounds  invisible 
That  love's  keen  arrows  make.' 


sc.  I.]  TWELFTH   SIGHT.  79 

15.  alone,  to  the  exclu>ion  of  all  others,  beyond  comparison.  So 
Antony  and  Cleopatra,  iv.  (>.  30 : 

'  1  am  alone  the  villain  of  the  earth.' 
Jh.  high  fantastical,  jiossessed  of  imagination  in  the  hi^'hcst  degree. 

16.  go  hunt.  Compare  'Cio  see,'  iii.  },.  19,  and  note  on  'go  pray," 
Hamlet,  i.  6.  132. 

17.  the  noblest  that  I  haz'c.  The  pun  upon  '  hart '  and  '  heart  '  occuri 
more  than  once  again  in  Shakespeare.  Compare  iv.  1.  5S,  and  Julius 
Caesar,  iii.  i.  207,  20S  ; 

'O  world,  thou  wast  the  forest  to  this  hart; 
And  this,  indeed,  O  world,  the  heart  of  thee.' 
Also,  As  You  Like  It,  iii.  2.  260: 

'  Cel.  He  was  furnished  like  a  hunter. 
Kos.  O.  ominous !  he  comes  to  kill  my  heart.' 
20.  JMethought  .  .  .  pestiUme  !  Capcll  marks  this  as  a  parenthesis. 
32.  like  fell  and  cruel  haumis,  referring  to  the  story  of  Actxon,  who 
was  turned  into  a  stag,  and  torn  in  jiieces  by  his  own  dogs,  for  having 
audaciously  looked  upon  Diana  bathing.     See  Titus  Andronicus,  ii.  3. 
61-65.     Malone  has  pointed  out  that  the  same  figure  occurs  in  Daniel's, 
fifth  Sonnet  ( 1 594) : 

'  Which  tum'd  my  sport  into  a  harts  despaire, 
\\hich  still  is  chac'd,  while  I  have  any  breath. 
By  mine  owti  thoughts,  sette  on  me  by  my  faire; 
My  thoughts,  like  hounds,  pursue  me  to  my  death.' 
But  we  may  question  whether  he  is  right  in  saying  that  Shakespeare 
'undoubtedly'    had   this   sonnet    in  his  thoughts,  for  he  immediately 
proceeds  to  shew   that  the  same  idea  is  found  in  Whitney's  Emblems 
(1586),  and   in  the  dedication  of  Adlington's   translation   of  Apuleius 
( 1 566 ).     It  was  in  fact  a  commonplace  of  the  time.     Shakespeare,  as  we 
know  from  an  allusion  in  The  Merry  Wives  of  Windsor,  had  rea<l  the 
story  of  Acta-o.i  in  Golding's  (Jvid,  and  did  not  require  others  to  teach 
him  how  to  apply  it. 

lb.  fell,  fierce  ;  from  \{a\.Jello.     So  Juliu.s  Cesar,  iii.  i.  269: 

'  All  pity  choked  with  custom  of  fell  deeds.' 
24.  So  please,  so  may  it  please.     Compare  The  Tempest,  v.  i,  238: 

'  On  a  trice,  so  please  >ou. 
Even  in  a  dream,  were  we  divided  from  them.' 
26.   The  element,  the  sky.     Compare  iii.   1.  65,  and  2  Henry  IV,  iv. 
3.  58  :  'I  in  the  clear  sky  of  fame  o'ershine  you  as  much  as  the  full 
moon  doth  the  cinders  of  the  element.' 

lb.  till  seven  years^  heat,  till  the  heat  of  seven  years  have  passed.  Harness 
first  printed  the  words  thus,  and  Knight  also  adopts  the  apostr  '[ihe, 
although,  with  Malone,  he  regards  '  heat '  as  a  participle  and  equivalent 


8o  NOTES.  [act  I. 

to  'heated.'     Dr.  Schmidt  (Shakespeare  Lexicon)  doubtfully  suggests 
that  '  till  seven  years'  heat '  signifies  '  till  seven  years   have   run  their 
course.'     P"or  '  heat '  as  a  participle,  see  King  John,  iv.  i .  6 1  : 
'  The  iron  of  itself,  though  heat  red-hot.' 

27,  at  a>npk  viciv,  at  full  view.  Compare  'at  ample  point '=  in  full 
measure,  Troilus  and  Cressida,  iii.  3.  89. 

28.  a  cloistress,  a  nun,  a  votaress.  Chaucer  uses  '  cloystercre '  for  a 
monk,  or  one  who  lives  in  a  cloister  or  monastery.  Prologue  to  Cant. 
Tales,  261. 

30.  eye-offending  brine.     Compare  Othello,  iii.  4.  51  : 

'  I  have  a  salt  and  sorry  rheum  offends  me.' 
11/.   to  season.     Compare  All's  Well,  i.  i.  55  : 

'  Laf.  Your  commendations,  madam,  get  from  her  tears. 
Count.  'Tis  the  best  brine  a  maiden  can  season  her  praise  in.' 
33.  remembrance,  a  quadrisyllable,  as  in  King  John,  v.  2.  2  : 

'And  keep  it  safe  for  our  remembrance.' 
33,  34.  of  that  Jine  frame  To  pay,  of  so  fine  a  frame  as  to  pay,  &c. 
See  Abbott,  Shakespeare  Grammar,  §  277. 

35.  the  rich  golden  shaft.  Compare  A  Midsummer  Night's  Dream,  i. 
I.   170: 

'  I  swear  to  thee,  by  Cupid's  strongest  bow, 
By  his  best  arrow  with  the  golden  head.' 
According  to  Ovid,  Cupid's  arrow  which  caused  love  was  sharp  pointed 
and  of  gold,  that  which  dispelled  love  was  blunt  and  of  lead.     Golding 
(fob  %b,  ed.   1603)  thus  translates  the  passage  which  is  quoted  in  the 
notes  to  A  Midsummer  Night's  Dream  : 

'There  from  his  quiuer  full  of  shaftes  two  arrowes  did  he  take 
Of  sundry  workes :  tone  causeth  Loue,  the  tother  doth  it  slake. 
That  causelh  Loue,  is  all  of  gold,  with  ])oint  full  sharpe  and  bright, 
That  chaseth  Loue  is  blunt,  whose  Steele  with  leaden  head  is  dight.' 
Milton  (Par.  Lost,  iv.  763)  has  '  Here  Love  his  golden  shafts  employs'  ; 
apparently  forgetting,  as  Douce  shews,  '  that  Love  had  only  one  shaft 
of  gold; 

38.  These  sovereign  thrones,  or  seats  of  the  supreme  feelings.  See 
iL  4.  22. 

38,  y^.  fiWd  Her  sweet  perfections.  The  order  of  words  is  inverted, 
but  the  sense  is  clear.  Steevens  takes  '  Her  sweet  perfections '  as  repre- 
senting the  passions,  judgements,  and  sentiments  of  which  liver,  brain, 
and  heart  respectively  are  the  seat.  Knight,  reading  with  Capell  '  Pier 
sweet  perfection '  in  a  parenthesis,  interprets  it  thus  :  '  The  filling  of 
the  "sovereign  thrones,"  with  "one  self  king"  is  the  perfection  of 
Olivia's  merit ' :  a  woman  being  perfected  by  marriage.  Burton,  in 
his  Anatomy  of  Melancholy  (Part.   i.  Sec.  i.  Mem.  2.  Subs.  4),  calls 


sc.  i.J  TWELFTH  NIGHT.  Si 

the  heart  '  the  scat  and  fountain  of  life,  o:  heat,  ol  siur-.ts,  ol  puisc,  and 
respiration :  the  sun  of  our  bod\ ,  the  king  and  sole  commander  of  it  ; 
the  seat  and  organ  of  all  passions  and  afftctions.'  Of  the  brain,  he 
says,  'It  is  the  most  noble  organ  under  heaven,  the  dwelling  house  and 
seat  of  the  soul,  the  habitation  of  wisdom,  memory,  judgement,  reason, 
and  in  which  man  is  most  like  unto  (Jod.'  But  with  him  the  liver  ii> 
oidy  '  the  shop  of  blood.' 

39-  perfections,  a  quadrisyllable. 

Ih.  otic  self  kiiii;,  one  and  the  same  king.  The  second,  followed  by 
the  later  folios,  reads  ■  selfsame.'     Compare  Lear,  iv.  t,.  36  : 

'  It  is  the  stars. 
The  stars  above  us,  govern  our  conditions ; 
Else  one  self  mate  and  mate  could  not  beget 
Such  different  issues.' 
-And  Richard  II,  i.  2.  23  : 

'That  metal,  that  self  mould,  that  fashion'd  thee. 
Made  him  a  man.' 
Knight  understands  by  '  self  king,'  king  of  herself. 
41.  lie  rich,  as  on  a  costly  and  lu.xurious  couch. 

Sceue  II. 

3,  4.  The  play  on  lUyria  and  Elysium  is  obvious  enough. 
5.  Perchance,  perha]s ;  on  which  meaning  the  Captain  plays  when 
he  uses  the  word  in  the  literal  sense  '  by  chance.' 

10.  those  poor  number.  Kowe  changed  'those'  to  'that';  Capell 
reads 'this.'  .Shakespeare  may  have  regarded  'numl:)er'  as  essentially 
a  plural,  or  he  may  have  written  'poor  numbers'  and  the  fmal  's' 
disappeared  before  the  initial  's'  of  the  ne.xt  word. 

11.  driving,  drifting.     Compare  Pericles,  iii.  Chorus,  50: 

'So  up  and  down  the  poor  ship  drives.' 
14.  lived.  To  'live  '  is  still  used  by  sailors  in  this  sense.  Admiral 
Smyth  in  his  Sailor's  Wordbool:  gives,  'To  Live.  To  be  able  to  with- 
stand the  fury  of  the  elements ;  said  of  a  boat  or  ship,  &c.'  Compare 
Ralegh,  Discovery  of  Guiana  (Hakluyt  Society),  p.  106:  'So  as  we  ran 
before  night  close  vnder  the  land  with  our  small  boatcs.  and  brought 
the  Galley  as  neerc  as  we  could,  but  she  had  as  much  a  doe  to  line  as 
could  be.' 

i^.  Arion.  Pof)e's correction.  The  folios  have 'Orion.'  Shakespeare 
may  have  read  at  school  '  Orpheus  in  silvis,  inter  delphinas  Arion  ' 
(Virgil,  Eel.  viii.  56  ,  but  the  story  was  so  familiar  that  it  is  not 
necessary  to  suppose  even  this. 

-M.  lottiilry.     A  trisyllable.     See  Abbott,  §  477. 

G 


82  NOTES.  [act  I 

22.  Ari-i/  aftti  horn.  It  is  remarkable  that  no  one  has  proposed  to 
read  '  boin  and  bred,'  in  order  to  preserve  the  true  sequence  of  events. 

30.  laic,  lately.     .See  iii.  i.  36. 

40,  41.  coiiipauy  And  sight.  Planmer's  transposition.  The  folios 
have  '  sight  And  company,'  which  gives  an  anticlimax  and  defective 
metre. 

42.  delivered,  discovered,  shewn.     So  Coriolanus,  v.  3.  39: 

'  The  sorruw  that  delivers  us  thus  changed 
Makes  you  think  so.' 

43.  7111 1  had  made  mine  ozvn  occasion  )ncIlow,  till  I  had  brought  to 
maturity  the  proper  occasion  of  revealing  myself.  Compare  Love's 
Labour's  Lost,  iv.  2.  72  :  'These  are  begot  in  the  ventricle  of  memory, 
nourished  in  the  womb  of  pia  mater,  and  delivered  upon  the  mellowing 
of  occasion.' 

44.  What  my  estate  is,  as  to  what  my  estate  is.  The  construction  is 
very  much  like  that  in  Hamlet,  i.  i.  33 : 

'  And  let  us  once  again  assail  your  ears, 
That  are  so  fortified  against  our  story, 
What  we  two  nights  have  seen.' 
46.  No,  not,  not  even  ;  a  strong  form  of  negation     Compare  Galatians, 
ii.  5,  '  To  whom  we  gave  place  by  subjection,  no,  not  for  an  hour.' 
48.  though  that,  though.     See  Abbott,  §  2S7. 
48.  49.     The  same  sentiment  occurs  again  in  iii.  4.  352,  3. 
53.   Conceal  me  what  I  am.     For  the  construclion  see  i.  5.  235,  where 
the  objective  pronoun  is  redundant,  as  here.     Compare  Merry  Wives, 
iii.  5.  14'') :  '  I  will  proclaim  myself  what  I  am.'     Abbott,  §  414. 

59.  allow,  approve,  cause  to  be  acknowledged.  So  'allowance'  is 
used  in  the  sense  of  acknowledgement  or  approval  in  'JVoilus  and 
Cressida,  ii.  3.  146  : 

'  A  stirring  dwai  f  we  do  allowance  give 
Before  a  sleeping  giant.' 
The  two  senses  of  '  allow,'  to  assign,  and  to  approve,  are  due  to  the 
different  sources  from  which  it  is  derived  :  the  former  being  from  the 
Low  Latin  allocarc,  the  Litter  from  allaudare.     See  iv.  2.  56. 

60.  hap,  happen.  .« 

62.  mute.     Compare  Henr)'  V,  i.  2.  232  : 

'Or  else  our  grave, 
Like  Turkish  mute,  shall  have  a  tongueless  mouth.' 

Scene  III. 

I.  a  plague.  This  interjeclionnl  phrase  is  ])erhaps  an  abbrcviati',)n  of 
*  in  the  name  of  the  plague,'  where  'jilague'  of  course  is  a  euphemistic 


sc.  3-]  TWELFTH   SIGHT.  83 

expression.  Compare  i  Henry  IV,  i.  2.  51  :  '  What  a  plague  have  I 
to  do  with  a  buff  jerkin  •  '  i  Henry  IV,  ii.  2.  39  :  '  What  a  plague  mean 
ye  to  colt  mt  thus?'  And  iv.  -•.  56:  "What  a  devil  dost  thou  in 
Warwickshire?  '  In  Richard  II.  ii.  1.  J51,  the  four  earliest  quartos  read, 
'  But  what  a  Gods  name  doth  become  of  this  V ' 

4.  By  my  troth,  by  my  faith!  A.S.  trccrwC.     Compare  Richard  HI, 

ii.  4.  .'3: 

'  Now,  by  my  troth,  if  I  had  been  remembcr'd 
I  could  have  given  my  uncle's  grace  a  flout.' 

5.  cousin  was  loosely  used  of  persons  who  were  related,  but  not  in 
the  first  degree.  See  note  on  Richard  III,  ii.  1.  8.  Sir  Toby  just  before 
speaks  of  Olivia  as  his  niece,  and  Rowe  consequently  substituted  '  niece ' 
here. 

/h.  takes  great  exceptions  to,  greatly  objects  to,  finds  great  fault  with. 
Compare  Two  Gentlemen  of  Verona,  i.  3.  Si  : 

'  I  fear'd  to  show  my  father  Julia's  letter. 
Lest  he  should  take  exceptions  to  my  love.' 
7.  let  her  exce/'t,  be/ore  excepted.     A  reference  to  the  common  Law 
1-atm  phrase  exce/tis  exciJ>ieiiJis.     '  E.xcept  before  excepted '  fre<iuciitly 
occurs  in  old  leases.     Sir  Toby's  drunken  repartees  are  intentionally  not 
much  to  the  point. 

ij.  an  is  printer!  'and'  in  the  folios  throughout  this  play. 
1 4.  quaffing,  drinking  deep,  carousing.     Compare  The  Taming  of  the 
Shrew,  i.  i.  277  : 

'  /Vnd  quaff  carouses  to  our  mistress'  health.' 
.Vinl  iii.  i.  174: 

'  But,  after  many  ceremonies  done. 
He  calls  for  wine :  "  A  health  ! "  quoth  he,  as  if 
He  had  been  aboard,  carousing  to  his  mates 
After  a  slorni ;  quaff'd  off  the  muscadel 
.\nd  threw  the  sops  all  in  the  sexton's  face.* 
Palsgrave  .Lesclarcissenient  de  la  Langue  Francoyse'  has  'I  quaught, 
I    drinke  all  out      le  boys   JautatU.'     Etymologically  it   is   connected 
with  the  Scottish  quaigh  or  quaff,  a  drinking-cup. 

19.  cu  tall  a  man,  as  fine  a  man.  See  Richard  III,  i.  4.  1 56  :  '  Spoke 
like  a  tall  fellow  that  respects  his  reputation.'  And  Merry  Wives,  i.  4. 
26  :  'But  he  is  as  tall  a  man  of  his  hand>,  as  .iny  is  bttween  this  and 
his  head.' 

11.  a  year  in  all  these  ducats,  a  year's  enjoyment  of  them,  while  they 
last.     Similarly,  Macbeth,  iii.  1.  107: 

'  Who  wear  our  health  but  sickly  in  his  life ' ; 
that  IS,  while  he  lives. 

2^,  25.  the  viol-de-^ainlwys  was  a  base-viol,  or  violoncello.     Florio 

G  2 


84  NOTES.  [act  1 

(Italian  Diet.)  has:    'Viola  di  gamba.  a  Violl  de  Garnba,  because  men 
hold  it  betweene  or  vpou  their  legges.' 

32.  By  this  hand.  A  favourite  form  of  asseveration.  See  ii.  3.  116, 
and  The  Tempest,  iii.  2.  56  :  '  Trinculo,  if  you  trouble  him  any  m.ore 
in's  tale,  by  this  hand,  I  will  supplant  some  of  your  teeth.' 

//).  substractors.     Sir  Toby  would  say  '  detractors.' 

38.  a  coystrill,  a  knave.  Literally  a  menial  servant  or  groom  ;  perhaps 
from  the  French  coirstillicr,  who  was  armed  with  a  knife  or  poniard. 
Palsgrave  has  '  Coustrell  that  wayteth  on  a  speare  —covsteillier.'  The 
word  appears  to  have  become  degraded  in  meaning,  and  in  the  sixteenth 
century  denoted  the  lowest  kind  of  camp  followers,  as  will  be  seen  from 
the  passage:;  of  Holinshed  to  which  Toilet  refers.  For  instance,  in 
Harrison's  Description  of  England  ( Holinshed,  i.  162) :  'They  [esquires] 
were  at  the  hrst  costcrcls  or  bearers  of  the  armes  of  barons,  or  knights.' 
And  in  The  Historic  of  Scotland  (ii.  89) :  '  But  such  coisterels,  and 
other  as  rema  ned  with  the  Scotish  cariage,  seeing  the  discomfiture  of 
their  aduersanes,  ran  foorth  and  pursued  them  into  those  marishes.' 
Again  (p.  127)  :  '  Brudus  .  . .  appointed  all  the  horses  that  were  in  the 
campe,  seruing  for  burden,  to  be  bestowed  among  the  women,  lackies, 
and  coistrels.'  In  the  same  book  (p.  217)  we  find  enumerated  together 
'  cariage-men,  coistrels,  women,  and  lackies.'  That  '  coystrell '  was  a 
boy  or  groom  in  attendance  upon  the  horses  is  clear  from  Holinshed, 
iii.  248,  where  it  is  said :  '  A  knight  with  his  esquire,  and  coistrell  with 
his  two  horsses,  might  scarse  be  competentlie  found  for  two  shillings  in 
siluer.'  In  the  Latin  of  Matthew  Paris  this  is,  '  Ita  ut  quidam  jejunus 
vix  poterat  miles  cum  suo  armigero  et  garcionc  et  eqiiis  duobus  solidis 
argenteorum  competenter  sustentari ;'  where ,^a;rw  is  the  French  garcon. 
The  etymology  of  the  word  is  doubtful.  If  '  coustrell '  and  'coystrill ' 
are  identical,  it  would  appear  that  Palsgrave  derived  them  from  the 
French  constillicr,  but  there  is  another  Old  French  word  costeraux,  a 
kind  of  banditti,  with  which  they  may  be  connected.  Cotgrave  (Fr. 
Diet.)  has,  '  Costereauls.  A  nickname  giuen  vnto  certaine  footmen,  that 
serned  the  kings  of  P^ngland  in  their  French  warres  ;  or  as  Cotereaux ; 
or  Cottereaux.'  The  former  of  these  equivalents  he  defmes  as  'A  certaine 
cme  of  peasantlie  outlawes,  who,  in  old  time,  did  much  mischiefe  vnto 
the  Xobilitic,  and  Clergie.'  The  Old  English  quistron  (Scotch  ciistroun), 
which  Tyrwhitt  defines  as  a  scullion,  is  a  kindred  word.  In  the 
Romaunt  of  the  Rose,  p.  SS6, 

'  This  god  of  love  of  his  fashion 
Was  like  no  knave  ne  quistron,' 
corresponds  to  the  French  of  the  Roman  de  la  Rose, 
'  Le  dicx  d' Amors  de  la  fa^on, 
Ne  resembloit  mie  garcon ' : 


sc 


3.]  Tn'ELFTir  NIGHT.  85 


which  shews  that  garfon  and  quistron  are  rclateil  as  i^arcio  and  coistrell 
above,  and  that  quistron  =  coistrell  =  i oust rell -^ooxw  or  menial  sen-ant. 
CapcU  identihis  coystrill  with  kestrel,  a  hawk  of  a  base  kind,  French 
quercelU\  and  'kestrel  '  is  Hanmcr's  reading. 

39.  like  a  parish  top.  Stcevens  says, '  A  large  top  was  formerly  kept 
in  every  village,  to  be  whipped  in  frfisly  weather,  that  the  pea-ants  might 
be  kept  warm  by  exercise,  and  out  of  mischief,  \Nhile  they  could  not 
work.'     Nares  quotes  from  Ben  Jonson,  New  Inn,  ii.  2  : 

'A  merry  Greek,  and  cants  in   Latin  comedy, 
Spins  like  the  parish  top.' 
And  he  shews  from  Evelyni's  Sylva  [B.  i.  xx.  28]  that  these  tops  were 
made  of  willow  wood. 

40.  Castiliatw  vulsp  !  '  t  is  probable  that  these  words  have  as  much 
meaning  now  as  they  had  in  Shakespeare's  time,  and  that  is  none  at  all. 
They  would  make  a  great  noise  in  a  drinking  bout,  and  thus  serve  the 
only  purpose  for  which  they  were  used.  Compare  for  a  similar  Bacchana- 
lian shout,  Marlowe's  Jew  of  Malta,  iv.  p.  172  (ed.  Dyce,  1862): 

'  Hey,  Rivo  Castiliano  !  a  man's  a  man.' 
And  I  Henry  IV,  ii.  4,  124:  '  Kivo !  says  the  drunkard.'  Warburton 
says.  '  We  should  read  volto.  In  English,  put  on  your  Castiliaii  counten- 
ance ;  that  is,  your  grave  solemn  looks.'  Capill  adopts  liis  reading, 
bat  interprets  it  other.vise,  '  Bridle  up  your  chin  and  look  big."  Singer 
supports  it  by  a  quotation  from  Hall's  Satires,  iv.  2.  87  : 

'  Or  make  a  Spanish  f.ice  with  fawning  cheere.' 

46.  Accost,  approach,  go  alongside.  Cotgrave  (Fr.  Diet.)  gives, 
'  Accoster.  To  acconst,  or  ioine  side  to  side  ;  to  approach,  ordinw  neere 
\-nto  ;  also,  to  wax  acquainted,  or  grow  familiar,  with.'  There  is  of 
course  here  a  reference  to  the  ordinary  meaning  of  the  word,  as  in  '  hoard ' 
which  follows. 

54.  board  her,  attack  her ;  and  figuratively,  address  her,  woo  her. 
Compare  Merry  Wives,  ii.  i.  92  :  '  Unless  he  know  some  strain  in  me, 
that  I  know  not  myself,  he  would  never  have  hoarded  me  in  this  fury." 
And  Much  Ado,  ii.  i.  149 :  'I  am  sure  he  is  in  the  fleet :  1  would  he 
had  boarded  me.'    Again,  Love's  Labour's  Lost,  ii   i.  21S: 

'  I  was  as  willing  to  grapple  as  he  was  to  board.' 
And  Hamlet,  ii.  2.  170  :  '  I'll  board  him  presently.' 

58.  let  part,  let  go.     The  third  and  fourth  folios  read  '  let  her  part.' 

66.  thought  is  free,  a  proverbial  expression,  which  is  at  least  .is  old 
as  Gower.     See  Confessio  Amantis,  B.  v  lii.  277,  ed.  Pauli) : 

'  I  have  heard  said,  that  thought  is  free.' 
.\nd   Heywood  s  I'roverbs    .Sj>cnscr  Society  ed.),  p.  47.     Holt  White 
quotes  a  passage  from  Lyly's  I'.uphues  ('ed.  .\rber,  p.  28 1),  of  which  the 
present  may  be  a  reminiscence :  '  No,  quoth  she,  I  beleeue  you,  for  nont 


86  NOTES.  [act  I. 

can  indge  of  wit,  but  they  that  haue  it,  why  then  quoth  he,  doest  thou 
thinke  me  a  foole,  thought  is  free  my  Lord  quotli  she,  I  wil  not  take  you 
at  your  word.'     See  also  The  Tempest,  iii.  2.  1.^2. 

6~.  the  huttcry-bar,  or  buttery-hatch,  the  half-door  of  the  buttery, 
where  beer  is  served  out  from  the  cellar,  is  a  familiar  thing  in  colleges. 
The  '  buttery '  is  probably  so  called  from  the  '  butts '  of  ale  and  beer 
which  are  stored  in  (be  cellar  below. 

69.  It's  dry,  sir.     Johnson's  second  thoughts  were  best  when  he  said, 
'  According  to  the  rules  of  physiognomy,  she  may  intend  to  insinuate, 
that  it  is  not  a  lover's  hand,  a  moist  hand  being  vulgarly  accounted  a 
sign  of  an  amorous  constitution.'     Compare  Othello,  iii.  4.  36-3S  : 
'  0th.  Give  me  your  hand  :  this  hand  is  moist,  my  lady. 
Des.  It  yet  liath  felt  no  age  nor  known  no  sorrow. 
0th.  This  argiies  fruitfulness  and  liberal  heart.' 

72.  dry,  stupid,  insipid.  See  i.  5.  37,  and  Love's  Labour's  Lost,  v.  2. 
373  ■•  '  This  jest  is  dry  to  me.' 

75.  barren,  that  is,  barren  witted,  incapable  of  conceiving  a  jest.  See 
i.  5.  78,  and  note  on  As  You  Like  It,  ii.  7.  39. 

76.  canary,  a  strong  sweet  wine  made  in  the  Canary  Islands.  It  was 
a  kind  of  sack.     See  note  on  The  Tempest,  ii.  2.  no  (Clar.  Press  ed,"). 

81.  a  great  eater  of  beef.  Mr.  Rushton  (Shakespeare's  Euphuism,  p.  40) 
quotes  from  Lyly's  Euphues  (ed.  Arber,  p.  400):  'As  for  the  Quailes 
you  promise  me,  I  can  be  content  with  beefe,  and  for  the  questions  they 
must  be  easie,  els  shall  I  not  aunswere  them,  for  my  wit  will  shew  with 
what  grosse  diot  I  haue  bene  brought  vp.'  And  from  Troilus  and 
Cressida,  ii.  i.  14:  'Thou  mongrel  beef-witted  lord!'  Thersites  means 
that  Ajax's  wits  were  as  coarse  as  his  food,  not  that  he  had  no  more  wit 
than  an  ox.  liurton  (Anatomy  of  Melancholy,  Part  t,  Sec.  2,  Mem.  2, 
Subs.  I )  enumerates  beef  among  the  articles  of  diet  which  are  unfit  '  for 
such  as  lead  a  resty  life,  any  ways  inclined  to  melancholy,  or  dry  of 
complexion,'  like  Sir  Andrew  himself. 

87.  the  tojtgues.  The  point  of  Sir  Toby's  jest  will  be  lost  unless  we 
remember  that  '  tongues '  and  '  tongs '  were  pronounced  alike,  as  was 
pointed  out  by  Mr.  Crosby  of  Zainsville,  in  the  American  Bibliopolist, 
June,  1875. 

92.  curl  by  nature.  Theobald's  emendation.  The  folios  read  '  coole 
my  nature.' 

96.  /'//  home.  For  the  omission  of  the  verb  of  motion  compare  Julius 
Caesar,  i.  1.  74  :   'I'll  about';  and  Hamlet,  iii.  3.  4  : 

'  And  he  to  England  shall  along  with  you.' 
Again,  ii.  2.  521  :  'It  shall  to  the  barber's,  with  your  beard.' 

07,  98.  sJie''ll  none  of  nie,  she  will  have  nothing  to  do  with  me.  See 
i-  5-  371  ^nd  The  Mercliant  of  Venice,  iii.  2.  102,  103  : 


sc.  3.J  TWELFTH   XIGJIT.  87 

'Therefore,  thou  shandy  gold, 
Hard  foo<l  for  Midas,  1  will  none  of  thee; 
Nor  none  of  thee,  thou  j.)ale  and  common  drudge 
'Twcen  man   and  man.' 

98.  the  iouttt.  Rowe  here  and  elsewhere  substitutes  'the  Duke,' as 
>  )rsiiio  is  callcfl  h\  this  title  in  i.  a.  25.  and  m  the  stage  directions  of  the 
folios. 

loi.  l/'u-rc's  li/c  ini,  and  while  there  is  life  there  is  hope.  Compare 
King  Lear,  iv.  6.  ?o6 :  'Then  there's  life  in't'  Similarly,  Antony  and 
Cleopatra,  iii.  13.  192  :   '  There's  sap  in't  yet.' 

105.  kkksha7cscs.  The  plural  ol  kickshmi's,  which  occurs  in  1  Htnr)- 
IV  V.  I.  39,  and  is  a  corruption  of  the  Trench  qtulquc  chose.  See  Skinner, 
Ktymologicon  .Linguae  Anglicanae.  This  is  evident  from  the  earlier 
form  of  the  word  in  Cotgrave's  French  Dictionary,  '  Fricandeaux :  m. 
Short,  skinlesse,  and  daintie  puddings,  or  Quelkchoses,  made  of  good 
flesh  and  hearbes  choppe^l  together,  then  rolled  \-p  into  the  forme  of 
Linerings,  &c,  and  so  boyled.' 

loS.  an  old  man.  Waxburton  regards  this  'as  a  satire  on  that 
common  vanity  of  old  men,  in  preferring  their  own  times,  and  the 
past  generation,  to  the  present'  Steevens  thinks  that '  Aguecheek,  though 
willing  enough  to  arrogate  to  himself  such  experience  as  is  commonly 
the  accjuisition  of  age,  is  yet  cartful  to  exempt  its  person  from  being 
compared  with  its  bodily  weakness.'  It  is  hard  to  extract  sense  from  what 
after  all  may  have  been  intentional  nonsense.  'ITieobald  proposes  to  read 
'a  nobleman,'  referring  to  Sir  Andrew's  rival,  the  Count  Orsino.  In 
Winter's  Tale.  iii.  3.  1 1 1,  '  Would  I  had  Ijeen  by,  to  have  heljied  the  old 
man,'  Theobald  actually  reads  "  nobleman.' 

109.  a  galliard,  a  lively  (VT.gaillani)  dance.  See  Henry  V,  i.  3.  353. 
Compare  Barnahy  Kiche  his  Farewell  to  Militarie  profession  p.  4, 
Shakes[x-are  Society  ed.  :  '  Onr  gallianles  are  so  curious,  that  thei  are 
not  for  my  daunsyng,  for  thei  arc  so  full  of  trickes  and  toumes,  that 
he  whiche  hath  no  more  but  the  pl.iinc  sintjuepace,  is  no  l>etter  ac- 
compte«l  of  then  a  verie  bungler.'  Staunton  adopts  Mason's  conjecture, 
and  reads 

'What  is  thy  excellence?    in  a  galliard,  knight?' 

1 1 3.  the  back-trick  apparently  means  a  caper  backwards  in  dancing. 
It  is  not  likely  to  be  a  fencing  term,  for  the  talk  here  is  of  masques  and 
revels.  The  galliard,  according  to  Sir  John  Davies,  Orchestra,  68,  was 
danced  'With  lofty  turnes  ajid  caprioles  in  the  ajTe.' 

1 1?,  like,  likely.     See  i.  4.  2,  i.  5.  iS.^. 

116.  Mistress  Mali' s  picture  is  commonly  supposed  to  be  the  picture 
of  Mary  Frith,  commonly  known  a-  -Mall  Cutpurso,  a  notorious  personage 
of  the  time,  whose  career  w.is  made  the  subject  of  a  |  lay  by  Mid<lleton 


88  NOTES.  [act  I. 

and  Dekker,  under  the  title  of  The  Roaring  Girl,  or  Moll  Cutpnrse  (1611). 
BVit  if  Mary  Frith  was  born  in  i.:;84,  or  158.1,  as  is  stated,  she  must  have 
l)ecome  famous  very  early  in  life,  if  she  is  really  the  subject  of  this 
allusion.  It  was  some  ten  years  later  that  she  appears  to  have  flourished, 
lor  Twelfth  Night  must  have  been  written  before  February  1602,  and  the 
date  of  Middleton  and  Dekker's  play  is  161 1.  Steevens  quotes  an  entry 
in  the  Registers  of  the  Stationers'  Company  of  '  A  booke  called,  The 
Madde  pranckes  of  mery  Mall  of  the  Banckside,  with  her  walkes  in  man's 
ajiparell,  and  to  what  purpose,  written  by  John  Day '  (Arber's  Transcript 
of  the  Stationers'  Registers,  iii.  441).  The  date  of  this  entry  is  7  August, 
16  ;o,  and  at  this  period  the  virago  appears  to  have  flourished,  so  that  I 
am  inclined  to  think  the  Mistress  Mall  of  the  present  passage  was  some 
notoriety  other  than  Mary  Frith. 

1 1 7.  coranto,  a  dance,  also  of  French  origin,  perhaps  akin  to  a  galop. 
See  note  on  Henry  V,  iii.  5.  33,  where  the  word  is  spelt  '  carranto  '  in 
the  folios  as  here. 

1 20.  ilic  star  of  a  gaUiard,  a  planet  favourable  to  dancing.  There 
arc  many  references  in  Shakespeare  to  the  old  astrological  belief  in  the 
influence  of  the  planets  upon  the  destiny  and  constitution  of  men,  and 
the  adjectives  'jovial,'  'saturnine,'  and  'mercurial'  as  applied  to 
temperaments  are  traces  of  the  same  belief  which  our  language  still 
preserves.     With  the  present  passage  compare  Much  Ado,  ii.  1.  349: 

'  D.  Pedro.  Out  of  question  you  were  born  in  a  merry  hour. 
Beat.  No,  sure,  my  lord,  my  mother  cried  ;  but  then  there  was  a  star 
danced,  and  under  that  I  was  born.'     See  also  ii.  i.  3,  »•  5-  121;. 

121.  indifferent  well,  fairly  well,  tolerably  well.  See  i.  5.  232,  ami 
Hamlet,  iii.  i.  123  :  'I  am  myself  indifferent  honest.' 

122.  Jlatnc-coloured.  Pope's  emendation  of  the  folio  reading  '  dam'd 
coloui'd.'  Knight  conjectured  '  damask  coloured,'  and  Phelps  '  damson 
colour'd.'  It  is  by  no  means  certain  what  the  true  reading  should  be. 
In  the  dialogues  given  in  Eliot's  Fruits  for  the  French  (1593).  ?•  ?,^>  we 
fmd,  'Shew' me  a  Peach  colourd  Nttherstocke.'  A  bright  colour  of 
some  kind  was  intended,  and  therefore  the  reference  to  the  Yt.  conlcur 
d'enfer,  which  Cotgrave  defines  as  '  A  darke,  and  smoakie  browne,'  is 
out  of  place. 

lb.  stock,  stocking.     Compare  Taming  of  the  Shrew,  iii.  2. 67  :  'With 
a  linen  stock  on  one  leg,  and  a  kersey  boot  hose  on  the  other.'     And 
Beaumont  and  Fletcher.  The  Woman  Hater,  i.  2 : 
'With  all  the  swarming  ge.ierations 

Of  long  stocks,  r-hort  paned  hose,  and  huge  stuff 'd  doublets.' 
125.    Taurus!    That's  sides  and  heart.      Both  Sir  Andrew  and  Sir 
Toby  are  purposel}  made  to  blunder  here.     Chaucer,  in  his  Description 
of  the  Astrolabe  f  Early  Eng.  Text  Soc,  Extra  Series,  j..  i  ?),  says  of  the 


sc.  4-]  TWELFTH  NIGHT.  89 

signs  ol  the  zodiac  :  'and  euerich  of  ihise  12  signcs  halh  rcspectc  Ui  a 
certein  parcelle  of  the  l>ody  of  a  man  and  halh  it  in  •^oucrnance :  a> 
aries  hath  thin  heutd,  and  taurus  thy  nekte  and  thy  throte  j  gemyni 
thyn  armholes  and  thin  amies,  and  so  forth" 


Scetif  IV. 

4.  humour,  caprice,  fancy ;   or,  jjerhaps,  simply  disposition ;    as  in 
2  Henry  IV,  ii.  4.  256  :  'Sirrah,  what  humour's  the  prince  of?* 
10.   On  your  attenJar.ci,  in  attendance  upon  you. 
\i.  no  less   Init  all.     After   comparatives  with  a  negative  'but'-- 
than.     See  Measure  for  Measure,  iv.  2.  150:  'A  man  that  apprehends 
death  no  more  dreadfully  but  as  a  drunken  sleep.' 

12,  13.  I  have  utulasp\l  To  thee  the  hook.  Sec,  I  have  disclosed  the 
secret  records  of  my  soul.     Steevens  quotes  i  Henry  IV,  i.  3.  188: 

'  And  now  I  will  unclasp  a  secret  book.' 
And  lioswell  gives  an  illustration  of  the  same  figure  from  Troilus  and 
Cressida,  iv.  5.  60  : 

'  That  give  accosting  welcome  ere  it  comes. 
And  wide  unclasp  the  tables  of  their  thoughts 
To  every  ticklish  reader.' 
15.  Be  Hot  ilenieil  access,  as  \'alentine  was,  i.  i.  24. 

19.  spoke,  said,  reported.  So  in  Coriolanus,  ii.  i.  1:2:  'There's 
wondrous  things  spoke  of  him.'     And  .Macbeth,  iv.  3.  154  ; 

'And  'tis  spoken, 
To  the  succeeding  royalty  he  leaves 
The  healing  benediction.' 

20.  all  civil  bounds,  all  the  restraints  of  good  manners. 

26.  attend  it,  give  attention  to  it,  regard  it.  Compare  Lucrece, 
818: 

'  Feast-finding  minstrels,  tuning  my  defame, 
Will  tie  the  hearers  to  attend  each  line.' 

27.  Than  in  a  nuncio's  of  more  grave  aspect.  Theobald  reatls 
'nuntio,'  but  this  would  require  to  be  preceded  by  'in  thee"  instea<l  of 
'  in  thy  youth.'  The  folios  have  '  Nuntios.'  which  Delias  supposes  to 
be  for  'Nuntius,'  but  this  can  scarcely  be.  The  construction  is  not 
strictly  grammatical,  but  is  according  to  the  sense  of  the  passage,  as  if 
the  Duke  had  said  'She  will  attend  it  better  in  thy  youthful  person  tlian 
in  that  of  a  nuncio  of  more  grave  appearance.' 

lb.  aspect  has  the  accent  on  the  last  syllable,  as  everywhere  in 
Shakespeare.     Compare  Henry  V,  iii.  1 .  <; : 

•Then  lend  the  eye  a  terrible  asjiect." 
31.  nifiious,  red  as  a  ruby. 


90  NOTES.  [act  1. 

/I),  small  pipe,  shrill-soundiny  treble  voice.  Compare  Coriolaniis, 
iii.  2.  114: 

'  My  throat  of  war  be  turn'd, 
\\'hich  quired  with  my  drum,   into  a  pipe, 
Small  as  an  eunuch,  or  the  virgin  voice 
That  babies  lulls  asleep  ! ' 
And  Fletcher's  Loyal  Subject,  v.  2  ;   'That  pleasant  pipe  he  has  too.' 

32.  shrill  and  soipul.  If  this  be  the  true  reading,  'sound'  must 
signify  'not  cracked,'  as  Hamlet  (ii.  2.  448)  salutes  the  boy  who 
among  the  players  acted  the  woman's  part,  with  '  Pray  God,  your 
voice,  like  a  piece  of  uncurrent  gold,  he  not  cracked  within  the  ring.' 
Mr.  Grant  White  reads  '  shrill  in  sound.' 

33.  scmhlativc,  resembling,  like.     A  word  of  Shakespeare  s  coinage. 
Ih.  a  zuoinans  part,  which  at  this  time  was  always  acted  by  boys. 

See  Two  Gentlemen  of  Verona,  iv.  4.  165,  where  Julia,  who  is  dressed 

in  boys'  clothes,  says, 

'At  Pentecost, 
When  nil  our  pageants  of  delight  were  play'd, 
Our  youth  got  me  to  play  the  woman's  part.' 

34.  fJiy  constellation,  the  constellation  under  which  thou  wast  born. 
See  note  on  i.  3.  120. 

40.  a  barful  strife,  a  strife  full  of  impediments. 

Scene  V. 

2.  in  way  of,  by  way  of.     So  Hamlet,  i.  3.  95: 
'  If  it  be  so,  as  so  'tis  put  on  me, 
And  that  in  way  of  caution.' 

5.  to  fear  no  colours,  to  fear  nothing,  care  for  nobody.  There  is  of 
course  a  pun  upon  'colours'  and  'collars,'  as  we  find  elsewhere  upon 
'dolours'  and  'dollars.'  The  ]ihrase  is  of  frequent  occurrence  in  the 
Elizabethan  dramatists.  Compare  Picaumont  and  Fletcher,  Women 
Pleased,  iv.  i  ; 

'  He  'U  prance  it  bravely,  friend :  he  fears  no  colours.' 
And  The  True  Tragcdie  of  Richard  the  Third  (ed.  Hazlitt,  p.  65) : 
'  Be  as  be  may,  I  will  ncuer  feare  colours  nor  regard  ruth.'  Again, 
in  Breton's  The  Good  and  the  Badde  (ed.  Grosart,  p.  la"),  of  An  Unquiet 
Woman  it  is  said,  '  She  fcares  no  colours,  she  cares  for  no  counsaile, 
she  spares  no  persons,  nor  respects  any  time.'  It  probably  signified 
originally  to  fear  no  enemy.  Cotgravc  1  French  Diet.)  has,  '  Aduen- 
tureux.      Hazardous,  aduenturous;   that  feares  no  colours.' 

8.  lenten  (spelt  lenton  in  the  folios),  spare,  scanty,  like  a  dinner  in 
T^nt.  Compare  Hamlet,  ii.  2.  329  :  '  To  think,  my  lord,  if  you  delight 
not  in  man,  what  lenten  entertainment  the  players  shall  receive  from  you.' 


so.  5-]  TWELFTH  NIGHT.  9I 

9.  of  is  used  to  connect  words  or  iiliiases  in  apposition,  the  s.iyin}^ 
here  being  'I  fear  no  colours.'  So  in  Coriolanus,  ii.  i.  ^j,  *a  very 
little  thief  of  occasion,"  where  the  occasion  is  the  thief. 

15.  16.  you  -uill .  .  .  absiiit  ,  or,  to  be  turned  aioay,  is,  &c.  This 
punctuation,  which  is  subst.intially  that  of  Malone,  is  now  generally 
adopted,  but  I  am  not  sure  that  it  is  right.  The  first  folio  has  '  you 
will  .  .  .  absent,  or  to  be  turn'd  away  :  is*  t'vc.  This  was  altered  in  the 
second  and  subsequent  folios  to  '  or  be  turn'd  away.'  The  insertion  of 
'to'  before  the  second  of  two  infinitives  connected  \\ith  the  same 
auxiliary  verb  is  very  common,  and  the  construction  here  appears  to  be 
the  same  as  that  in  As  ^'ou  Like  It,  v.  4.  ji,  22  : 

'  Keep  your  word,  Phebe,  that  you'//  marry  me. 
Or  else  refusing  me,  to  wed  this  shepherd.' 
It  might  be  maintained  that  in  this  instance  '  to  wed '  is  in  apposi- 
tion to  'word';  but  this  cannot  be  the  explanation  in  Pericles,  ii.  5. 
17: 

'  She  tells  me  here,  she'//  ivcd  the  stranger  knight, 
Or  never  more  to  vic-c>  nor  day  nor  night.' 
The  following  instances  are  from  the  Prayer-book  Version  of  the 
Psalms.  '  Let  their  habitation  be  void  :  and  no  man  to  dwell  in  their 
tents,'  Ixix.  26.  '  That  we  should  not  hide  them  .  .  .  but  to  shew  .  .  .' 
Ixxviii.  4.  'That  they  might  put  their  trust  in  God  :  and  not  to  forget 
the  works  of  God,  but  to  keep  his  commandments ;  and  not  to  be  as 
their  forefathers,  &c.'  Ixxviii.  S,  9. 

19.  for  turning  away.  The  point  of  this  has  been  supposed  to  lie  in 
the  similarity  of  the  pronunciation  of  '  turning  away'  and  'turning  of 
whey'  or  '  turning  o'hay."  But  the  warmth  of  summer  and  its  jilcasures 
would  make  the  clown's  life  tolerable  though  he  might  he  out  of 
ser\'ice.  In  illustration  of  this  view,  which  is  that  of  .Stecvens, 
Mr.  Addis  (Notes  and  Queries.  3rd  .S.  xi.  252)  quotes  from  the  interlude 
of  Jack  Jugler  i  Four  Old  Plays,  ed.  Child,  p.  44) : 

'  I  neuer  vse  to  rune  awaye  in  wynter  nor  in  vcre 

But  all  wayes  in  suchc  tyme  and  season  of  the  yere 

When  honye  lyeth  in  the  hiues  of  Bees 

And  all  maner  fnite  falleth  from  the  trees 

As  apples,   Nuttes,  Peres,  and  plummes  also 

Wherby  a  boye  maye  liue  a  brod  a  moneth  or  two.' 
But  perhaps  the  Clown,  having   been  frequently  threatene<l  with  dis 
missal,  simply  means,  Wait  till  summer  comes,  and  see  if  it  is  true. 

21.  points.  To  Uiiderstand  Maria's  answer  it  must  be  reniLml)ere<i 
that  the  metal  tags  to  laces  were  called  '  points,'  and  were  used  in 
fastening  the  hose  or  breeches  to  the  doublet.  Com|>arc  Antony  and 
Cleopatra,  iii.  1.^,  157: 


92  NOTES.  [act  I. 

'  To  flatter  Cresar,  would  you  mingle  eyes 
With  one  that  ties  his  points?' 
There  is  the  same  quibble  as  in  the  present  passage  in   i  Henry  IV, 

ii-  4-  23^: 

'  J^ai.  Their  points  being  broken — 

Poins.  Down  fell  their  hose.' 

23.  gaskins,  or  'galligaskins,'  were  loose  breeches.  Cotgrave  (French 
Diet.)  gives  '  Guergesses  :  f.  Wide  Slops,  or  Gallogaskins,  great  Gascon, 
or  Spanish  hose.'  Compare  Percyvall  (Spanish  Diet.),  '  ^araguelles, 
gascoigne  hose,  Fcmoralia' 

28.  you  7uere  best,  that  is,  it  were  best  for  you.  Originally  the 
pj-onoun  in  this  phrase  was  in  the  dative  case,  but  by  the  time  of 
Shakespeare  it  had  come  to  be  regarded  as  the  nominative.  Compare 
ii.  2.  24,  and  see  Julius  Ccesar,  iii.  3.  13  :  '  Ay,  and  truly,  you  were  best'; 
and  the  note  on  that  passage.  Similarly,  the  phrase  '  if  you  please '  was 
originally  '  if  it  please  you,'  the  pronoun  being  in  the  dative. 

37.  Go  to,  an  expression  of  impatience. 

lb.  city,  witless,  stupid.     See  i.  3.  72,  and  note  on  As  You  Like  It, 

ii-'7-  39: 

'  His  brain. 

Which  is  as  dry  as  the  remainder  biscuit 

After  a  voyage.' 

And  Troilus  and  Cressida,  i.  3.  329  : 

'  Were  his  brain  as  barren 

As  banks  of  Libya, — though,  Apollo  knows, 

'Tis  dry  enough.' 

lb.  ril  no  more  of  yo-ii.     See  i.  3.  97,  98. 

38.  dishonest.  As  '  honest '  is  used  in  the  sense  of  '  virtuous '  (see 
Hamlet,  iii.  i.  103:  'Are  you  honest?'  and  123,  'I  am  myself  in- 
different honest'),  so  'dishonest'  is  the  op|)ositc.  Olivia  is  referring 
to  the  Clown's  absence  from  home.     Compare  Henry  V,  i,  2.  49 : 

'  Who,  holding  in  disdain  the  German  women 
For  some  dishonest  manners  of  their  life, 
Establish'd  then  this  law.' 

39.  madonna,  my  lady.  Only  used  by  Shakespeare  in  this  play,  and 
here  only  in  the  mouth  of  the  Clown.  Florio  (Italian  Diet.)  gives, 
'  Madonna,  Mistris  mine,  Madame.' 

43.  patilted,  alluding,  says  Malone,  to  the  patched  or  particoloured 
garment  of  the  fool.  It  may  be  so,  but  the  clown  is  talking  against 
time  and  sense  in  order  to  escape  the  reprimand  he  deserves. 

46.  so,  so  be  it,  well  and  good.  Compare  The  Merchant  of  Venice, 
i.  :,.  170: 

'If  he  will  take  it,  so;    if  not,  atiieu.' 


sc.  5.]  TWELFTH   NIGHT.  93 

And  I  Henry  I\',  ii.  4.  ^45  :  '  ll  you  will  deny  the  sheriff,  so  ;  if  not, 
let  him  enter.' 

47.  ciukolJ.  The  clown  purposely  blunders  here.  Hanmcr  supposes 
11  was  a  printer's  mistake,  and  substitutes  '  counsellor.'  Capell  thinks  it 
may  have  been  an  intentional  corruption  of  'school.' 

lb.  beauty s  a  Jlowcr.  So  (jrecne.  Metamorphosis  Works,  ed. 
Grosart,  i.\.  61) :  'Btautie  is  but  a  blossome.' 

50.  Misprision,  mistake,  error  ;  with  a  reference  to  the  legal  meaning 
of  the  word,  as  the  phrase  which  follows. '  in  the  highest  degree,'  shews. 
Compare  Much  Ado,  iv.  i.  187: 

'  There  is  some  strange  misprision  in  the  princes.' 
Ai;d  A  Midsummer  Night's  Dream,  iii.  j.  yo.     In  the  technical  sense, 
'  misprision '  denotes  any  offence  under  the  degree  of  capital.     Mis- 
prision of  treason  or  felony  consists  in  the  knowledge  and  concealment 
of  it. 

lb.  cucullus  lion  facit  monac/tum.  Cotgrave  gives  the  trench 
proverb,  '  L'habit  ne  fait  pas  le  nioine :  Pro.  The  Cowle  makes  not  the 
Monke ;  euerie  one  is  not  a  souldier  that  weares  armor ;  nor  euerie  one 
a  scholler  thats  clad  in  blacke.'  In  the  same  form  it  appears  in  all  the 
languages  of  Europe.     .See  Measure  for  Measure,  v.  i.  263. 

51.  as  much  to  say  as.  This  has  been  needlessly  altered  to  'as  much 
.IS  to  say.'  Compare  Florio'*  Italian  Dictionary  ;  '  Madomale,  as  much 
to  say  as  lawfully  borne,  and  of  a  true  and  lawfull  Mother.'  And 
■i  Henry  VI,  iv.  2.  18  :  'True  ;  and  yet  it  is  said,  labour  in  thy  voca- 
tion ;  which  is  as  much  to  say  as,  let  the  magistrates  be  labouring  men.' 
Again,  in  Holland's  Plutarch,  p.  723  :  '  For  where  wee  faile  to  give 
reason  of  a  cause,  there  begin  we  to  doubt  &  make  cjuestion,  &  that 
is  as  much  to  say,  as  to  play  the  philosophers.' 

52.  motley,  the  parti-coloured  dress  of  the  fool.  See  note  on  As  You 
Like  It,  ii.  7.  13. 

■;5.  dexteriously.  This  may  possibly  be  an  intentional  corruption, 
but  it  actually  occurs  in  Bacon's  Adv.mccment  of  Learning,  ii.  22,  §  15 
(p.  214,  ed.  Wright  :  'lie  [the  sophist]  cannot  form  a  man  so  dex- 
tc.'iously,  nor  with  that  facility  to  prize  and  govern  himself,  as  love 
can  do.'  Here  the  editions  of  r6o5,  ^'^29,  and  1633  all  read  'dex- 
teriously,' although  in  another  passage  the  word  is  spelt  as  usual. 
Again,  in  Xauntons  Kragmenta  Regalia  cd.  Arbcr},  p.  28 :  '  Wc 
take  him  [I-eicester]  as  he  was  admitted  into  the  Court,  and  ihc 
Queens  favour,  where  he  was  not  to  seek  to  play  his  part  well,  and 
dexteriously.' 

58.  my  mouse  of  virtue.  '  Mouse '  was  used  as  a  term  of  endear- 
ment, and  in  applying  it  to  Olivia  the  clown  was  stretching  to  the 
utmost  his  privilege  as  an  allowed  fool.     He  does  this  purposely  to 


94  NOTES.  [act  1. 

prevent  her  from  referring   to   his   past    misdeeds.     Compare  Love's 
Labour  's  Lost,  v.  2.  ly  : 

'  What's  your  dark  meaning,  mouse,  of  this  light  word  ? ' 

66.  soul.  The  first  folio  puts  a  comma  at  '  soul,'  which  changes  the 
construction  without  materially  altering  the  sense. 

70.  decays,  injures,  impairs.     See  Sonnet,  Ixv.  8  : 

'  When  rocks  impregnable  are  not  so  stout, 
Nor  gates  of  steel  so  strong,  Lut  Time  decays.' 

72.  /or  the  better  increasing  your  folly.  For  examples  of  '  the '  with 
a  verbal  which  is  followed  by  an  object,  see  Abbott,  §  93. 

76.  IIo7i'  say  you,  what  say  you.  Compare  The  Taming  of  the  Shrew, 
iv.  3.  20  :  '  How  say  you  to  a  fat  tripe  finely  broiled?'  Hamlet,  ii.  2. 
188  :  '  How  say  you  by  that  ?' 

78.  barren.  See  i.  3.  75,  and  Julius  Casar,  iv.  i.  36:  'A  barren- 
spirited  fellow.' 

82.  crow,  laugh  merrily.     Compare  As  You  Like  It,  ii.  7.  30: 

'  My  lungs  began  to  crow  like  chanticleer.' 
lb.  these  set  kind  of  fools.  The  pronoun  appears  to  be  attracted  into 
the  plural  by  the  plural  substantive  which  follows  (sec  Abbott, 
§  412),  or  else  'kind  '  is  used  as  a  plural.  Compare  Lear,  ii.  2.  107  : 
'These  kind  of  knaves  I  know.'  And  The  Taming  of  the  Shrew,  i.  i. 
247: 

'I  advise 
You  use  your  manners  discreetly  in  all  kind  of  companies.' 
Timon  of  Athens,  i.  i .  65  :   '  All  kind  of  natures.'     As  You  Like  It,  ii. 

3-  10: 

'Know  you  not,  master,  to  some  kind  of  men 

Their  graces  serve  them  but  as  enemies?' 

83.  the  fools'  zanies.  '  Zany  '  is  derived  from  the  Italian  Zane,  which 
Florio  (A  Worlde  of  Wordes,  1.598)  defines  thus:  'Zane,  the  name  of 
John.  Also  a  sillie  lohn,  a  gull,  a  noddie.  Vsed  also  for  a  simple 
vice,  clowne,  foole,  or  simple  fellovve  in  a  plaie  or  comedie.'  The 
following  passages  from  Ben  Jonsoii  will  illustrate  the  meaning  of  the 
word.     Every  Man  out  of  his  Humour,  iv.  i  : 

'  He's  like  the  zany  to  a  tumbler, 
That  tries  tricks  after  him,  to  make  men  laugh.' 
Cynthia's  Revels,  ii.  i  :  '  The  other  gallant  is  his  zany,  and  doth  most  of 
these  tricks  after  him.'     The  Fo.x,  iii.  i  : 

•  Such  sparks 

Arethe  true  parasites,  others  but  their  zanies.' 

See  also  Heywood,  The  foure  Prentises  of  London  (Works,  ii.  203).     A 

fool's  zany  therefore  is  a  buffoon  who  imitates  the  real  fool  in  a  grotesque 

manner.     Sec  note  on  '  Bergoaiask  '  in  A  Midsummer  Night's  Dream,  v. 


sc.  5.1  TWELFTH    NIGHT.  95 

1.  339.     Hence  'to  /any'  was  used  as  a  vcrli  in  the  sense  of  '  tn  bur- 
Icsijue';  as  in  Beaumont  aiul  1' lelcher,  The  Lover's  Progress,  i.  1  : 

'Were  I  the  wife 
Of  one  that  coulcl  but  zany  brave  Clcander.' 
/Vnd  The  Queen  of  Corinth,  i.  2  : 

'  And  takes  his  oath 
Upon  her  pantofles,  thai  all  excellence 
In  other  madams  do  but  zany  hers.' 
84.  siiJi-  of  self-lffvc.    Sidney  Walker  thought  this  a  proverbial  phrase, 
and  quoted  Ben  Jonson,  Staple  of  News,  v.  i  : 

'  So  say  all  prodigals 
Sick  of  self  love.' 
Hj.  distcmpcrrd,  disordered. 

86.  birJ-bolts,  short  blunt-headed  arrows  used  with  a  crossbow ;  also 
called  '  quarrels,'  from  the  French  '  Quarreau  ...  a  Quarrell,  or  boult  for 
a  Crossebow,  or  an  Arrow  with  a  foure-square  head  '  (Cotgrave). 

87.  an  allrwcd fool ,  a  licensed  fool. 

90.  Mcratry  endue  thee  with  leasing,  give  thee  the  gift  of  lying. 
\N  arbur'.on,  who  was  afterwards  a  bishop,  read  '  pleasing.'  But  Mercury, 
as  the  patron  of  thieves  and  cheating,  may  be  supposed  to  have  had  the 
power  of  endowing  his  devotees  with  a  faculty  which  was  of  the  first 
importance  to  them. 

92,  93.  a  young  gentleman  [who]  nitich  desires.  For  the  omission  of 
the  relative,  compare  Measure  for  Measure,  ii.  2.  38  ; 

'  1  have  a  brother  is  condemned  to  die.' 
.\nd  The  Merchant  of  Venice,  i.  i.  175: 

'  1  have  a  mind  presages  me  such  thrift.' 
."see  Abbott,  §  244. 

95.  'tis  a  fair  young  man.     Compare  The  Merchant  of  Venice,  iii. 

3-  18 : 

'  It  is  the  most  impenetrable  cur 

That  ever  kept  with  men.' 

Henry  V,  iii.  6.  70 :  '  Why,  'tis  a  gull,  a  fool,  a  rogue.'     And  Macbeth, 

i.  4.  jS  ;  '  It  is  a  peerless  kinsman.' 

97.  people,  attendants.     See  ii.  5.  54,  iii   4.  59- 

99,  100.  he  speaks  nothing  but  nuulinan      Compare   Henry  V,  v.  J. 

156  :  'I  speak  to  thee  plain  soldier.'     And  King  John,  ii.  i.  462  : 

•  He  speaks  plain  cannon  fire,  and  smoke  and  bounce.' 

105.  Jove.     See  note  on  iii.  4.  7'- 

106.  for,  -  here  he  comes,— one  of  thy  kin,  &c.  The  folios  have,  '  for 
here  he  comes  one  of  thy  kin,'  &c.,  which  the  late  Mr,  Dycc  stigmatised 
as  a  blunder  of  the  old  copy,  with  which  the  Cambridge  edilons  were 
unwilling  to  i>art.    In  common  with  other  modem  editors  from  the  litno 


g6  NOTES.  [act  I. 

of  Rcwe,  he  read  'here  comes  one  of  thy  kin,'  &c.,  which  yields  a  cer- 
tain sense,  but  has  no  particular  point.  The  Clown  hints  that  folly  ran 
in  Olivia's  family,  and  illustrates  this  by  pointing  to  Sir  Toby,  who  was 
just  entering.  In  the  sentence  as  printed  by  Rowe  and  his  successors, 
'  for '  has  no  meaning,  being  connected  with  '  here  comes,'  and  not  with 
'  one  of  thy  kin,'  &c. 

io6,  [07.  pi'a  mater.  Of  the  brain,  says  Burton  (Anatomy  of  Melan- 
choly, Part.  I,  Sec.  ;-,  Mem.  2,  Subs.  5),  'it  is  the  most  noble  organ 
under  heaven,  the  dwelling  house  and  seat  of  the  soul,  the  habitation  of 
wisdom,  memory,  judgement,  reason,  and  in  which  man  is  most  like  unto 
God  :  and  therefore  nature  hath  covered  it  with  a  skull  of  hard  bone, 
and  two  skins  or  membranes,  whereof  the  one  is  called  dura  mater,  or 
mcninx,  the  other  pia  viatcr.  The  dura  mater  is  next  to  the  skull,  above 
the  other,  which  includes  and  protects  the  brain.  When  this  is  taken 
away,  the //a  materia  to  be  seen,  a  thin  membrane,  the  next  and  im- 
mediate cover  of  the  brain,  and  not  covering  only,  but  entering  into  it.' 
It  is  used  for  the  brain  itself.  Compare  Troilus  and  Cressida,  ii.  i.  77  : 
'  I  will  buy  nine  sparrows  for  a  penny,  and  his  pia  mater  is  not  worth  the 
ninth  part  of  a  sparrow.* 

112.  these  pickle-herring.  Similar  consequences  have  been  attributed 
to  the  salmon. 

121.  give  me  fait  J:,  say9-I.  Sir  Toby  was  in  the  maudlin  stage  of 
drunkenness. 

lb.  all  one,  all  the  same.     See  v.  i.  18S,  360. 

124.  fiiads,  maddens.     So  in  Richard  II,  v.  5.  61  : 

'  This  music  mads  me ;    let  it  sound  no  more.' 

126.  croivner,  coroner.  See  Hamlet,  v.  i.  4:  'The  crowner  hath  sat 
on  her,  and  finds  it  Christian  burial.' 

128.  go  look.  There  is  no  comma  between  these  words  in  the  folios. 
Compare  Coriolanus,  i.  5.  26  (Clarendon  I'ress  ed.)  : 

'  Go  sound  thy  trumpet  in  the  market-place.' 
.\nd  see  note  on  the  jjassage. 

131.  yotidis  the  spelling  of  the  folios.  See  notes  on  As  Vou  Like  It, 
ii.  4.  58,  and  Julius  Ca:sar,  i.  2.  194,  in  the  Clarendon  Press  editions. 

152.  he  takes  on  him,  he  professes,  pretends.  Compare  Troilus  and 
Cressida,  i.  2.  153 :  'And  she  takes  upon  her  to  sjDy  a  white  hair  on  his 
chin.'  And  2  Henry  IV,  li.  2.  i  23  :  '  ''How  comes  that  V  "  says  he,  that 
takes  upon  him  not  to  conceive.' 

139.  Has.     The  folios  read  '  Ha"s ' ;  Pope,  '  He  has.'     But  '  he  '  is  fre- 
quently omitted  in  such  sentences.    See  v.  t.  188,  and  Coriolanus,  i.  3.  65 : 
'Has  such  a  confirmed  countenance.'  And  in  the  same  play,  iii.  1. 161, 162; 
'  Bru.    Has  said  enough. 
Sic.      Has  spoken  like  a  traitor.' 


sc.  5.]  TWELFTH   NIGHT.  97 

140.  a  sheriff's  /'ost.  At  the  sheriffs  door  it  was  usual  to  set  up  posts 
to  which  proclamations  could  be  affixed.  Warbuiton  tiuotes  Ben  Jonson, 
Ever)-  Man  out  of  his  Humour,  iii.  3: 

'  How  long  shoulil  1  be  ere  1  should  put  off 
To  the  lord  chancellor's  tomb,  or  the  shrives'  posts?' 

149.  a  si/uas/i,  tin  unripe  peascod.  Compare  A  Midsummer  Night's 
T>ream,  iii.  i.  191  : 

'  />o/.     Your  name,  honest  gentleman  ? 
/Vaj.    Peascblos->om. 

Bo/.     I  i>ray  you,  commend  me  to  Mistress  Squash,  yonr  mother, 
and  to  Master  I'eascod,  your  father.' 
And  Winter's  Tale,  i.  2.  160: 

'How  like,  methought,  I  then  was  to  this  kernel. 
This  squash,  this  gentleman.' 
/d.  a  codling  appears  to  have  been  a  small  unripe  apple.     So  much  is 
evident  from  the  present  passage,  and  the  notes  of  commentators  have 
ailded  nothing  to  our  knowledge. 

1 50.  ///  standing  water,  if  the  reading  be  correct,  must  mean  '  in  the 
condition  of  standing  water.'  So  'in  Pyramus'  ^A  Midsummer  Night's 
Dream,  iv.  2.  24)  signifies  '  in  the  character  of  Pyramus '  (.compare  A  Mid 
summer  Night's  Dream,  v.  i.  220,  'in  a  man  and  a  lion ').  Capell  reads 
'  e'en  standing  water,'  but  it  is  not  clear  that  the  alteration  is  necessary, 
although  '  in  '  is  to  be  found  as  a  misprint  for  'e'en ' ;  as  for  example  in 
Antony  and  Cleopatra,  iv.  15.  73,  where  the  folios  have,  'No  more  but 
in  a  woman.'     And  again  in  All's  Well,  iii.  2.  20. 

lb.  standing  "wafer,  neither  ebbing  nor  flowing,  so  lhal.il  is  impossible 
to  tell  which  way  it  moves.     Compare  The  Tempest,  ii.  1.  221  : 
'  Seb.     \\*ell,  I  am  standing  water. 
Ant.    I'll  tc.-xch  you  how  to  flow. 
Seb.  Do  so  :    to  ebb 

Hereditary  sloth  instructs  mc.' 

164.  to  con  it,  to  learn  ljy  heart  for  repetition,  as  an  actor  studies  his 
part.  See  ii.  3.  138.  and  As  You  Like  It,  iii.  2.  289 :  '  You  arc  full  of 
pretty  answers.  Have  you  not  been  acquainted  with  goldsmiths'  wives, 
and  conned  them  out  of  rings?' 

165.  comptibU,  susceptible,  sensitive.  Warburton  says  it  means  'ready 
Ui  call  to  account,"  but,  a-;  Steevens  points  out,  this  is  not  in  accord- 
ance with  Viola's  character.  'She  begs  she  may  not  Ix;  treated  with 
scorn,  because  she  is  very  submissive,  even  to  lighter  marks  of  repre- 
hension.' It  rather  means  '  easily  brought  to  account.'  Latimer  (Seven 
Sermons,  ed.  Arbcr,  p.  ioo>  has,  'We  are  coniptable  to  Cod.  and  so  l)c 
they.' 

1 70.   modest  assurance,  moderate  assurance,  only  enough  lo  satisfy  nic. 

H 


98  NOTES.  [act  I. 

173.  ;;y  profound  heart.  'Heart'  is  frequently  used  in  familiar 
afldresses  to  persons  (see  ii.  3.  15),  and  the  epithet  'profound  '  is  applied 
to  Olivia  in  bantering  compliment  to  her  sagacity. 

173.  by  the  very  fangs  of  malice.  Viola  appears  to  challenge  the  most 
malicious  construction  which  could  be  put  upon  her  conduct,  and  would 
only  amount  to  this,  that  she  was  not  what  she  seemed.  '  P'angs  '  is  spelt 
'  phangs '  in  the  folios. 

176.  If  I  do  not  HS7iyp,  or  counterfeit,  myself  Compare  v.  1.  242.  and 
The  Taming  of  the  Shrew,  Ind.  i.  131  : 

'The  boy  will  well  usurp  the  grace. 
Voice,  gait  and  action  of  a  gentlewoman.' 
Again,  Othello,  i.  3.  3-16:  'Defeat  thy  favour  with  an  usurped  beard.' 

]  79.  from  my  commission,  contrary  to  my  commission,  out  of  my  com- 
mission, forming  no  part  of  it.  See  v.  i.  320,  and  compare  1  Henry  IV, 
iii.  2.  31 : 

'Yet  let  me  wonder,  Harrj', 
At  thy  affections,  which  do  hold  a  wing 
Quite  from  the  flight  of  all  thy  ancestors.' 
And  Julius  Ceesar,  ii.  i.  196: 

'For  he  is  superstitious  grown  of  late. 
Quite  from  the  main  opinion  he  held  once 
Of  fantasy,  of  dreams  and  ceremonies.' 
•Tb   will  on.     The  omission  of  the  verb  of  motion  before  an  adverb  of 
direction  is  very  common.     So  Julius  Cxsar,  i.  i.  74  : 

•I'll  about. 
And  drive  away  the  vulgar  from  the  streets.' 
.See  Abbott,  §  405. 

180.  the  heart  of  my  message,  the  vital  and  important  part.  Compare 
Merry  Wives,  ii.  2.  233:  'Now,  Sir  Jolin,  here  is  the  heart  of  my 
purj^ose.' 

185.  //  is  the  more  like  to  be  feigned.  Compare  As  You  Like  It,  iii. 
3.  17-20: 

'  And.    I  do  not  know  what  "  poetical  "  is  :  is  it  honest  in  deed  and 
word  V  is  il  a  true  thing  ? 

Totich.  No,  Irul)' ;  for  the  truest  poetry  is  the  most  feigning.' 
18S.  If  you  be  7iot  viad.  Mason  proposed  to  read  '  If  you  be  mad,' 
considering  '  be  mad  '  as  opposed  to  '  have  reason  ' ;  but  there  is  quite 
as  much  contrast  between  a  state  of  mind  which  is  a  little  short  of 
madness,  and  that  which  is  distinguished  by  the  possession  of  clear 
reason,  and  Olivia  appears  to  imply  that  Viola  may  not  be  actually  mad, 
but  only  going  mad,  and  in  that  case  bids  her  begone.  Staunton  sug- 
gested '  but  mad,'  that  is,  only  mad. 

189.   ilial  time  of  moon,  which  at  full  was  believe!  to  affect  luna  ics. 


sc.  5.]  TWELFTH   XIGHT.  99 

//'.  ski/</<iiii^,  flighty  and  incoherent.  Compare  The  Merchant  of 
Venice,  ii.  2.  196: 

'  Pray  thee,  take  pain 
To  allay  with  some  cold  drops  of  modesty 
Thy  skipping;  spirit.' 
19J.  swabber.      Admiral  Smyth   (The  Sailor's  Word-book)  defines 
'  Swab '  as  '  a  sort  of  long  mop,  formed  of  rope-yarns  of  old  junk,  used 
for  cleaning  and  drying  the  decks  and  cabins  of  a  ship  ; '   and  '  Swabber ' 
as  '  a  jx-tty  officer  on  board  ships  of  war,  whose  employment  was  to  see 
that  the  decks  were  kept  clean.     Also,  a  man  formerly  appointed  to  use 
the  swabs  in  dr)ing  up  the  decks."     So  in  Lodge's  Wits  Miserie  (1596), 
p.  4 :  '  He  telleth  them  of  wonders  done  in  Spaine  by  his  ancestors : 
where,  if  the  matter  were  well  e.xamine<l,  his  father  was  but  Swabber  in 
the  ship  where  Ciuill  Oranges  were  the  best  merchandize.'     Compare 
Deaumont  and  Fletcher,  Scornful  Lady,  iii.  i  : 

'  Go  and  reform  thyself ;  pr'ythee  be  sweeter ; 
And  know  my  lady  speaks  with  no  such  swabbers.' 
III.  to  hull  is  said   of  a   ship  when  she  lies  without  any  sails  set. 
Compare  Sidney's  Arcadia  (ed.  159S),   p.  4  :    'A  ship,   or  rather  the 
carkas  of  the  ship,  or  rather  some  few  bones  of  the  carkas,  hulling  there, 
part  broken,  part  burned,  part  drowned.' 

'y3-  your  ^aiit.  Maria  was  very  small.  See  ii.  5.  11,  iii.  2.  61. 
-Malone  compares  2  Henry  IV,  i.  2.  i,  where  KalstafT  addresses  his  page, 
■  Sirrah,  you  giant.' 

193,  194.  Tell .  .  .  messenger.  Hanmer,  at  Warburton's  suggestion, 
read, 

'  on.  Tell  me  your  mind. 
Vio.  I  am  a  messenger.' 
Possibly  something  is  omitted. 

196.  the  courtesy  0/ it,  the  ceremony  with  which  it  is  introduced. 

197.  no  oz<erture  of  war,  no  proposal  or  declaration  of  war. 

198.  no  taxation  of  homage,  no  claim  or  demand  for  homage. 
2C4.  maidenhead,  maidenhood,  virginity. 

jji.  such  a  one  I  7vas  this  /resent.  Olivia  si'caks  as  if  she  were 
shewing  Viola  her  portrait.  '  She  says,'  remarks  Steevens,  *  I  7vas  this 
present,  instead  of  saying  1  am  ;  because  she  had  once  shewn  herself, 
and  personates  the  beholder,  who  is  afterwards  to  make  the  relation.' 
Malone  thinks  that,  before  speaking  these  words,  Shakespeare  intended 
Olivia  again  to  cover  her  face.  \  nrious  changes  of  reading  have  l>een 
suggested.  Warburton  read,  'Such  a  one  I  wear  this  jiresent ' ;  Mason 
proposed,  'Such  as  once  I  was  this  presents';  Steevens,  'Such  a  one  I 
was.  This  presence,  is't  not  well  done  ? '  Singer  conjectured,  '  Such  a 
one  I  was  as  this  presents.' 

H  2 


lOO  NOTES.  [act  I. 

22  2.  if  God  did  all.  Compare  Beaumont  and  Fletcher,  The  Woman 
Hater,  i.  3  :  '  I'll  tell  you  what  yon  shall  see  :  you  shall  see  many  faces 
of  man's  making,  for  you  shall  find  very  few  as  God  left  them.'  And 
Love's  Labour's  Lost,  v.  2.  529  :  '  He  speaks  not  like  a  man  of  God's 
making.'  Again,  As  You  Like  It,  iii.  2.  216 :  'Is  he  of  God's 
making  ?  ' 

223.  in  grain,  that  is,  a  fast  colour,  which  will  not  wash  out  :  so 
called  from  the  grain  or  kennes  of  which  the  purple  dye  was  originally 
made.    Compare  Comedy  of  Errors,  iii.  2. 108: 

'Ant.  S.  That's  a  fault  that  water  will  mend. 
Dro.  .V.  No,  Sir,  'tis  in  grain  ;   Noah's  flood  could  not  do  it.' 

224.  />len^,  blended,  mingled.  For  this  form  of  the  participle  see 
The  Merchant  of  Venice,  iii.  2.  183  : 

'  Where  every  something,  being  blent  together. 
Turns  to  a  wild  of  nothing.' 
228.  leave  the  world  no  copy.     The  resemblances  in  the  3rd,  9th,  and 
1 3lh  Sonnets  have  been  pointed  out  by  Steevens  and  Malone. 

230.  schednles.  Spelt  'scedules'  in  the  first  folio.  Cotgrave  (Fr. 
Diet.)  gives  the  three  forms  in  French,  Cedule,  Scedule,  and  Schedule ; 
and  in  Sherwood's  English  and  French  Dictionary  (1632)  we  find, 
'  A  Scedule.     Scedule,  cedule  ;  minute,  schede,  schedule.' 

231.  labelled,  affixed  in  a  label. 

232.  iiidiffercnt.     See  i.  3.  121. 

234.  to  praise,  to  appraise,  value.  So  in  Troilus  and  Cressida,  iii.  2. 
97  :   '  Praise  us  as  we  are  tasted,  allow  us  as  we  prove.' 

235.  /  see  yp7t  'what  yon  arc.  Compare  Mark  i.  24:  'I  know  thee 
who  thou  art.'  For  examples  of  this  constraction,  sec  Sidney  Walker's 
Critical  Examination  of  the  Text  of  Shakespeare,  i.  68-71. 

240.  With  adorations,  fertile  tears.  The  halting  metre  of  this  line 
has  been  variously  amended.  Pope  read  '  with  fertile  tears ' ;  but  it 
seems  as  if  the  cure  lay  in  an  epithet  to  'adorations.'  In  the  Cambridge 
Shakespeare  we  suggested  that  the  lost  word  may  have  been  'earthward' 
or  '  earthly,'  so  that  all  the  four  elements  '  of  which  our  life  consists ' 
(ii.  3.  9)  would  be  represented  in  the  symptoms  of  Orsino's  passion. 

245.  ///  voices  ivell  divulged,  by  public  acclamation  held  of  good 
repute.     Compare  Coriolanus,  ii.  2.  144  : 

'Sir,  the  people 
Must  have  their  voices ;   neither  will  they  bate 
One  jot  of  ceremony  ' 
And  Julius  Caesar,  ii.  i.  146  : 

'And  buy  men's  voices  to  commend  our  deeds.' 
Jb.  free,  generous,   noble.     See   ii.   4.  45,  and  compare  Troilus  and 
Cressida,  iv.  5.  139: 


sc.  5-]  TWELFTH  NIGHT.  lOI 

'I  thank  thee.  Hector: 
Thou  art  too  gentle  and  too  free  a  man.' 
.\nd  Othello,  iii.  3.  199: 

'  I  would  not  have  your  free  and  noble  nature, 
Out  of  self-bounty,  be  abused.' 
246.  Jimension,  bodily  proportion.     Sec  v.  i.  229. 
lb.  shape  of  nature,  natural  shape.     So  'fools  of  nature,'   Ilamlct, 
i.  4.  54;    'slave   of  nature,'   Richard  III,  i.   3.  230;    'diminutives  ot 
nature,'  Troilus  and  Cressida,  v.  1.  39. 

^47.  grcuioHs,  ^'racefiil,   full  of  ijrace  and  attractiveness.     Compare 
Kinjj  John,  iii.  4.  Si  : 

'  There  was  not  such  a  gracious  creature  born.' 
And  The  Merchant  of  \'cnicc,  iii.  i.  ~fi: 

'  In  law  what  plea  so  tainted  and  corrupt 
But,  being  season'd  with  a  gracious  voice. 
Obscures  the  show  of  evil  ? ' 

248.  took,  taken.     The  preterite  form  used  for  the  participle.     So  in 
Julius  CcEsar,  ii.  i.  50: 

'  Such  instigations  have  been  often  dropp'd 
Where  1  have  took  them  up.' 

249.  in  my  master's  fame,  with  such  ardour  as  my  master  loves  you. 
'  In  '  is  here  very  much  like  the  French  cii. 

255.  lantons,  cantos ;  to  which  Rowe  altered  it.  Malone  quotes 
The  London  Prodigal,  iii.  2:  'Yon  say  true.  What-do-you-cali-him 
hath  it  there  in  his  third  canton.'  Hcywood's  Great  Britaines  Troy 
1609)  is  described  in  the  title-page  .ns  'A  Poem  deuided  into  xvii. 
.-icuerall  cantons.'  Capell's  substitution  of  '  canzons '  was  therefore  un- 
necessary. 

257.  rt'zw/;<»-ai'£\  re  echoing  ;  changed  .by  Theobald  tu  '  reverberant.' 
Holt  White  (juotes  from  IIc^■^vood's  Britaines  Troy,  canto  xi.  st.  9 : 

'  Give  shrill  Reuerberat  Ecchoes  and  rebounds.' 
.\nd  Delius  refers  to  Drayton,  Polyolbion,  Song  ix.  55-58 : 
'The  loftie  Hills,  this  while  attentiuely  that  stood, 
As  to  suruey  the  course  of  euery  seuerall  Flood, 
Sent  forth  such  ecchoing  shoutes    which  euery  way  so  shrill, 
With  the  reuerberate  sound  the  spacious  ayre  did  till  .' 
But  in  both  these  cases  'reverberate'  is  passive  and  not  active.    Steevens 
however  gives  an  instance  of  the  active  sense  of  the  word  from    Ben 
Jonson,  The  Masijue  of  Blackness  : 

'  N\hich  skill  Pythagoras 
F"irst  taught  to  men  by  a  reverberate  glass ' ; 
where  '  reverlierate '  =  p.-verljcrant  or  reverlx-Tating.     Similarly  in  Corio- 
lanus.  i.  i.  106,  '  participate '  =  participant : 


102  NOTES.  [act  I.  5C.  5. 

'  Where  the  other  instruments 
Did  see  and  hear,  devise,  instruct,  walk,  feel, 
And,  mutually  participate,  did  minister 
Unto  the  appetite  and  affection  common 
Of  the  whole  body.' 
And  in  Hamlet,  i.  i.  83,  '  emulate'  has  an  active  sense : 

'  Thereto  prick 'd  on  by  a  most  emulate  pride.* 
263.  siaie,  estate,  condition. 

269.  710  feed  post,  no  hired  messenger.  Compare  Coriolanus, 
V.  6.  50  : 

'Your  native  town  you  enter'd  like  a  post.' 
273.  crttelty,  abstract  for  concrete.     See  ii.  4.  80. 

278.  blazon,  a  term  of  heraldry,  denoting  the  verbal  description  of 
armorial  bearings.  Viola  had  no  need  of  a  coat  of  arms  to  proclaim 
her  gentle  birth. 

279.  Unless  the  master  were  tlie  man.  Hanmer  reads  'Unless  the 
man  the  master  were.'  But  Olivia  does  not  wish  that  the  man  had  the 
rank  and  dignity  of  the  master,  but  that  tlie  master  had  the  attractiveness 
of  the  man. 

283.  To  creep.  In  modern  usage  'to'  would  be  redundant.  But 
compare  iii.  i.  107  ;  Julius  Cossar,  ii.  2.  38  : 

'  They  would  not  have  you  to  stir  forth  to  day.' 
And  Othello,  iv.  2.  12  : 

'  I  diirst,  my  lord,  to  wager  she  is  honest.' 
Again,  Comedy  of  Errors,  v.  i.  25  :  'Who  heard  me  to  deny  it?'  In 
Cymbeline,  v.  4.  187,  the  reading  of  the  folios,  and  no  doubt  the  correct 
one,  is  '  You  must  either  be  directed  by  some  that  lake  upon  them  to 
know,  or  to  take  upon  yourself  that  which  I  am  sure  you  do  not 
know.' 

285.  peevish,  foolish,  silly,  wayward  See  note  on  Julius  Ca'sar, 
V.  I.  61. 

286.  77/1?  county's  man.  Capell's  reading.  The  first  folio  has 
'Countes,'  the  others  'Counts,'  which  Rowe  altered  to  'Duke's.'  So  in 
Much  Ado,  ii.  i.  195,  the  quarto  has  'County,'  while  the  folio  has 
'Count';  and  in  ii.  1.  370,  the  quarto  has  'Countie,'  while  the  first 
folio  has  'Counte  '  and  the  others  'Count  *  as  here. 

287.  /'//  none.     See  i.  3.  98. 

288.  to  flatter  with  his  lord.  For  the  construction  compare  Two 
Gentlemen  of  Verona,  iv.  4.  19;,  : 

'  Unless  I  flatter  with  myself  too  much.' 
And  Richard  II,  ii.  1.  88: 

'Should  dying  men  flatter  with  those  that  live?' 
291.  hie  thee,  haste  thee. 


ACT  II.  SC 


1.]  TWELFTH    MUIIT.  IO3 


294.  too  great  a  flatterer  for  my  mind,  so  that  my  mind  will  be  un- 
able to  resist  the  too  favourable  impression  which  my  eyes  have 
received. 

295.  ourselves  xve  do  not  owe,  we  are  not  masters  of  ourselves.  For 
'  owe'  in  the  sense  of '  possess,'  see  A  Midsummer  Night's  Dream,  ii.  2.79: 

'  Churl,  upon  thy  eyes  I  throw 
All  the  power  this  charm  doth  owe.' 

ACT  II. 

Scene  I. 

I.  nor  .  .  .  not.  Compare  Measure  for  Measure,  ii.  i.  j^i  :  '  But  the 
l.iw  will  not  allow  it,  Tompey  ;  nor  it  shall  not  be  allowed  in  Vienna.' 
.^nd  The  Merchant  of  Venice,  v.  i.  35  : 

'  Steph.    I  pray  you,  is  my  master  yet  retum'd  ? 
Lor.    Fie  is  not,  nor  we  have  not  heard  from  him.' 
,"•,.  By  your  patienie,  by  your  leave,  with  your  permission.     Com]  are 
The  Tempest,  iii.  3.  3  : 

'  By  your  jiatience, 
I  needs  must  rest  n^.e ' 
//'.  my  stars,  the  planets  which  influence  my  destiny.     See  i.  3.  i  20. 
4.  malignancy,  malignant  aspect. 

lb.  distemper,  disorder,  disturb ;  used  either  of  physical  causes  or 
mental  emotions.     See  i   5.  S:,  and  Othello,  i.  i.  99  : 

'  Being  full  of  supper  and  distempering  draughts.' 
Again,  Venus  and  Adonis,  653,  of  jealousy: 

'  Distempering  gentle  Love  in  his  desire.' 
And  The  Tempest,  iv.  i.  145  : 

'  Never  till  this  day 
Saw  I  him  tonch'd  with  anger  so  distemper'd.' 

8.  bound,  intending  or  about  to  go  ;  generally  used  of  a  ship. 

9.  AV,  sootJi,  no,  in  truth ;  no,  truly.  See  ii.  4.  88,  and  Julius  Casar, 
ii.  4.  :o  :  '  Sooth,  madam,  I  hear  nothing.'  The  full  phrase  is  '  in  sooth,' 
or,  '  in  good  sooth.'  both  which  are  of  common  occurrence,  and  both  are 
used  without  the  preposition.  'Sooth'  is  from  the  Anglo-Saxon  s66, 
true;  and  both  soO  and  sode  are  used  adverbially  in  the  sense  of  '  truly.' 
We  find  also  on  s66e,  in  truth. 

lb.  determinate,  fixed,  limited. 

10.  extravagancy,  roaming  at  large,  wandering  without  an  object. 
Sebastian  says,  his  most  settled  plan  of  travelling  is  mere  vagrancy. 
The  substantive  does  not  occur  again  in  Shakespeare,  but  we  find  the 
adjective  in  Othello,  i.  i.  137  : 


I04  NOTES.  [act  ii. 

'  Tyinij  her  duty,  beauty,  wit  and  forlunos 
In  an  extravagant  and  wheeling  stranger 
Of  here  and  e%ery  where.' 
I},  a  touch   or   delicate   feeling.    Compare  A  Midsummer   Night's 
Dream,  iii.  2.  286  : 

'  Have  you  no  modesty,  no  maiden  shame. 
No  touch  of  bashfuluess  ? ' 
And  The  Tempest,  v.  i.  21  : 

'  Hast  thou,  which  art  but  air,  a  touch,  a  feeling 
Of  their  afflictions  ?  ' 
Again,  Cymbeline,  i.  i.  135  : 

'  I  am  senseless  of  your  wrath  ;  a  touch  more  rare 
Subdues  all  pangs,  all  fears.' 

12.  it  charges  me,  it  is  incumbent  upon  me. 

lb.  in  mannci's,  in  accordance  with  good  manners.  Compare  Sonnet, 
Ixxxv.  1  :  '  My  tongue-tied  Muse  in  manners  holds  her  still.' 

13.  to  express  myself,  make  myself  known. 

15.  Messaline,  a  place  unknown  to  geographers.  Hanmer  therefore 
read  'Metelin,'  that  is,  Mitylene. 

1 9.  the  breach  of  the  sea,  where  the  sea  broke,  the  breakers  or  surf. 
Steevens  quotes  from  Pericles,  ii.  1.  161,  where  the  old  editions  read, 
'  And,  spite  of  all  the  rupture  of  the  sea, 
This  jewel  holds  his  building  on  my  arm.' 

23.  was,  who  was.  Hanmer  reads  "  who,  tho' '  for  '  though  '  in  the 
previous  line.     .See  i.  5.  92,  93. 

24.  7c///i  such  estimable  wonder,  with  the  admiration  which  influenced 
such  a  judgement.  The  phrase  is  one  for  which  it  is  difficult  to  find  an 
equivalent,  and  Warburton  omitted  it  as  an  interpolation  of  the  players. 
Johnson  says,  '  Estimable  wonder  is  esteeming  wonder,  or  wonder  and 
esteem.  The  meaning  is,  that  he  could  not  venture  to  think  so  highly 
as  others  of  his  sister.'  Of  course  this  is  roughly  the  meaning,  but  it 
does  not  come  from  Johnson's  substituted  phrases. 

28.  'cvith  more,  that  is,  with  salt  tears.  Steevens  compares  Ilamlcl, 
iv.  7.  186,  187  : 

'  Too  much  of  water  hast  thou,  poor  Ophelia, 
And  therefore  I  forbid  my  tears.' 

30.  your  trouble,  the  trouble  you  have  had  about  me. 

31.  If  you  will  not  murder  me  for  my  love.  Knight  suggests  that 
Shakespeare  in  this  may  have  referred  to  a  superstition  of  which  Scott 
makes  use  in  The  Pirate,  that  any  one  who  was  saved  from  drowning 
would  do  his  preserver  a  capital  injury.  But  Antonio  seems  only  to  appeal 
to  Sebastian  not  to  kill  him  as  a  reward  for  his  love  by  abandoning  him. 

36.  the  manners  of  my  mother.     Compare  Henry  V,  iv.  6.  30-32  : 


so.  3.]  TWELFTH    NIGHT.  I05 

'  Bui  I  hail  not  so  much  of  man  in  nic, 
And  all  my  mother  came  into  mine  eyes 
And  gave  me  up  to  tears.' 
'>^ce  also  Hamlet,  iv.  7.  190. 

Scene  II. 

The  stage  direction  of  the  Folios  is,  '  Enter  Viola  and  Maluolio,  at 
scuerall  doores.' 

I.  even  noxu,  just  now.     So  in  The  Tempest,  ii.  i.  .^i  t  : 

'  Even  now,  we  heard  a  hollow  burst  of  bellowing.' 

'..  on  a  inodiratc  pace,  by  walking  at  a  moderate  pace.  'On'  is 
Irt'iuently  used  with  that  which  is  the  occasion  of  anything. 

3.  to  have  taken  it  away,  by  taking  it  away.  Compare  the  Merchant 
of  Venice,  iv.  i.  431  :  'I  will  not  shame  myself  to  give  you  this' ;  that 
is,  by  giving  you  this.     See  Abbott,  §  356. 

6,  7.  a  desperate  assurance,  an  assurance  which  will  drive  him  to 
despair,  or  will  leave  him  without  hope  of  a  change. 

8.  so  hardy  to  come,  that  is,  as  to  come.  So  in  Lear,  i.  ^.  40,  41  : 
Not  so  yonng,  sir,  to  love  a  woman  for  singing,  nor  so  old  to  dote  on 
her  for  anything.' 

I I .  She  took  the  rin^  of  me :  I '//  /tone  of  it.  In  an  admirable  study 
of  the  character  of  Viola  the  late  Mr.  Spedding  completely  justified  the 
correctness  of  this  reading,  which  is  substantially  that  of  the  folios,  and 
gives,  as  he  says,  '  one  of  the  finest  touches  in  the  l)lay.'  '  When 
Malvolio  overtakes  her  with  the  ring  which  the  countess  pretended  that 
she  had  left,  her  immediate  answer  is  : 

"  .SV/(»  took  the  ring  of  me:  I'll  none  of  it." 
Now,  as  she  had  not  left  any  ring,  it  has  been  thought  that  there  must 
be  some  mistake  here,  and  that  we  should  either  read  "  no  ring"  instead 
of  "the  ring";  or  make  an  interrogative  exclamation  of  it,  "'She  took 
the  ring  of  me  \  "  But  it  is  plain  from  Malvolio's  reply,  "  Come,  sir,  you 
peevishly  threw  it  to  her,"  &c.,  that  he  understood  her  to  mean  that  she 
/tOi/  left  it.  And  so  no  doubt  she  did.  For  though  taken  quite  by 
surprise,  and  not  knowing  at  first  what  it  exactly  meant,  she  saw  at 
once  thus  much, — that  the  message  contained  a  secret  of  some  kind 
which  had  not  been  confided  to  the  messenger ;  and  with  her  quick  wit 
and  s\mpathetic  delicacy  supjjressed  the  suriirise  which  might  have 
betrayed  it.'     Kraser's  Magazine,  August  1865. 

14.  in  your  eye,  in  vour  sight,  before  your  eyes.  So  Hamlet,  iv. 
4.6: 

'  If  that  his  majesty  would  aught  with  us. 
We  shall  express  our  duty  in  his  eye.' 


106  NOTES.  [act  n. 

i(i.  Fortune  forbid  my  outside  have  not  c/iarin'd  her.  'Not'  is 
frequently  found  after  verbs  which  contain  in  themselves  a  negative 
idea.  Compare  The  Passionate  Pilgrim,  124:  'Forbade  the  boy  he 
should  not  pass  those  grounds.'  Again,  Much  Ado,  iv.  i.  13:  'If 
either  of  you  know  any  inward  impediment  why  you  should  not  be 
conjoined,  I  charge  you,  on  your  souls,  to  utter  it.'  Similarly,  Comedy 
of  Errors,  iv.  2.7:'  First  he  denied  you  had  in  him  no  right.' 

17.  made  good  view  of  me,  surveyed  me  closely.    Compare  v.  i.  50. 

18,  sure  is  omitted  in  the  first  folio  but  is  supplied  in  the  second. 
It  is  not  a  very  happy  emendation.  Sidney  Walker  suggested  'as 
me  thought,'  and  this  is  adopted  by  Dyce. 

//'.  had  lost  her  tongue,  caused  her  to  lose  her  tongue.  Compare 
1  car,  i.  2.  125  :  'It  shall  lose  thee  nothing  ' 

J  I.  in,  in  the  person  of,  by  means  of.     See  i.  5.  150. 

24.  she  were  better  love  a  dream.  So  As  You  Like  It,  iv.  i.  73  : 
'  Nay,  you  were  better  speak  first.'  See  above,  i.  5.  28,  and  note  on  The 
Tempest,  i.  2.  367  (Clarendon  Press  ed.).     Abbott,  §  230. 

26.  pregnant,  quick-witted,  alert,  ready.  See  iii.  t.  87,  and  Measure 
for  Measure,  i.  i.  12  : 

'The  nature  of  our  people. 
Our  city's  institutions,  and  the  terms 
For  common  justice,  you're  as  pregnant  in 
As  art  and  practice  hath  enriched  any 
That  we  remember.' 

27.  proper-false,  false-hearted  but  with  a  goodly  exterior.  Com- 
pare 'beauteous-evil,'   iii.   4.   352.     So   in   The   Merchant   of  Venice, 

i-  3-  103: 

'  O  what  a  goodly  outside  falsehood  hath  ! ' 
The  words  were  hyphened  by  Malone.     For  '  proper '  in  this  sense,  see 
Hebrews,  xi.   23 :  '  By  faith  Moses,  when  he  was  born,  was  hid  three 
months  of  his  parents,  because  they  saw  he  was  a  proper  child.' 

28.  ■z£/ajr^«,  impressible  as  wax.     So  Lucrece,  1240: 

'For  men  have  marble,  women  waxen  minds.' 

30.  snch  as  ive  are  niaiie  of,  such,  &c.  Tyrwhitt's  emendation.  The 
folios  have  '  such  as  we  are  made,  if  such,'  &c.,  which  Johnson  would 
retain,  transposing  lines  29  and  30. 

31.  How  will  this  fudge  {  How  will  this  suit?  How  will  this 
succeed?  Compare  Love's  Labour's  Lost,  v.  i.  154:  'We  will  have, 
if  this  fadge  not,  an  antique.'  Professor  Skeal  derives  it  from  the 
Anglo-Saxon yi^^vj:;/  to  compact,  tit. 

32.  monster.  Hanmer  reads  'minister,'  but  Viola  refei-s  to  her  being 
really  woman  and  apparently  man. 

Jb.  fond.     No  other  example  is  given  of  the  use  of  '  fond  '  as  a  verb. 


sc.  3]  TWELFTH    SIGHT.  107 

For  instances  of  verbs  fonned  from  substantives  and  adjectives,  see 
Theobald's  Shakespeare  Restored,  pp.  7-12,  and  Abbott's  Shakespeare 
Grammar,  §  J90. 

Sam  III. 

2.  diluculo  surgere,  a  reminiscence  of  Lilly's  Grammar. 

9.  Dots  not  our  life.  See.  The  folios  have  '  Does  not  our  lives,  &c.' 
Rowe  made  the  correction. 

/i>.  the  four  cUnunts,  earth,  air,  fire,  and  water ;  which  were  believed 
to  enter  into  the  composition  of  ever)'  man,  and  upon  a  proper  blending 
of  which  the  temperament  and  character  depended.  Compare  the 
description  of  Bratus  in  Julius  Casar,  v.  5.  73,  and  the  note  on  that 
passage  in  the  Clarendon  Press  edition.  See  also  Antony  and  Cleopatra, 
V.  2.  292  : 

'  I  am  fire  and  air ;  my  other  elements 
I  give  to  baser  life.' 
.Vnd  the  note  to  Henrj'  V,  iii.  7.  20  (Clarendon  Press  ed.\ 

13.  a  stoup  is  a  drinking-cup,  and  the  word  is  still  used  in  onr 
collie  halls  and  butteries.  See  Hamlet,  v.  1.68:  '  Fetch  me  a  stoup 
of  liquor.'  It  was  a  vessel  of  var)ing  capacity.  Etymologicallv,  '  stoup ' 
is  from  the  Middle  English  stope,  which  had  for  its  ancestor  the  Anglo- 
Saxon  stCiip,  a  cup,  and  for  its  kindred  the  Icelandic  stau/a,  Swedish 
stop,  Dutch  stoop  and  German  staiif. 

1 5,  1 6.  the  picture  of '  'ce  three.'  According  to  Malone,  '  Shakesjieare 
had  in  his  thought  a  common  sign,  in  which  two  wooden  heads  are 
exhibited,  with  this  inscription  under  it :  "  We  three  loggerheads  be." 
The  spectator  or  reader  is  supposed  to  make  the  third.'  Douce  thinks 
that  the  sign  represented  two  fools  :  I  Icnley,  two  asses,  as  appears  probable 
from  Sir  Toby's  speech  ;  but  the  explanation  is  the  same.  Ilalliwell 
quotes  from  Taylor,  the  Water  Poet's  Farewell  to  the  Tower  Bottles 
[Spenser  Soc.  etl.  p.  608]  : 

'  Plaine  home-spun  stuffe  shall  now  proceed  from  me, 
Much  like  vnto  the  picture  of  we  Three.' 
On  which  the  marginal  note  is,  '  The  picture  of  two  Fooles,  and  the  third 
looking   on,    I    doe   fitly   compare   with    the    two    blacke  Bottles  and 
my  selfe.' 

1 7.  a  eatih  or  part-song.  See  below,  1.  63.  and  note  on  The  Tempest, 
iii.  i.  114  (Clarendon  Press  etl.). 

18.  breast,  voice.  Compare  Ascham's  Toxophilus  (ed.  Arber),  p.  42  ; 
'  Besyde  al  these  commodities,  truly  .ii.  degrees  of  menne,  which  haue  the 
highest  offices  %-nder  the  king  in  all  this  rcalme,  shal  greatly  lacke  the  vse 
of  Singinge,  preachers  and  lawiers,  bycause  they  shal  not  without  this. 


ro8  NOTES.  [Act  II. 

be  able  to  rule  their  brestes,  for  euery  purpose.'  And  lIollaiKl's 
Plutarch,  p.  1 249  :  '  And  as  for  Thamyris  a  Thracian  borne,  he  reporteth, 
that  of  all  men  living  in  those  dales,  he  had  the  sweetest  brest,  and  sung 
most  melodiously.' 

19.  /had  rather  than  forty  shillings.  So  in  Merry  Wives,  i.  i.  205  : 
'  I  had  rather  than  forty  shillings  I  had  my  Book  of  Songs  and  Sonnets 
here.' 

24.  thy  Ictnan,  thj'-  mistress  or  sweetheart.  In  Middle  English  the 
word  appears  in  the  forms  Icofinon,  lefmon,  and  Icfman  of  which  laninan 
or  leman  is  the  abbreviation.  In  the  folios  the  spelling  is  Lemon, 
which  was  corrected  by  Tlieobald.  It  is  used  of  either  sex.  See 
Merry  Wives,  iv.  2.  172  :  'As  jealous  as  Ford,  that  searched  a  hollow 
walnut  for  his  wife's  leman.' 

lb.  hadst  it.  In  familiar  questions  '  thou '  is  frequently  omitted. 
Compare  As  You  Like  It,  iii.  2.  22  :  '  Hast  any  philosophy  in  thee?' 

25.  I  did  impeticos  thy  gratillity,  &c.  Steevens  has  endeavoured  to  make 
sense  out  of  what  even  Sir  Andrew  saw  was  nonsense,  and  gives  the 
following  as  a  probable  explanation  :  '  He  says  he  did  impeticoat  the 
gratuity,  i.  e.  he  gave  it  to  hxs petticoat  companion  ;  for  i^says  he)  "  Mal- 
volio's  nose  is  no  whipstock,"  i.  e.  Malvolio  may  smell  out  our  con- 
nection, but  his  suspicion  will  not  prove  the  instrument  of  our  punish- 
ment. "  My  mistress  has  a  white  hand,  and  the  myrmidons  are  no 
bottle-ale  houses,"  i.  e.  my  mistress  is  handsome,  but  the  houses 
kept  by  officers  of  justice  are  no  places  to  jnake  merry  and  entertain 
her  at.' 

28,  29.  when  all  is  done,  after  all.  Sec  A  Midsummer  Night's  Dream, 
iii.  I.  16:  'I  believe  we  must  leave  the  killing  out,  when  all  is  done.' 
And  Macbeth,  iii.  4.  67  : 

'  When  all 's  done. 
You  look  but  on  a  stool.' 

32.  testril,  sixpence;  U'kc  'tester,'  which  occurs  in  2  Henry  IV. 
iii.  2.  296,  a  corruption  of  'teston,'  which  was  borrowed  from  the 
French.  It  may  be  that  '  testril '  is  a  diminutive  of  '  tester.'  Cotgrave 
(Icfuics  'Teston;  m.  .  .  .  a  Testoone  ;  a  piece  of  siluer  coyne  worth 
xviijd.  sterling.'  It  was  struck  by  Louis  XII  and  so  called  because  it 
had  a  head  {teste  \  stamped  upon  it.  See  Ruding's  Annals  of  the 
Coinage,  ii.  86.  In  England  testoons  were  first  struck  by  Henry  VIII. 
in  1543>  going  for  twelve  pence  a  piece,  the  pound  of  silver  being  ten  ozs. 
fine  and  two  ozs.  alloy.  In  the  reign  of  Edward  VT,  the  coinage  was 
so  far  debased  that  a  testoon  was  only  current  tor  sixpence,  and  in  1560 
the  better  sort  were  marked  with  a  portcullis  and  passed  for  ^\d.,  while 
the  inferior  were  marked  with  a  greyhound,  and  passod  for  2\d.  See 
Stow's  Annals  (ed.  1580),  p.  11 15. 


sc.  3.]  TWELFTH    SIGHT.  IO9 

lb.  of  me.     Compare  Love's  Labour 's  Lost,  iv.  3.  1 97  : 
' A'ing.  Where  had'st  then  it? 
/(!</.  Of  Costard.' 

33.  giz'e  a.  So  the  second  and  later  folios.  The  tirst  folio  has 
'  giue  a  '  at  the  end  of  a  line  without  any  dash,  and  probably  some  words 
which  should  follow  are  omitted. 

o4>  35-  ^  song  of  good  life  was  a  song  with  a  moral  in  it.  Steevens 
thinks  it  may  mean  a  song  of  good  living  in  the  other  sense,  but  Sir 
Andrew  did  not  take  it  so.  We  find  'good  life,'  in  the  sense  of  virtuous 
conduct,  in  Merry  Wives,  iii.  3.  127  :  '  Defend  your  reputation,  or  bid 
farewell  to  your  good  life  for  ever.' 

•  o.  .r:ive(  ami  tiventy,  that  is,  sweet  kisses  and  twenty  of  them,  twenty 
l)eing  used  as  a  round  number ;  or  we  may  point  with  Theobald  '  sweet, 
and  twenty,'  makiiig  '  sweet '  a  vocative.  But  to  read  '  sweet  and  twenty ' 
as  a  vocative  wth  Boswell  is  certainly  wrong.  There  are  many  instances 
of  this  use  of  '  twenty.'  Compare  Merrj-  Wives,  ii.  i.  203  :  '  Good  even 
and  twent}',  good  Master  Page ! '  Again,  Rowley,  When  you  see  me 
you  know  me  (ed.  Elze"),  p.  26  :  '  God  ye  good  night  and  twenty,  sir.' 
And  in  The  Two  Noble  Kinsmen,  v.  4: 

'  Wooer.   I  told  her  presently,  and  kiss'd  her  twice. 
Doctor.  'Twas  well  done :  twenty  times  had  been  far  better.' 
And  again  in  the  same  scene, 

'  Daugh.  And  shall  we  kiss  too  ? 
Wooer.  A  hundred  times. 
Daugh.         •  And  twenty? 

Wooer.  Ay,  and  twenty.' 

■;<).  f/ie  u'elkin,  the  sky.  See  iii.  1.  56.  From  the  .Middle  Lnglish 
weikne  or  -woUne,  Anglo-Saxon  -woknu,  clouds. 

57,  58.  that  -will  ilraw  three  souls  out  of  one  weaver.  In  Much  Ado, 
ii.  3.  61,  62,  Benedick  says, '  Is  it  not  strange  that  sheeps'  guts  should  hale 
souls  out  of  men's  bodies  ? '  and  to  this  power  of  music  Shakespeare 
again  refers ;  but  that  he  had  in  his  mind  the  three  souls  given  to  man  by 
the  peripatetic  philosophers,  the  vegetative  or  plastic,  the  animal,  and 
the  rational,  as  Hishop  Warburton  suggests,  is  open  to  serious  doubt. 
To  draw  three  souls  out  of  one  starved  weaver  can  be  nothing  more  than 
a  humorously  exaggerated  consequence  of  the  power  exerted  by  music, 
and  to  bring  about  this  by  a  drinking  song  was  a  greater  triumph  still, 
for  weavers  were  giveit  to  psalms.  Compare  1  Henry  I\',  ii.  4.  147  :  'I 
would  I  were  a  weaver;  I  could  sing  psalms  or  anything.'  See  also  Ben 
Jonson,  The  Silent  Woman,  iii.  2:  'He  got  this  cold  with  sitting  up 
late,  and  singing  catches  with  cloth-workers.' 

.^9,  60.  /aw  tlog  at  a  catch.  Compare  Two  Gentlemen  of  Verona,  iv. 
4.  14:  'To  be,  as  it  were,  a  dog  at  all  things,'  that  is,  good  at  ever) - 


no  NOTES.  [actii. 

thing.  Again,  Nash,  Have  with  you  to  Saffron  Waldon  (ed.  Grosart), 
Ep.  Ded.  p.  8 :  'O,  he  hath  been  olde  dogge  at  that  drunken, staggering 
kinde  of  verse.' 

6i.  Byr  lady,  by  car  lady.     See  Richard  III,  ii.  3.  4. 

63.  Hold  thy  peace,  thou  knave,  &c.  '  A  catch,'  says  Sir  John  Hawkins, 
'  is  a  species  of  vocal  harmony  to  be  sung  by  three  or  more  persons  ;  and 
is  so  contrived,  that  though  each  sings  precisely  the  same  notes  as  his 
fellows,  yet  by  beginning  at  stated  periods  of  time  from  each  other,  there 
results  from  the  performance  a  harmony  of  as  many  parts  as  there  are 
singers.'  'The  catch,'  he  adds,  'to  be  sung  by  Sir  Toby,  Sir  Andrew, 
and  the  Clown,  from  the  hints  given  of  it,  appears  to  be  so  contrived 
as  that  each  of  the  singers  calls  the  other  knave  in  turn.'  He  gives  the 
notes  of  the  catch  from  a  musical  miscellany  called  Deuteromelia,  pub- 
lished in  1609. 

69.  a  caterwauling,  a  noise  like  the  crying  of  cats.  So  in  Titus 
Andronicus,  iv.  2.  57  : 

'  Why,  what  a  caterwauling  dost  thon  keep  ? ' 

72.  a  Cataia7i,  properly  a  Chinese  or  native  of  Cathay,  appears  like 
his  modern  compatriot  the  heathen  Chinee,  to  have  been  synonymous 
with  a  sharper.  Sir  Toby  is  too  drunk  to  use  his  epithets  appropriately, 
and  his  applying  the  term  '  Catalan '  to  Olivia  is  the  consequence.  It 
occurs  again  in  Merry  Wives,  ii.  i.  148:  'I  will  not  believe  such  a 
Catalan,  though  the  priest  o'  the  town  commended  him  for  a  true  man' ; 
where  the  contrast  with  '  true  man '  shews  that  Catalan  is  equivalent  to 
'  thief.' 

73.  a  Peg  a- Ramsey,  another  term  of  reproach,  borrowed  from  an 
old  song,  perhaps  not  more  approjiriate  as  applied  to  Malvolio.  Mr. 
Chappell  (Popular  Music  of  the  Olden  Time,  p.  218)  informs  us  that 
'  There  are  two  tunes  under  the  name  of  Peg-a-Rn,msey,  and  both  as  old 
as  Shakespeare's  time.  The  first  is  called  Pega-Ramsey  in  William 
Ballet's  Lute  Book,  and  is  given  by  Sir  John  Hawkins  as  the  tune  quoted 
in  Twelfth  Night.  .  .  .  "Little  Pegge  of  Ramsie"  is  one  of  the  tunes  in 
a  manuscript  by  Dr.  Bull,  which  formed  part  of  Dr.  Pepusch's,  and 
afterwards  of  Dr.  Kitchener's,  library.' 

lb.  'Three  merry  men  be  we?  Steevens  quotes  the  earliest  instance  in 
which  the  song  of  which  this  is  the  refrain  occurs,  from  Peek's  Old 
Wives  Tale  (159.^) : 

■  Three  merric  men,  and  three  merrie  men, 

And  three  merrie  men  be  wee : 
I  in  the  wood,  and  thou  on  the  ground, 
And  Jacke  sleepes  in  the  tree.' 
He  also  points  out  that  it  is  repeated  in  Dekkerand  Webster's  Westward 
Ho,  V.  4  (ed.  Dyce,  p.  243),  in  Beaumont  and  Fletcher,  The  Knight  of 


sc   3.]  TWELFTH   MGHT.  1  1  I 

the  IJuming  Pestle,  ii.  5,  The  Bloody  Brother,  iii.  2  ;  and  again  in  the 
old  play  of  Ram  Alley  or  Merry-  Tricks  161 1).  The  tunc  is  i,riven  by 
Mr.  Chappell,  Popular  Music,  &c.,  p.  216. 

74.  TiUy-rally,  an  interjection  expressive  of  good-natured  contempt, 
probably  of  an  ori<,an  similar  to  that  of '  fiddlc-de-dee,'  although  Steevens, 
with  apparent  seriousness,  suggests  that  it  may  be  a  corruption  of  the 
Latin  titivilitium  ;see  Hen  Jonson's  Silent  Woman).  It  is  used  in  a 
slightly  diffeient  form  by  Mistress  Quickly  in  2  HenYy  IV,  ii.  4.  ijo  : 
'  Tilly-fally,  Sir  John,  ne'er  tell  mc  ;  your  ancient  swaggerer  comes  not 
in  my  doors.'  Johnson  tells  us  it  was  frequently  in  the  mouth  of  Sir 
Thomas  More's  lady.  Dibdin,  in  his  introdunion  to  More's  Utopia, 
quotes  two  instances.  After  Sir  Thomas  had  resigned  the  seals,  she  said, 
'  Tillie  vallie,  tillie  vallie,  what  will  you  do,  Mr.  More,  will  you  sit  and 
make  goslings  in  the  ashes  ?  '  And  again  when  in  the  Tower  he  asked, 
'  Is  not  this  house  as  near  heaven  as  mine  own  ? '  she  answered,  after  her 
custom,  '  Tillie  vallie,  tillie  vallie.' 

75.  There  ikuelt  a  matt  in  Babylon,  &c.  From  the  ballad  of  Susanna, 
according  to  Warton,  which  was  licensed  to  T.  Colwell  in  1562,  under 
the  title  of  The  godly  and  constante  wyfc  Susanna.  See  Arber's  Tran- 
script of  the  Stationers'  Registers,  i.  210.  A  copy  is  preserved  in  the 
Pepysian  Collection.  The  same  burden, '  Lady,  lady,'  occurs  in  a  ballad 
printed  in  Ancient  13allads  and  Broadsides  1  Lilly,  1S67),  p.  30,  and  in 
the  interlude  of  the  Trial  of  Treasure  (iSf^?),  quoted  in  the  notes  to  the 
same  volume.  Another  example  is  found  in  Twenty-five  Old  Ballads 
and  Songs,  from  MSS.  in  the  jiossession  of  J.  Pajne  Collier,  iS6y,  p.  19. 

77.  Beshrcw  me,  literally,  may  mischief  befall  me,  was  used  merely 
as  a  strong  asseveration,  as  similar  e.xpressions  are  still  by  persons 
whose  vocabulary  is  limited.    See  note  on  A  Midsununcr  Kight's  Dream, 

ii.  2.  54. 

78.  disposed,  used  absolutely,  signifies,  in  the  humour  for  mirth.     So 

in  Love's  Labour  's  Lost,  v.  i.  465  : 

'The  trick 

To  make  my  lady  laugh  when  she's  disposed.' 

81.  twelfth,  spelt  ■  twelfe'  in  the  folios.     So  the  title  of  the  play  is 

'  Twelfe  Night.'     0  the  tivelfth  day  of  December  is  probably  the  first 

line  of  a  popular  ballad  commemorating  some  public  event,  jierhaps  a 

victory,  as  the  ballad  of  Brave  Lord  Willoughby  begins,  'The  fifteenth 

day  of  July.'     Sidney  Walker  proposed  to  read  '  O'  the  twelfth  day,'  &c. 

85.  tinkers,  who  were  proverbially  given  to  tippling,  Christopher  Sly 
being  an  eminent  example.  Compare  i  Henry  IV,  ii.  4.  20 :  '  To  con- 
clude, I  am  so  good  a  proficient  in  one  quarter  of  an  hour,  that  I  can 
drink  with  any  tinker  in  his  own  language  during  my  life.' 

86.  eoziers'  catches.    Minsheu.  in  The  Guide  into  Tongues  (161 7),  has. 


112  NOTES.  [acth. 

'  A  Cosier  or  sowter,  from  the  Spanish  word  roscr,   i.  to  sew.     Vide 
Botcher,  Souter,  or  Cobler.' 

89.  Sneck  up !  A  contemptuous  expression  of  dismissal,  equivalent  to 
'  go  and  be  hanged ! '  Compare  Heywood,  Fair  Maid  of  the  West 
(Works,  ii.  268) : 

'  I  Draw.    Besse,  you  must  fill  some  wine  into  the  Portcullis,  the 
Gentlemen  there  will  drinke  none  but  of  your  drawing. 

Spenc.  She  shall  not  rise  sir,  goe,  let  your  Master  snick-up. 
I  Draw.  And  that  should  be  cousin-german  to  the  hick-up.' 
And  Porter,  Two  Angrie  Women  of  Abington  (p.  8,  ed.  Dyce,  Percy 
Society) :  '  And  his  men  be  good  fellowes,  so  it  is :  if  they  be  not,  let 
them  goe  sneik  vp.'  Steevens  quotes  Beaumont  and  Fletcher,  The  Knight 
of  the  Burning  Pestle,  ii.  2  :  'No,  Michael,  let  thy  father  go  snick-up'; 
and  iii.  2  :  '  Give  him  his  money,  George,  and  let  him  go  snick-up.'  In 
his  note  on  the  former  of  these  passages  Weber  quoted  the  foUoM'ing 
lines  of  Taylor  the  Water  Poet,  from  his  poem  In  Praise  of  Hempseed 
(Spenser  Society's  Reprint,  p.  552)  : 

'To  end  this  matter,  thus  much  I  assure  you, 
A  Tiburne  Hempen-caudell  well  will  cure  you. 
It  can  cure  Traytors,  but  I  hold  it  fit 
T'apply  't  ere  they  the  treason  doe  commit : 
Whersfore  in  Sparta  it  ycleped  was, 
Snickup,  which  is  in  English  Gallow-grasse.' 
This  quotation  justifies  the  identification  of  'Snick  uji'  with  '  Go  hang.' 

90.  roiDui,  plainspoken,  straightforward.  So  in  Henry  V,  iv.  i.  216: 
'  Your  reproof  is  something  too  round.'     And  Hamlet,  iii.  1.  191  : 

'  Let  her  be  round  with  him.' 
Again  in  Bacon,  Essay  i.  p-  3  :   '  It  will  be  acknowledged,  even  by  those, 
ihat  practise  it  not,  that  cleare  and  Round  dealing  is  the  Honour  of  Mans 
Nature.' 

i^d..  Farewell,  dear  heart,  &c.  From  Corydon's  Farewell  to  Phillis, 
printed  by  Percy  in  his  Reliques  (vol.  i.  p.  222,  ed.  1857)  ^'"0'^  The 
Golden  Garland  of  Princely  Delights.  It  was  first  published  in  1601  in 
a  Booke  of  Ayres  composed  by  Robert  Jones  (HalliwcU-Phillipps,  Out- 
lines of  the  Life  of  Shakespear,  4th  ed.  p.  26S).  The  fragments  sung  by 
Sir  Toby  and  the  Clown  are  from  the  same,  or  a  slightly  different  version. 

107.  tunc.     Theobald  changed  this  to  "time,'  10  make  it  agree  with 

1.  89. 

109.  Cakes  and  ale,  such  as  it  was  the  custom  to  have  on  the  festivals 
of  the  Church,  of  which  Malvolio  as  a  Puritan  would  disapprove.  In 
Ben  Jonson's  Bartholomew  P'air,  i.  i  (quoted  by  Knight),  Rabbi  Zeal-of- 
the-I-and  Busy  is  described  as  a  baker  of  Banbury  wlio  had  given  over 
ills  trade  '  out  of  a  scruple  he  took,  that,  in  spiced  conscience,  those  cakes 


sc.  3.]  TWELFTH   SIGHT.  II3 

he  maile.  weic  scrveil  to  bridals,  maypoles,  raorrices,  and  such  profane 
feasts  and  meetings.* 

110.  Sain!  Anne.  Christopher  Sly  swears  also  by  Saint  Anne, 
Taming  of  the  Shrew,  i.  i.  255. 

1 1 2.  your  i/iiiin,  the  steward's  badge  of  office.  Steevens  illustrates 
this  and  the  rubbing  with  crums  by  one  very  apt  quotation  from  Webster's 
Duchess  of  Malfi  [iii.  j]  : 

'  Fourth  off.  Well,  let  him  go. 
First  off.  Yes,  and  the  chippings  of  the  buttery  fly  after  him,  to 
scour  his  gold  chain.' 
Compare  also  the  old  play  of  Sir  Thomas  More  (Shakespeare  Society 
ed.).  p.  42  :  '  If  I  doe  not  deserve  a  share  for  playing  of  yout  lordship 
well,  lelt  me  be  yeoman  vsher  to  your  sumpter,  and  be  banished  from 
wearing  of  a  gold  chaine  for  ever.'  Again,  in  Decker's  CIull's  Horn- 
book, c.  7  (ed.  Nott,  p.  152) :  'Some  austere  and  sullen-faced  steward, 
who,  in  despite  of  a  great  beard,  a  satin  suit,  and  a  chain  of  gold  wrapt 
in  Cyprus,  proclaims  himself  to  any,  but  to  those  to  whom  his  lord  owes 
money,  for  a  rank  coxcomb.'  Other  instances  occur  in  Ben  Jonson's 
Every  Man  out  of  his  Humour,  i.  i ;  Beaumont  and  Fletcher's  Lover's 
Progress  i.  i,  and  Love's  Cure,  i.  2;  and  Middleton's  A  Mad  World 
my  Masters,  ii.  i  (vol.  ii.  p.  347,  ed.  Dyce. 

113.  a  stoup.     See  1.  13.     In  the  folios  it  is  here  spelt  '  slope.' 

116.  uncivil,  disorderly,   unmannerly.      So   in   Two   Gentlemen   of 

X'erona,  v.  4.  17: 

'  Yet  I  have  much  to  do 
To  keep  them  from  uncivil  outrages.' 
lb.  rule,  conduct,  behaviour,  course  of  proceeding.     Steevens  quotes 
irom  Ben  Jonson's  Tale  of  a  Tub  [iv.  5]  : 

'  Let  them  go 
Into  the  bam  with  warrant,  seize  the  fiend. 
And  set  him  in  the  stocks  for  his  ill  rule.' 
And  from  Drayton,  Polyolbion  xxvii.  [251]  : 

'Cast  in  a  gallant  round  .ibout  the  hearth  they  go, 
And  at  each  pause  they  kiss,  was  never  seen  such  rule 
In  any  place  but  here,  at  bonfire,  or  at  yule.' 
The  compound  'misrule'  is  familiar. 
lb.  by  this  hand.     See  i.  3.  32. 

117.  shake  your  ears,  like  a  helpless  ass.  Compare  Julius  CoE.-sar,  iv. 
I.  26: 

'  And  havmg  brought  our  treasure  where  we  will. 
Then  take  we  down  his  load,  and  turn  him  off, 
Like  to  the  empty  .-us,  to  shake  his  ears, 
And  graze  in  commons.' 

I 


1J4  NOTES.  [act  ii. 

1 1 8.  as  good  a  deed  as  to  drink.  Compare  i  Henry  IV,  ii.  i.  32,  33  : 
'  An  'twere  not  as  good  a  deed  as  drink,  to  break  the  pate  on  thee,  I  am 
a  very  villain.' 

1 1 9.  a-hungyy.  This  rustic  form  is  used  by  Master  Slender  in  the 
Merry  Wives,  i.  i.  280  :  '  I  am  not  a-hungry,  I  thank  you,  forsooth.' 
And  Coriolanus,  i.  1.  209,  imitating  the  populace,  says,  '  They  said  they 
were  an-hungry.'     Compare  '  a-cold.' 

lb.  to  challenge  him  the  field,  that  is,  to  single  combat.  Rowe  in  his 
second  edition  printed  '  to  the  field,'  and  he  has  been  followed  by  most 
modern  editors.     Ur.  Schmidt  proposes  'to  field.' 

1 20.  gitll,  deceive,  dupe.  A  '  gull '  is  originally  a  callow  or  unfledged 
bird  ;  and  hence,  one  who  is  easily  imposed  upon,  a  dupe  or  fool.  See 
note  on  Richard  III,  i.  3.  328.  The  word  occurs  as  a  verb  in  Henry  V, 
ii.  2.  121  : 

'  If  that  same  demon  that  hath  guU'd  thee  thus.* 
lb.  a  nayword.  In  the  Merry  Wives,  ii.  2.  131,  a  'nay  word'  is 
used  for  a  password  :  '  In  any  case  have  a  nay-word,  that  you  may  know 
one  another's  mind,  and  the  boy  never  need  to  understand  anything.' 
And  again  v.  2.  5  :  '  We  have  a  nay-word  how  to  know  one  another.' 
Possibly  a  'nay-word'  may  have  been  a  word  which  had  no  meaning  to 
anyone  but  the  persons  using  it.  In  the  present  passage  Rowe  substi- 
tuted 'a  nayword'  for  'an  ayword'  of  the  folios,  understanding  by  it 
ajijiarently  'a  byword.'  Forby  records  'nayword'  among  the  provin- 
cialisms of  East  Anglia,  and  it  is  included  by  Canon  Forman  in  his 
Upton  on  Severn  Words  and  Phrases  (luiglish  Dialect  Soc). 

I2y.  J'ossess  us,  inform  us,  tell  us  all  about  it.  Compare  Troilus  and 
Cressida,  iv.  4.  114  : 

'  At  the  port,  lord,  I'll  give  her  to  thy  hand  ; 
And  by  the  way  possess  thee  what  she  is.' 
131.  Sir  Andrew  anticipates  The  Shortest  Way  with  the  Dissenters. 

136.  constantly,  consistently. 

137.  a  tiine-pleaser,  a  time-server.     Compare  Coriolanus,  iii.  i-  45: 
'  Scandal'd  the  suppliants  of  the  people,  call'd  them 

Time-pleasers,  flatterers,  foes  to  nobleness.' 
//'.  affectioncd,   affected,    full  of  affectation.     In    Hamlet   ii.  2.  464, 
'nor  no  matter  in  the  phrase  that  might  indite  the  owner  of  affectation,' 
is  the  reading  of  the  folios,  while  the  quartos  have  'affection.'     Com- 
pare Love's  Labour 's  Lost,  v.  i .  4  :   '  Witty  without  affection  ' ;  which  is 
the  reading  of  the  first  folio,  changed  in  the  later  editions  to  'affectation.' 
lb.  cons,  learns  by  heart,  as  an  actor  his  part.    A  word  of  the  theatre, 
as  '  without  book  '  that  follows.     See  Romeo  and  Juliet,  i.  4.  6  : 
'  \or  no  without-book  prologue,  faintly  spoke 
After  the  prompter.' 


50.3-]  TWELFTH    SIGHT.  1  15 

In  1^  Jonson's  Every  Mail  out  of  his  Humour  il  is  said  in  the 
(icj.oription  of  Shift,  '  He  waylays  the  reports  of  services,  and  cons  them 
without  book.'  For  '  cons  state  without  book '  it  has  been  proposed 
to  read  '  cons  stale  wit  out  of  books.'  But  Malvolio's  affectation  was 
not  wii,  but  deportment. 

138.  utters  it,  gives  it  out  to  the  public,  delivers  it,  both  in  words 
and  actions. 

//'.  suurtJts.  A  swarth,  or  more  properly  'swath,'  is  as  much  grass 
as  a  mower  can  cut  with  one  sweep  of  his  scythe.  See  Troilus  and 
Cressida,  v.  ;.  J5  : 

'  And  there  the  strawy  Greeks,  ripe  for  his  edge. 
Fall  down  before  him,  like  the  mower's  swath.' 
The  sj)elliiig  'swarth'  indicates  the  pronunciation. 

13S,  139,  best  persuaded,  having  the  Ixist  opinion. 

1 40.  grounds  in  the  first  folio,  changed  in  the  second  to  'ground,' 
unnecessarily. 

141 .  expressure,  expression.  Compare  Troilus  and  Cressida,  iii.  3. 204 ; 

'  Which  hath  an  operation  more  divine 
Than  breath  or  pen  can  give  expressure  to.' 
So  '  impressure '  for  '  impression,'  ii.  5.  86. 

156.  a  horse  of  that  colour.  '  Colour  '  is  here  used  for  kind,  sort,  as 
in  As  You  Like  It,  i.  2.  107  :  '  Sport  1  of  what  colour  V '  and  iii.  2.  435  : 
'  As  boys  and  women  are  for  the  most  part  cattle  of  this  colour.' 

157.  And  your  horse,  &c  Tyrwhitt  thought  this  speech  argued  too 
great  quickness  of  wit  in  Sir  Andrew,  and  should  be  given  to  Sir  Toby. 
The  mistake  in  assigning  it  might  easily  have  arisen  from  the  first  word 
'  and  '  being  supposed  to  indicate  the  speaker. 

158.  Ass.  A  similar  play  on  'As'  and  'Ass'  is  found  in  Hamlet, 
V.  a.43: 

'  And  many  such-hke  '  As'es  of  great  charge.' 

165.  Penthenlea,  the  Amazon  queen  ;  another  jest  at  Maria's  small 
stature.     See  i.  5.  193. 

166.  Before  me,  a  petty  oath,  is  substituted  for  the  more  profane 
'  Before  God  '  which  is  found  in  Henry  V,  v.  2.  148.  Compare  Uthello, 
iv.  1.  149  :  'Before  me  1  look,  where  she  comes.'  So  we  find  in  Romeo 
and  Juliet,  ii.  4.  170:  'Afore  God  !'  and  in  iii.  4.  34:  'Afore  me!'  See 
note  on  Coriolanus,  i.  1.  11.^  vGlarendon  Press  ed.  . 

168.  what  o  that  I  no  matter.  See  iii.  4.  21,  and  A  Midsummer 
Night's  Dream,  i.  i.  2.'is  : 

'  Through  Athens  I  am  thought  as  lair  as  she. 
But  what  of  that  V ' 
171.  recover,  get,    attain   to;   not   necessarily  to  get   again   a   thing 
which  has  been  lost.     Comjjare  The  Tempest,  iii.  2.  lO  :  "1  bwam,  ere 

I  2 


T  l6  NOTES.  [act  n. 

I  could  recover  the  shore,  five  and  thirty  leagues  off  and  on.'     And  The 
Two  Gentlemen  of  \'erona,  v.  i .  12: 

'  Fear  not :    the  forest  is  not  three  leagues  oft' ; 
If  we  recover  that,  we  are  sure  enough.' 

173.  out  of  my  reckoning. 

175.  ca//  me  cut.  A  curtal  horse  was  a  horse  whose  tail  had  been 
docked,  as  a  curtal  or  curtail  dog  was  one  who  had  been  treated  in  a 
similar  manner  :  and  as  from  the  latter  the  abbreviation  '  cur  '  came  to 
be  used  as  a  term  of  contempt,  so  '  cut '  from  '  curtal '  was  employed  in 
the  same  way.  Thus  in  the  play  of  Sir  Thomas  More  (p.  52,  ed.  DycCj 
Shakespeare  Soc.) :  '  Haue  the  Fates  playd  the  fooles?  am  I  theire 
cutt?'  Compare  The  London  Prodigal  (p.  477,  ed.  1780),  one  of 
the  plays  falsely  attributed  to  Shakespeare  :  '  An  I  do  not  meet  him, 
chill  give  you  leave  to  call  me  cut.'  And  Heywood,  If  you  know  not 
me,  you  know  no  body  (Works,  i.  256) :  'And  I  do  not  show  you  the 
right  trick  of  a  cosin  afore  I  leaue  England,  lie  gius  you  leaue  to  call 
me  Cut.'     Further,  see  Ben  Jonson,  A  Tale  of  a  Tub,  iv.  1 : 

'  If  I  prove  not 
As  just  a  carrier  as  my  friend  Tom  Long  was, 
Then  call  me  his  curtal.' 
Again,  Falstaff  says,  1  Henry  IV,  ii.  4.  2 1 5  :  'I  tell  thee  what,  Hal,  if 
I  tell  thee  a  lie,  s]nt  in  my  face,  call  me  horse.'     The  phrase  'cut  and 
long-tail,'  which  is  used  to  denote  all  of  every  sort  (Merry  Wives,  iii.  4. 
47),   shews  that   Steevens's  ex{)lanation  of  'cut'  by   'gelding'  is  not 
correct.     '  Cut '  is  the  name  of  the  carrier's  horse  in  i  Henry  IV,  ii.  i .  7. 

1 78.  burn  some  sack.  Mulled  or  burnt  sack  was  a  favourite  drink  in 
Shakespeare's  time.  See  The  Merry  Wives  of  Windsor,  ii.  1.  223  :  'I'll 
give  you  a  pottle  of  burnt  sack  to  give  me  recourse  to  him  and  tell  him 
my  name  is  Brook.'  For  'sack,'  see  note  on  The  Tempest,  ii.  2.  no 
(Clarendon  Press  ed.).  The  derivation  of  the  word  is  no  doubt  from 
sec,  dry ;  not  because  sac  was  a  dry  wine  in  the  modem  sense  of  the 
word,  but  because  it  was  made  of  grapes  which  in  a  very  hot  summer 
were  dried  almost  to  raisins  by  the  sun,  and  so  contained  a  large 
quantity  of  sugar. 

Sc&tie  IV. 
3.  but,  only. 

3.  antique,  in  the  first  folio  '  Anticke,'  has  the  accent  on  the  first 
syllable  as  always  in  Shakespeare.     Compare  Sonnet  .xvii.  12  : 
'  And  your  tme  rights  be  term'd  a  poet's  rage 
And  Stretched  metre  of  an  antique  song.' 
Here   it   has   the   sense  of  old-fashioned,  quaint,   but   not   necessarily 
fantastic  or  grotesque. 


sc.  4-]  TWETFTH    SIGHT.  W] 

4.  passion,  suffering,  grief;  used  of  strong  emotion  of  any  kind. 
Compare  The  Temjiest,  i.  2.  392  : 

'  Allaying  both  their  fury  and  my  passion 
With  its  sweet  air." 

5.  recollected  terms,  phrases  gathered  with  pains,  not  spontaneous. 
Knight  proposed  to  read  '  tnnes'  for  'terms,'  but  we  have  already  had 
the  '  tunes'  in  the  '  airs,'  and  the  '  terms'  must  therefore  be  the  words  set 
to  music.  So  '  festival  terms,'  in  Much  Ado,  v.  2.  41,  are  '  holiday 
phrases.'     Compare  Love's  Labour  's  Lost,  v.  2.  406  : 

'  Taffeta  phrases,  silken  terms  precise.' 
Johnson  explains  'recollected'  by  '  recalled,'  '  repeated,'  in  reference  to 
'  the  practice  of  composers,  who  often  prolong  the  song  by  repetitions.' 
But  the  sense  given  above  is  confirmed  by  a  passage  in  Pericles,  ii.  1 .  54  "• 
'  How  from  the  finny  subject  of  the  sea 
These  fishers  tell  the  infirmities  of  men  ; 
And  from  their  water}'  empire  recollect 
All  that  may  men  approve  or  men  detect ! ' 
18.  motions,   emotions,   feelings.      Compare   Measure   for   Measure, 
i.  4.  59: 

'  The  wanton  stings  and  motions  of  the  sense.' 
And  Hamlet,  iii.  4.  72  : 

'  Sense,  sure,  you  have, 
Else  could  you  not  have  motion.' 

21,  2  2.  the  scat  ll'/'icrc  Love  is  throiicJ,  the  heart.     See  i.  i.  38. 

22.  masterly,  skilfully,  like  a  master  in  the  art  of  love. 

24.  favour,  countenance.  See  iii.  4.  312,  364,  and  As  You  Like  It, 
V.  4.  27: 

'  I  do  remember  in  this  shepherd  boy 
Some  lively  touches  of  my  daughter's  favour.' 

25.  l>y  your  favour.  Viola  u.-^s  'favour'  in  a  sense  of  her  own, 
without  betraying  her  secret  to  the  Duke. 

29.  let  still  the  woman  take,  &c.  Shakespeare  is  supposed  by  Malonc 
to  be  speaking  from  his  own  experience ;  but  he  was  seldom  autobio- 
graphic, and  did  not  wear  his  heart  upon  his  sleeve. 

30.  so  wears  she  to  him,  grows  fitted  to  him  by  use  like  a  garment. 
Compare  Macbeth,  i.  3.  143  : 

'  New  honours  come  upon  him, 
Like  our  strange  garments,  cleave  not  to  their  mould, 
But  with  the  aid  of  use.' 

31.  so  s'ways  she  level,  exercises  an  evenly  balanced  influence. 
34.  worn,  worn  out,  effaced.     See  2  Henry  VI,  ii,  4.  69  : 

'These  few  days'  wonder  will  be  quickly  worn.' 
Hanmer  unnecessarily  substituted  '  won,'  which  would  have  no  meaning 


Il8  NOTES.  [actii. 

here,  although  the  misprint  of 'worn'  for '  won '  occurs  in  The  Merchant 
of  Venice,  i.  3.  45,  where  the  folios  read  'well-worn  thrift'  for  'well- 
won  thrift.' 

37.  ho/J  the  be7tt,  keep  true  to  its  aim,  preserve  its  original  inclina- 
tion. Compare  Much  Ado,  ii.  3.  232:  'It  seems  her  affections  have 
their  full  bent ' ;  that  is,  are  allowed  freely  to  obey  their  impulse. 

45.  the  free  maids.  'Free'  must  mean  here  'free  from  care,'  care- 
less, happy.  '  Fair  and  free,'  as  Warton  points  out  in  his  notes  to 
Milton's  L'Allegro,  are  frequently  coupled  together  in  the  metrical 
romances  as  epithets  for  a  lady.     So  in  Syr  Eglamour, 

'  The  erles  daughter  fair  and  free.' 
In  these  and  similar  instances  '  free '  denotes  one  of  gentle  or  noble 
birth.  See  i.  5.  245.  Thus  in  the  Romance  of  Sir  Perceval  of  Galles 
(Thornton  Romances,  Camden  Soc),  521,  we  find  'Percyvelle  the 
free';  and  in  Robert  of  Gloucester's  Chronicle  (ed.  Heame),  p.  420, 
Henry  I  is  described  as 

'  Of  fayrost  fourme  and  maners  and  mest  gentyl  and  fre.' 
lb.  that  weave  their  thread  with  bones,  describes  the  lacemakers  who 
formerly  used  bones  for  pins  in  setting  out  the  pattern  of  their  work. 
In  Beaumont  and  Fletcher's  Scornful  Lady,  v.  2,  among  the  accomplish- 
ments of  a  good  housewife  it  is  said,  '  She  cuts  cambric  at  a  thread, 
weaves  bone  lace,  and  quilts  balls.' 

46.  silly  sooth,  simple  truth.  For  'silly'  in  this  sense  compare 
Cymbeline,  v.  3.  86: 

'  There  was  a  fourth  man,  in  a  silly  habit, 
That  gave  the  affront  with  them.' 
'  Sooth '  (A.-S.  s69,  truth)  occurs  in  Macbeth,  i.  2.  36 :  '  If  I  say  sooth ' ; 
and  v.  5.  40  :  'If  thy  speech  be  sooth.'     See  ii.  3.  20. 

47.  dallies,  sports,  plays,  trifles.     vSee  iii.  i.  14. 

48.  the  old  age,  the  former  time,  which  was  always  better  than  the 
present.     Compare  Sonnet,  cxxvii.  i  : 

'  In  the  old  age  black  was  not  counted  fair.' 

50.  Ay  ;  prithee.     The  folios  have,  '  I  prethee.' 

51-66.  As  the  song  can  hardly  be  said  to  dally  with  the  innocence  of 
love,  Staunton  conjectured  that  it  was  '  an  interpolation  and  not  the 
original  song  intended  by  the  poet.'  It  may  be  that  in  such  cases  the 
song  varied  with  the  capacity  of  the  actor. 

52.  in  sad  cyp]  CSS,  that  is,  either  in  a  coffin  of  cypress  wood  or  on  a 
bier  strewn  with  branches  or  garlands  of  cypress.  Warton  suggested 
that  by  '  cypress '  was  meant  a  shroud  of  cypress  or  crape  (see  iii.  i.  iiq); 
but  Malone  maintnined  that  by  '  cypress '  the  tree  and  not  the  fine  linen 
was  intended,  because  a  line  or  two  further  on  we  find  that  the  shroud 
is  described  as  '  white,'  and  although  there  is  both  black  and  white 


sc.  4-]  TWELFTH   XTGHT.  1  I9 

crape,  the  epithet  •  sad  '  is  inappropriate  to  the  latter.     '  Sad  cypress '  is 
of  course  the  conventional  phrase  for  the  tree  which  played  an  important 
part  in  all  funerals.     Kor  instance,  Drummond  (Part  i.  Sonnet,  ao) : 
'  Of  weeping  myrrh  the  crown  is  which  I  crave, 
With  a  sad  cypress  to  adorn  my  grave.' 
.•\nd  Cowley,  On  the  death  of  Mr.  William  Harvey,  ix.  5 : 
'  Instead  of  bays,  crown  with  sad  cyjircss  me ; 
Cypress  !   which  tombs  doth  beautify.' 
As  an  instance  of  a  coffin  of  cypress  wood,  Malone  refers  to  the  funeral 
of  Kol)ert  de  Vere,  the  favourite  of  Richard  II,  who  died  at  Louvain, 
and  was  brought  to  England  by  order  of  the  king,  who  caused  •  the 
CofTeii  of  Cipres.  wherein  his  body  being  embalmed  lay  to  be  ojiened. 
y'  he  might  behold  his  face,  and  touch  him  with  his  fingers.'     ;Slow's 
Annals,  p.  518,  ed.  1580.) 

53.  Fly  away,  fly  away.  Kowe's  correction  of  the  reading  of  the 
folios,  '  Fye  (or  Fie)  away,  fie  away.' 

57,  58.  My  part  .  .  .  share  it  Johnson  explains, '  Though  death  is  a 
part  in  which  every  one  acts  his  share,  yet  of  all  these  actors  no  one  is 
so  true  as  I.' 

72.  Give  me  now  leave  to  leave  thee.  A  courteous  form  of  dismissal. 
When  Henry  says  to  Worcester  (i  Henry  IV,  i.  .',.  2o\  '  You  have  good 
leave  to  leave  us,'  it  amounts  to  a  command  to  withdraw. 

7.V  the  melancholy  gotl.     Milton  invents  a  pedigree  for  Melancholy 
L' Allegro,  2    as  the  child  of  Cerberus  and  Midnight. 

74.  changeable  taffeta,  a  kind  of  shot  silk.  liuloet  (Abcedarium) 
gives,  '  Chaungeable  colour,  discolor,  versicolor.'  Compare  Lyly, 
Euphues  (ed.  Arber),  p.  80  :  '  You  have  giuen  vnto  rne  a  true  louers 
knot  wrought  of  chaungeable  Silke.'  Taffeta,  or  Taffata,  which  is  the* 
spelling  of  the  folios,  was  originally  any  kind  of  plain  silk,  but  it  now 
denotes  many  other  varieties  The  word  is  said  to  be  Persian  in  origin, 
from  tiijtah,  woven,  which  is  the  participle  oi  til/taii,  to  intertwine.  It 
appears  in  French  as  taffetas,  in  Italian  as  taffetto,  and  in  Spanish  as 
tafetan.     In  Chaucer  iC.  T.  4.52)  the  Doctor  of  i'hysic's  robe  was 

'  Lyned  with  taffata  and  with  sendal.' 
The   earliest   example    given    by   Littre    (Dictionnaire   dc   la    Langue 
I'ranfaise)  is  of  the  15  th  century:  '  Une  piece  de  taffetas  changeanl  de 
Levant.' 

/■;.  a  very  opal,  which  in  various  lights  shews  various  colours. 

lb.  of  such  constancy.  One  of  the  symptoms  of  tho-e  affected  by 
melancholy,  according  to  Hurton  '^ Anatomy  of  Melancholy,  Part  i. 
Sec.  3,  Mem.  i.  Subs.  2).  is  inconstancy:  '  Inconstant  they  are  in  all 
their  actions,  vertiginous,  restless,  unapt  to  resolve  of  any  business  ;  they 
will  and  will  not,  perswaded  to  and  fro  upon  every  small  occasion,  or 


1 20  NOTES.  [act  u, 

word  spoken ;  .  .  .  soon  weary,  and  still  seeking  change  ;  restless,  I  say, 
fickle,  fugitive,  they  may  not  abide  to  tarry  in  one  place  long.' 
77.  iiitent,  aim,  bent,     So  in  Lucrece,  46  : 

'  With  swift  intent  he  goes 
To  quench  the  coal  which  in  his  liver  glows.' 

79.  give  place,  withdraw.     Compare  Richard  II,  v.  5.  95  : 

'  Fellow,  give  place ;   here  is  no  longer  stay.' 

80.  yond,  yonder.     See  i.  5.  131. 
lb.  c7-uelty.     See  i.  5.  273. 

82.  dirty  lands.  Like  Osric,  in  Hamlet,  Olivia  was  'spacious  in  the 
possession  of  dirt.' 

84.  giddily,  carelessly,  negligently. 

85.  tliat  miracle  and  queen  of  gems,  her  beauty. 

86.  That  nature  pranks  her  in,  in  which  nature  decks  her.  For '  pranks,' 
which  is  now  used  in  a  disparaging  sense,  compare  Winter's  Tale,  iv.  4.  i  o : 

'  Your  high  self. 
The  gracious  mark  o'  the  land,  you  have  obscured 
With  a  swain's  wearing,  and  me,  poor  lowly  maid, 
Most  goddes.'i-like  prank'd  up.' 
See  note  on  Coriolanus,  iii.  i.  23. 

88.  /,  Hanmer's  reading.  The  folios  have  '  It,'  which  may  be  taken 
loosely  to  signify  '  My  suit.'  But  as  Viola  replies  '  Sooth,  but  yoii 
must,'  and  afterivards  says  '  must  she  not  then  be  answer'd  ? '  Hanmer's 
correction  is  probably  right. 

93.  There  is  occurs  sometimes  when  followed  by  a  plural.  See  iii.  i. 
49   and  The  Tempest,  i.  2.  47S  : 

'  Thou  think'st  there  is  no  more  such  shapes  as  he.' 
96.  retention,  the  power  of  retaining.     See  Sonnet,  cxxii.  9 : 
'  That  poor  retention  could  not  so  much  hold.' 

98.  ^notion.     Seel.  18. 

lb.  the  liver,  which  was  thought  to  be  the  seat  of  the  emotions. 
Compare  The  Tempest,  iv.  i.  56: 

'  The  white  cold  virgin  snow  upon  my  heart 
Abates  the  ardour  of  my  liver.' 

99.  cloyment,  cloying.  Apparently  a  word  of  Shakespeare's  own 
coinage. 

100.  as  Iitingry  as  the  sea.     Steevens  compares  Coriolanus,  v.  3.  58  : 

'  Then  let  the  pebbles  on  the  hungry  beach 
Fillip  the  stars.' 
loi.  rw;//«;Y,  comparison ;   a  substantive  formed  from  a  verb.     See 
A  Midsummer  Night's  Dream,  iii.  2.  290: 

'  Now  I  perceive  that  she  hath  made  compare 
Between  our  statures.' 


sc.  4.]  TU'FLFTII  NIGHT.  1  1 1 

107.  a  daiis^fiter  [who]  loved,  &c.     For  the  omission  of  the  relative, 
compare  The  Merchant  of  Venice,  i.  i.  J'-, : 

'  1  have  a  mind  ]iresages  me  such  thrift.' 
And  Abbott,  Shakespeare  t'liammar,  j  244. 

1 10.  she  never  told  her  love.  Coleridge  says,  '  After  the  first  line,  (of 
which  the  last  five  words  should  be  spoken  with,  and  drop  down  in  a 
deep  sigh)  the  actress  ou^^ht  to  make  a  pause ;  and  then  start  afresh, 
from  the  activity  of  tliought,  bom  of  suppressed  feelings.'  And  this  is 
the  way  in  which.  Lamb  tells  us,  Mrs.  Jordan,  who  had  probably  never 
heard  of  Coleridge,  used  to  deliver  the  si^eech. 
I.I  2.  thought,  sorrow.     See  Hamlet,  iv.  5.  i88  : 

'  Thought  and  affliction,  passion,  hell  itself. 
She  turns  to  favour  and  to  prettiness.' 

113.  a  green  and  yello-M  melancholy .     Compare  Hamlet,  iii.  i.  85  : 

'  Sicklied  o'er  with  the  pale  cast  of  thought.' 

114.  like  patietice  on  a   mominienl.     Theobald  compares  Pericles, 
v.  I.  139: 

'  Yet  thou  dost  look 
Like  Patience  gazing  on  kings'  graves,  and  smiling 
Extremity  out  of  act.' 
He  suggests  that  Shakespeare  may  have  taken  the  idea  from  Chaucer's 
Assembly  of  Fowls,  242  : 

'  Dame  Pacience.  sitting  there  I  fonde 
With  face  pale,  upon  an  hill  of  sonde.' 
lint  he  may  very  well  have  seen  some  such  emblematical  figure  on  a 
funeral  monument,  or  he  may  even  have  imagined  it,  as  he  was  not 
wanting  in  imagination.  Malone  held,  rather  doubtfully,  that  Patience 
and  Grief  were  two  figures  on  the  same  monument,  but  if  there  be  any 
virtue  in  capitals  and  commas,  the  first  folio  does  not  favour  this  view, 
for  the  passage  is  there  printed, 

'  She  sate  like  Patience  on  a  Monument, 
.Smiling  at  greefe ' ; 
so  that  •  >nuling'  refcre  to  'She  '  and  not  to  '  Patience,'  and  the  whole 
is  a  figure  of  silent  resignation. 

115.  grief  \s  here  rather  suffering  than  sorrow. 

12  3.  Shall  I  to  this  lady  f      The   verb   of  motion  is    omitted,    as 
commonly.     .See  i.  5.  1 79. 

124.  denay,  denial.    The  same  word  appears  as  a  verb  in  2  Henry  VI, 

i.  3    107: 

'  Then  let  him  tx;  denay'd   the  regentship. 

The  form  of  the  word  in  Old  French  is  denoi  or  desnoi. 


133  NOTES.  [act  n. 


Scene  V. 

1.  Come  thy  ways,  come  along.  See  note  on  The  Tempest,  ii.  2.  76 
(Clarendon  Press  ed.),  and  As  You  Like  It,  ii.  3.  66  :  '  But  come  thy 
ways.'     'Ways'  is  here  the  old  genitive  used  adverbially. 

2.  a  scruple,  the  least  bit,  a  scruple  being  the  smallest  subdivision  in 
apothecaries'  weight.     Compare  Much  Ado,  v.  t.  93  : 

'  What,  man  1    I  know  them,  yea, 
And  what  they  weigh,  even  to  the  utmost  spruple.' 

5.  sheep-biter,  a  term  of  reproach,  taken  from  a  vicious  dog.'  It 
usually  denotes  a  niggard.  .So  in  Dekker,  The  Honest  Whore  (Works, 
ii.  121):  '  A  poore  man  has  but  one  Ewe,  and  this  Grandy  Sheepe- 
biter  leaues  whole  Flockes  of  fat  Weathers  (whom  he  may  knocke 
downe),  to  deuoure  this.' 

10.  it  is  pity  of  our  lives.  Compare  A  Midsummer  Night's  Dream, 
iii.  I.  44  (39,  Clarendon  Press  ed.),  'If  you  think  I  come  hither  like  a 
lion,  it  were  pity  of  my  life.'     See  note  on  this  passage. 

12.  7>iy  metal  of  India,  as  good  as  gold.  The  first  folio  has  'my 
Mettle  of  India.'  In  the  second  folio  this  is  changed  to  '  my  Nettle  of 
India,'  which  Steevens  adopts  and  explains  as  a  zoophyte,  called  the 
Urtica  Marina,  abounding  in  the  Indian  seas.  Malone  very  properly 
restored  the  reading  of  the  first  folio. 

17.  Close,  keep  close  or  secret,  stand  concealed. 

19.  the  trout,  Sec.  Steevens  quotes  from  Cogan's  Haven  of  Health 
(ir9.S):  'This  fish  of  nature  loveth  flatterie:  for,  being  in  the  water, 
it  will  suffer  itsclfe  to  be  rubbed  and  clawed,  and  so  to  be  taken.'  Com- 
pare Beaumont  and  Fletcher,  Scornful  Lady,  iii.  2 : 

'  Leave  off  your  tickling  of  young  heirs  like  trouts.' 

21.  affect,  incline  to,  love.  Compare  Lear,  i.  t.  i  :  'I  thought  the 
king  had  more  affected  the  Duke  of  Albany  than  Cornwall.' 

21,  22.  come  thus  near,  go  so  far  towards  admitting  her  passion. 

22.  fancy,  love.  It  is  used  again  absolutely  in  Troilus  and  Cressida, 
V.  2.  165: 

'  Never  did  young  man  fancy 
With  so  eternal  and  so  fix'd  a  soul.' 

28.  jets,  struts  with  head  erect.     Compare  Cymbeline,  iii.  3.  5  : 

'  The  gates  of  monarchs 
Are  arch'd  so  high  that  giants  may  jet  through 
And  keep  their  impious  turbans  on.' 
Il>.  advanced,  uplifted.     See  King  John,  ii.  i.  207: 

'These  flags  of  France,  that  are  advanced  here.' 

29.  'Slight,  a  contraction  for  'God's  light'  (see  2  Henry  IV,  ii.  4. 


sc.  5-]  TWELFTH    NIGHT.  123 

143),  occurs  again  iii.  2.  1 2.     So  '  'Sblood'  for  'Go'l's  blood,' '  'Zounds' 
for '  God's  wounds,'  '  'Snails'  for  '  God's  nails,'  &c. 

.^o,  .^4.  These  speeches  are  more  appropriate  to  Fabian  than  to  Sir 
Toby." 

35.  Stroihy.  The  solution  of  the  mystery  contained  in  this  name 
probably  lies  hid  in  some  forgotten  novel  or  play.  The  incident  of  a 
lady  of  high  rank  marrying  a  servant  is  the  subject  of  Webster's  Duchess 
of  Malti,  who  married  the  steward  of  her  household,  and  would  thus 
have  supplied  Malvolio  with  the  exact  jiarallel  to  his  own  case  of  which 
he  was  in  search.  In  default  of  any  satisfactory  explanation  of  'Strachy,' 
which  is  printed  in  the  folios  as  a  proper  name  in  italics  with  a  capital 
S,  it  has  been  proposed  to  substitute  for  it  Stratarch  ^Hanmer",  Trachy 
(_Warburton\  Trachyne  (,Capell),  Straccio  (Smith),  Starchy  Steevens), 
Stratico  (Payne  Knight),  Astrakhan  (C.  Knight),  Strozzi  (Collier), 
Stracce  (Lloyd),  Duchy  (Bailey),  Tragedy  (Bulloch),  County  >Kinnear), 
besides  Sophy,  Saucery,  or  Satrape  which  arc  of  unknown  origin.  Of 
these  it  may  be  said  that  whichever  is  right  that  of  Steevens  must  be  wrong. 

36.  the  yeoman  of  the  -wardrobe.  Malone  quotes  from  Florio,  A 
\\  orlde  of  Wordes,  '  Vestiario, ...  a  wardrobe  keeper,  or  a  yeoman  of  a 
wardrobe.' 

37.  Jezebel.  Sir  Andrew,  if  he  intends  this  for  Malvolio,  makes 
rather  a  random  shot. 

39.  blows  him,  puffs  him  up,  swells  him.  Compare  Antony  and 
Cleopatra,  iv.  6.  34  :   '  This  blows  my  heart.' 

41.  my  state,  my  chair  of  state,  which  was  a  chair  with  a  canopy 
over  it.  Compare  Macbeth,  iii.  4.  5:  'Our  hostess  keeps  her  state.' 
And  Coriolanus,  v.  4.  22  :  'lie  sits  in  his  state,  as  a  thing  made  for 
Alexander.'  The  'state'  was  properly  the  canopy  itself.  See  notes 
on  Macbeth  (Clarendon  Press  ed.),  and  Milton,  Paradise  Lost,  x.  415  : 

'  Invisible 
Ascended  his  high  throne,  which,  under  state 
Of  richest  texture  spread,  at  the  upper  end 
Was  placed  in  regal  lustre.' 
4a.  a  stone-bow,  a  cross  bow,  for  shooting  stones.    Compare  Wisdom, 
V.  22  :  '  Anil  hailstones  full  of  wrath  shall  be  cast  as  out  of  a  stone  bow 
(«K   iTfTpo06\ov).'     Cotgrave   (Fr.  Diet)  has,  '  Arbaleste  k  boulet.     A 
Stone-bow.'     See  also  IBeaumont  and  Fletcher,  Philaster,  iv.  2  :   '  He 
shall  shoot  in  a  stone  bow  for  me.' 

43.  braneheil,  ornamented  with  patterns  of  leaves  and  flowers. 
Cotgrave  (Fr.  Diet.)  gives  :  '  Fueillage :  m.  Branched  worke,  in  Painting, 
or  in  Tapistrie.'  And,  '  Velours  figure.  Branched  Veluet.'  Compare 
Ford,  The  Witch  of  P.ldmonton,  iii.  3 : 

'Th'  other's  cloak  branch'd  velvet,  black,  velvet-lin'd  his  suit.' 


1 24  NOTES.  [act  II. 

44.  a  day  bed,  a  couch  or  sofa.  See  Richard  III,  iii.  7.  72,  and 
compare  Heywood,  The  Second  Part  of  the  Iron  Age,  v.  i  (Works, 
iii.  415),  of  Achilles  : 

'  When  from  the  slaughter  of  his  foes  retyr'd 
Hee  doft  his  Gushes  and  vnarm'd  his  head, 
To  tumble  with  her  on  a  soft  day  bed : 
It  did  reioyce  Briseis  to  imbrace 
His  bruised  armes,  and  kisse  his  bloud-stain'd  face.' 

48.  the  htimour  of  state,  the  affectation  or  caprice  of  rank. 

49.  after  a  demure  travel  of  regard,  after  allowing  his  look  to  pass 
gravely  from  one  to  another.  For  '  regard '  in  the  sense  of  '  look,'  see 
below,  1.  62,  and  Measure  for  Measure,  v.  i.  20: 

'Vail  your  regard 
Upon  a  wrong'd,  I  would  fain  have  said,  a  maid ! ' 
Again,  Troilus  and  Cressida,  iii.  3.  255  :  '  Bites  his  lip  with  a  politic 
regard." 

54.  people.     See  i.  5.  97. 

56.  -watch.  Watches  were  known  in  England  as  early  as  the  time  of 
Henry  VIII,  and  were  common  in  Elizabeth's  leign. 

Jl>.  with  my  .  .  .  some  rich  jewel.  Malvolio  is  on  the  point  of  saying 
'with  my  chain,'  his  badge  of  office  (see  ii.  3.  112),  but  he  rem.embers 
himself  in  time  and  substitutes  something  more  appropriate  to  his 
altered  fortunes.  This  is  Dr.  Brinsley  Nicholson's  very  probable  ex- 
planation (New  .Shakspere  Soc.  Trans.  1875-6,  p.  154).  The  first  folio 
has  '  with  my  some  rich  lewell,'  which  Steevens  interprets  '  with  some 
lich  jewel  of  my  own,'  adding  '  He  is  entertaining  himself  with  ideas  of 
future  magnificence.' 

lb.  Toby  approaches.  Malvolio's  'humour  of  state'  begins  to  shew 
itself  in  this  familiarity  with  Sir  Toby's  Christian  name. 

57.  co7irtesies.  To  '  courtesy,'  or  perform  an  act  of  salutation  or 
reverence,  was  used  both  of  men  and  women,  although  it  is  now  restricted 
to  women  only.  Reed  quotes  from  the  Life  of  Lord  Herbert  of  Cher- 
bury  [p.  45],  in  which  dancing  is  recommended  to  a  youth,  '  that  he 
may  learn  to  know  how  to  come  in  and  go  out  of  a  Room  where 
Company  is,  how  to  make  Courtesies  handsomely,  according  to  the 
several  degrees  of  Persons  he  shall  encounter.' 

59.  luith  cars.  Compare,  for  the  idea,  iii.  2.  55,  and  Two  Gentlemen 
of  Verona,  iii.  i.  265  :  '  Yet  1  am  in  love;  but  a  team  of  horse  shall 
not  ])luck  that  from  me.'  Many  commentators  have  regarded  'cars'  as 
a  misprint,  and  have  suggested  '  with  carts  '  (Johnson),  '  by  the  ears ' 
(Hanmer), '  with  cables '  (Tyrwhitt),  '  with  tears '  (.Singer), '  with  racks' 
i.S.  Walker),  'with  cords'  (Grant  White),  'with  cart-ropes'  (Hunter). 
Shakespeare  may  have  read  of  the  fate  of  Mettus  KuffLlius  who  was 


ic.  5-]  TWELFTH   yiGHT.  12 


J 


tom  asunder  by  chariots  lor  treachery  by  the  orders  of  Tullus  llostilius. 
See  Virgil,  .^ji.  viii.  642-5. 

63.  an  austere  regard  of  control,  a  severe  look  of  authority,  to  check 
any  familiar  advances. 

63.  AiXv  you  a  I'lozv.  Compare  Henry  V,  iv.  i.  231  :  'By  this  hand, 
I  will  take  thee  a  box  on  the  ear.' 

69.  scab  !  a  term  of  contempt.  Compare  Merry  Wives,  iv.  2.  195  : 
'  Vou  baggage,  you  j)olecat,  you  rcnyon!'  And  King  John,  ii.  i.  373: 
•  By  heaven,  these  scroyles  of  Angiers  rtout  you,   kings.' 

76.  What  employment  have  we  here?  What's  to  do  here  ?  translated 
into  Malvolio's  higher  style.  Sidney  Walker  suggests  that  •  employ- 
ment' is  a  misprint  for  '  implement.' 

77.  the  woodcock,  being  a  foolish  bird,  is  used  by  Shakespeare  as  an 
emblem  of  stupidity.  See  The  Taming  of  the  Shrew,  i.  2.  161  :  'O  this 
woodcock,  what  an  ass  it  is ! ' 

//'.  gin,  trap  or  snare;  an  abbreviated  form  of  'engine,'  which 
originally  denoted  anything  made  with  skill  (Lat.  ingenium).  So  in 
Chaucer's  Squire's  Tale  ( 10442) : 

•  He  that  it  wrought,  he  cowthe  many  a  gyn ' ; 
that  is,  a  skilful  contrivance.     Compare  Macbeth,  iv.  2.  35  : 
■  Poor  bird !    thou'ldst  never  fear  the  net  nor  lime. 
The  pitfall  nor  the  gin.' 

78.  intimate,  suggest. 

81.  Ritson  supposes  the  superscription  may  have  run  thus:  To  the 
6"nknown  1  elov'd,  this,  and  my  good  wishes,  with  Care  /"resent.* 
If  so,  no  more  needs  be  said  on  the  point ;  but  I  have  grave  doubts 
about  it 

82.  in  contempt  of  i/uestion.  beyond  the  possibility  of  dispute ;  so 
obvious,  that  to  question  it  is  absurd. 

85.  By  your  leave,  wax.  Malvolio  apologizes  to  the  seal  for 
breaking  it.     Compare  Lear,  iv.  6.  264 :  •  Leave,  gentle  wax.' 

86.  Soft!  gently.     As  in  The  Merchant  of  Venice,  iv.  i.  320: 

'  .Soft ! 
The  Jew  shall  have  all  justice  :  soft !    no  haste.' 
Malone  thought  it  referred  to  the  soft  wax  which  was  sometimes  used 
for  sealing. 

87.  ivipressure,  impression.     Compare  As  You  Like  It,  iii.  5.  23  : 

•  I>ean  but  upon  a  rush. 
The  cic.-itrice  and  capable  impressure 
Thy  palm  some  moment  keeps.' 
See  ii.  3.  147,  'expressure'  for  'expression.' 

fb.  her  Lucrece.  whose  head  was  a  favourite  subject  for  cinque-cento 
rings.     An  intaglio  with  the  head  of   Lucrece    is    figxued    iu    (Jori's 


126  NOTES.  I 


ACT  II. 


Museum  Florentinum,  vol.  i.  In  Lord  Londesborough's  collection 
there  is  said  to  be  a  gimmal  ring  with  the  head  of  Lucrece  upon  it  in 
niello,  but  if  the  engraving  given  of  it  (Miscellanea  Graphica,  p.  75) 
is  correct,  it  is  very  doubtful  indeed  whether  it  represents  Lucrece  at  all, 
and  being  in  niello  it  could  not  have  been  used  as  a  signet  ring. 

89 -y 2.   Printed  as  prose  in  the  folios. 

93.  i/w  mimbers,  the  metre  or  versification.  Compare  Hamlet,  ii, 
2.  120:  'O  dear -Ophelia,   I  am  ill  at  these  numbers.' 

95.  brock,  properly  a  badger,  is  used  contemptuously  :  Ritson  says, 
because  the  animal  is  a  stinking  beast.  Malone  thinks  '  brock '  is 
equivalent  to  '  vain,  conceited  coxcomb,'  and  quotes  from  The  Merrie 
Conceited  Jests  of  George  Peele  (Works  of  Greene  and  Peele,  ed.  Dyce, 
p.  616)  :  '  This  self-conceited  brock  had  George  invited,'  &c.  But 
the  epithet  here  supplies  the  sense  which  he  would  attribute  to 
'  brock.' 

99.  doth  sioay  my  life.  The  same  phrase  is  used  seriously  in  As  You 
Like  It,  iii.  2.  4 : 

'Thy  huntress'  name  that  my  full  life  doth  sway.' 

104.  What  dish.  The  modem  reading  is  'What  a  dish,'  but  com- 
pare Richard  IIL  i.  4.  22  : 

'  What  dreadful  noise  of  waters  in  mine  ears ! ' 
And  Julius  Ca:sar,  i.  3.  42  :  '  Cassius,  what  night  is  this  ! ' 

105.  the  staiiicl.  Hanmer  substituted  'staniel,'  the  name  of  an 
inferior  kind  of  hawk,  for  the  reading  of  the  folios  '  stallion,'  which  has 
no  meaning.     It  is  also  called  a  kestrel,  ringtail,  and  windhover. 

lb.  checks,  turns  aside,  like  an  ill-trained  falcon,  from  its  proper 
quarry  in  pursuit  of  some  inferior  game  which  crosses  it  in  its  flight.  See 
iii.  I.  62. 

108.  a;/;'y^;'Wi2/ta/(j:t7Vj/,  any  one  of  a  well-regulated  mind.  Compare 
Antony  and  Cleopatra,  ii.  5.  41  : 

'  Thou  should'st  come  like  a  I'ury  crown'd  with  snakes, 
Not  like  a  formal  man.' 
And  Comedy  of  Errors,  v.  i.  J05  : 

'  Till  I  have  used  the  approved  means  I  have, 
With  wholesome  syrups,  drugs  and  holy  prayers, 
To  make  of  him  a  formal  man  again.' 
lb.  no  obstruction,  nothing  to  cause  a  difficulty. 

112.  make  up  that,  make  that  out. 

lb.  a  cold  scent.     Compare  The  Taming  of  the  Shrew,  Ind.  i.  20  : 
'  Saw'st  thou  not,  boy,  how  Silver  made  it  good 
At  the  hedge-corner,  in  the  coldest  fault?' 

113.  .Sowter,  ])roperly  a  cobbler  or  botcher,  is  a  name  given  in  con- 
tempt to  Malvolio,  as  a  hound  not  of  the  quickest  scent. 


$c.  5-]  TWELFTH    SIGHT.  127 

/i>.  cry  Hpoii  it,  that  i»,  on  recovering  the  scent.  So  in  The  laming 
of  the  Shrew,  Ind.  i.  23  : 

'  He  cried  upon  it  at  the  merest  loss. 
And  twice  today  picked  out  the  dullest  scent." 

1 13,  1 14.  though  it  be  as  rank  as  a  fox.  Hanmer  reads  •  be  n't'  for 
'  be,"  and  Malone  explains  it  '  This  fellow  will,  notwithstanding,  catch 
at  and  be  dnped  by  our  device,  though  the  cheat  is  so  gross  that  any 
one  else  would  find  it  out.'  But  Fabian  s{^)eaks  ironically  ;  '  Malvolio 
will  make  it  out  in  time,  though  it  is  plain  enough.' 

1 1 7.    faults,  where  the  scent  is  defective. 

1 19.  suffers  under  probation,  will  not  endure  e.\amination. 

I  JO.  And  0  shall  end,  when  Malvolio  cries  out  with  vexation.     John 
son  says,  '  By  O  is  meant  what  we  now  call  a  hempen  collar.'     But  the 
jesters  never  intended  to  carry  their  joke  so  far. 

126,  127.  every  one  .  .  .  are.     So  in  Lucrece,  125: 

•  And  every  one  to  rest  themselves  betake.' 

129.  In   my  stars,  in  my  fortunes.     See  i.  3.  120,  and   Hamlet,  ii.  2. 

'  Lord  Hamlet  is  a  prince,  out  of  thy  star,' 
that  is,  above  thee  in  fortune. 

131.  bortt.     So  Kowe,  from  iii  4.  39.     The  folios  have  '  become.' 
lb.  achieve.     The  first  folio  here  has  'atcheeues,'  but  at  iii.  4.  41,  it 

reads '  atchecue." 

132.  blood,  usetl  metaphorically  for  passion,  or  courage  and  high 
temper.     Compare  1  Henry  IV.  iii.  1.  181  : 

'Though  sometimes  it  show  greatjiess.  courage,  blood.' 
And  Hamlet,  iii.  2.  74  : 

■  And  blest  are  those 
Whose  blood  and  judgement  are  so  well  commingled. 
That  they  are  not  a  pipe  for  fortune's  finger 
To  sound  what  stop  she  please.' 
1 34.  cast  thy  humble  slough,  as  a  snake  casts  its  skin  and  comes  out 
in  bright  colours.     Compare  Henry  V.  iv.  i .  23  : 

•  With  casted  slough  and  fresh  legerity.' 
.\nd  2  Henry  VI,  iii.  1.  730: 

'  Or  as  the  snake  rolld  in  a  flowering  bank. 
With  shining  chccker'd  slough,  doth  sting  a  child, 
That  for  the  beauty  thinks  it  excellent.' 
'3.'i-  opposite  with,  hostile  or  contradictory  to.     So  in   Richard  HI. 
ii.  2.  94: 

•  Much  more  to  be  thus  oj^posile  with  heaven. 
For  it  requires  the  royal  debt  it  lent  you* 
//;.  a  kinsman,  so  as  to  L'affle  Sir  Toby,  as  Malvolio  interprets  it. 


128  NOTES.  [act  II. 

//>.  surly  zuitli  servants,  as  some  think  it  fine  manners  to  be. 

136.  tang,  twang,  sound  loudly.     In  iii.  4.  66,  the  reading  is  'tang 
with,'  which  Hanmer  substituted  here.     The  word  '  tang'  appears  lobe 
used  of  a  loud  dominant  sound.     See  Fletcher's  Night  Walker,  iii.  4  : 
'  'Tis  a  strange  noise  !  and  has  a  tang  o'  the  justice.' 

Ih.  the  trick  of  singularity,  the  affectation  of  being  eccentric,  which 
has  before  this  done, duty  for  originality.  Compare  Winter's  Tale,  iv. 
4.  778:  'He  seems  to  be  the  more  noble  in  being  fantastical:  a  great 
man,  Til  warrant.' 

138.  yelloiv  stockings  were  apparently  a  common  article  of  dress  in 
the  i6th  century,  and  the  tradition  of  wearing  them  survives  in  the 
costume  of  the  boys  at  Christ's  Hospital.  They  had  apparently  gone 
out  of  fashion  in  Sir  Thomas  Overbury's  time,  for  in  his  Characters  he 
says  of  'A  Country  Gentleman,'  '  If  he  goes  to  Court,  it  is  in  yellow 
stockings ' ;  as  if  this  were  a  sign  of  rusticity.  From  Goldwell  s  account 
of  the  entertainment  given  to  the  French  Ambassadors  in  1581,  Steevens 
found  that '  the  yeomen  attending  the  Earl  of  Arundel,  Lord  Windsor, 
and  Mr.  Fulke  Greville  .  .  .  were  dressed  in  yellow  worsted  stock- 
ings.' They  appear  to  have  been  especially  worn  by  the  young,  if 
any  importance  is  to  be  attached  to  the  burden  of  a  song  set  to 
the  tune  of  Peg  a  Ramsey  (Chappell,  Popular  Music  of  the  Olden  Time, 
p.  2 1 8),  in  which  a  married  man  laments  the  freedom  of  his  bachelor 
days  : 

'Give  me  my  yellow  hose  again. 
Give  me  my  yellow  hose.' 
Malvolio  may  have  affected  youthful  fashions  in  dress 

139.  cross-gartered,  not  like  a  stage  bandit,  but  wearing  the  gaiters 
both  above  and  below  the  knee,  so  as  to  be  crossed  at  the  back  of 
t'ne  leg.  There  are  frequent  references  to  this  fashion.  Nares  quotes 
Beaumont  &  Fletcher's  Woman  Hater  (1607),  i.  2  : 

•  All  short-cloak'd  knights,  and  all  cross-garter'd  gentlemen ; 
All  pump  and  pantofle,  foot-cloth  riders ; 
With  all  the  swarming  generation 

Of  long  stocks,  short-pain'd  hose,  and  huge-stuff'd  doublets.' 
And   Steevens   refers  to    Field's   play,   A  Woman   is  a  Weathercock, 
[iv.  2]  : 

•  'Tis  not  thy  leg,  no    were  it  twice  as  good. 
Throws  me  into  this  melancholy  mood  ; 
Yet  let  me  say  and  swear,  in  a  cross-garter 
Paul's  never  sliow'd  to  eyes  a  lovelier  quarter.' 
When  Ford  wrote  his  Lover's  Melancholy  (i628\  'cross-garters'  were 
apparently  becoming  obsolete.     The  third  act  opens  with  the  following 
dialogue : 


»c.  5.1  TWELFTH   NIGHT.  I  29 

'  Cui.  Do  I  not  look  freshly,  nnil  like  a  youth  of  the  trim? 
Gril.  As  rare  an  old  youth  as  ever  walktd  cross-jjartercd.' 
Stcevens  quotes  •^ome  lines  of  Barton  I  lolyday's  to  prove  that  the 
I'liritans  affecteil  cross<,Mrtcrin{j,  and  as  MaUolio  was  susjiectcd  ol 
I'urilajiisni,  it  is  thought  that  his  cross-gartcriiij^  may  have  been  on,-  of 
the  symptoms.  Hut  Ilolyday  is  speakinij  of  the  ill-success  of  his  play 
called  Tcchnot;amia,  which  was  printed  in  i^>iS,  or  sixteen  years  after 
Twcllth  Nijjhl  was  acted.     The  linca  arc  as  follows : 

*  Had  there  apf)ear'd  some  sharp  cross-garter'd  man. 
Whom  their  loud  laugh  might  nickname  Purit.Tn  ; 
Cas'd  up  in  factious  breeches,  and  small  rutTe  ; 
That  hates  the  surplice,  and  defies  the  cnffe. 
Then."  &c. 
The  Puritans  would  naturally  be  in  the  rearward  of  the  fashion,  and 
would  go  cross-gartered  long  after  every  one  else  had  ceased  to  do  so. 
.\nd  it  by  no  means  follows,  because  'cross-gartered'  was  an  appropriate 
epithet  for  a  Puritan  some  fifteen  or  twenty  years  later,  that  Shakespeare 
intended  -Malvolio's  Puritanism  (which  afier  all  had  its  existence  only 
on  Maria's  sharp  tongue'l,  to  show  itself  in  this  manner.     Douce  (Illus- 
trations of  Shakespeare)  quotes  from  Porter's  Two  Angrie  Women  of 
Abington,  1599  [p.  25.  ed.  Dyce.  Percy  Society]  : 

'  He  tell  thee,  sirra,  hees  a  fine  neat  fellow, 
A  spruce  slane ;    I  warrant  yee,  heele  haue 
I  lis  cruell   garters  crosse  about   the  knee.' 
In  Higins's  English  Translation  of  Junius'  Nomenclator,  ed.  I'leming, 
1585  [p.  16S],  also  quoted  by  Douce,  Fasciae  cruruUs  vel  cniralcs  are 
ilefined  as  ■  Hose  garters  going  acrosse  or  ouerthwart,  both   aboue  and 
beneath  the  knee.'     On  the  other  hand.  Geuualia  are  '  garters  to  tye 
vnder  the  knee.'     Sir  Thomas  Overbury,  when  he  wrote  his  Character  of 
a  Fiiotman  (1614),  had  probably  Malvolio  in  his  mind:    '  Gards  hee 
weares   none;    which  makes  him  live  more  upright  than  any  crosse- 
gartered  gentleman-usher.'    (Works,  ed.  Rimbault,  p.  114.) 

140.  thou  art  made,  thy  fortune  is  made.  Compare  .\  Midsummer 
Night's  Dream,  iv.  2.  18:  '  If  our  spon  had  gone  forward,  we  had  all 
been  made  men.'     And  Othello,  i.  2.  51  : 

•  If  it  prove  lawful  prize,  he's  made  for  ever.' 
145.  Daylight  and  chavtpain,  broad  daylight  and  an  open  country, 
the  most  favourable  circumstances  for  a  clear  view.  The  folios  read 
'champian,'  which  is  the  spelling  of  the  word  in  the  margin  of  the 
Authorised  Version  of  Ezekiel,  xxxvii.  2.  But  in  I  car,  i.  1.  Tn,  th<-  first 
folio  has, 

'  With  shadowie  Forrests,  and  with  Champains  rich'd.' 
14').  politic  authors,  who  write  of  state  policy. 

K 


130  NOTES.  [act  n. 

147.  />otn(  devise,  precisely,  exactly.  The  full  phrase  was  'at 
point  devise,'  •which  we  find  in  Chaucer,  Cant.  Tales  i_ed.  Tyrwhilt}, 

3689 : 

'  Up  rist  this  jolly  lover  Absolon, 

And  him  arayeth  gay,  at  point  devise.' 
And  10874  '■ 

'  So  painted  he  and  kempt,  at  point  devise, 
As  wel  his  wordes,  as  his  contenance.' 
Again,  in  The  Romaunt  of  the  Rose,  S30  : 

'  With  limmes  wrought  at  point  devise.' 
And  1 2 1 5 : 

'  Her  nose  was  wrought  at  point  devise.' 
Professor  Skeat  (Etym.  Diet.)  regards  it  as  a  translation  of  the  French 
apohit  devis,  but  in  the  last-quoted  passages  there  is  nothing  correspond- 
ing in  the  F"rench  Roman  de  la  Rose.  Steevens,  by  printing  the  word 
in  the  form  '  point-de-vice,'  suggested  another  etymology  which  appears 
to  have  no  authority.  Shakespeare  uses  'point-device,'  or  'point-de\'ise,' 
as  an  adjective,  in  the  sense  of  '  precise,'  in  As  You  Like  It,  iii.  2.  401  : 
'  You  are  rather  point-device  in  your  accoutrements.'  And  Love's 
Labour's  Lost,  v.  i.  21  :  'I  abhor  such  fanatical  phantasimes,  such  in- 
sociable  and  point-devise  companions.' 

lb.  the  very  man  described  in  the  letter. 

149.  jade  me,  treat  me  like  a  jade,  run  away  with  me. 

154.  strange,  'opposite  with  a  kinsman.' 

lb.  stout,  '  surly  with  servants,'  stiff  and  haughty  in  manner.  See 
2  Henry  VL  i-  i.  187. 

'As  stout  and  proud  as  he  were  lord  of  all.' 

158.  cannot  choose  but  know,  cannot  help  knowing.  So  in  Merry 
Wives,  v.  3. 18 :  '  That  cannot  choose  but  amaze  him.'  And  2  Henry  IV, 
iii.  2.  221:  'Nay,  she  must  be  old;  she  cannot  choose  but  be  old; 
certain  she's  old.' 

161.  dear  my  sweet.  Compare  'dear  my  lord,'  Julius  Caesar,  ii.  i. 
255,  and  Abbott,  Shakespeare  Grammar,  §  13.     See  i.  5.  57. 

1G4,  165.  a  pension  of  thousands  to  be  paid  fro77i  the  Sophy.  See 
Merchant  of  Venice,  ii.  i.  25.  The  title  Sophy,  by  which  the  Shah  o( 
Persia  was  most  commonly  known  in  the  1 6th  and  1 7th  centuries,  was 
derived  from  the  Safavi  dynasty,  founded  in  1500  by  Shah  Ismail,  whose 
descendants  occupied  the  thionc  till  1 736,  when  the  power  was  seized  by 
Nadir  Shah.  The  attention  of  ]''nglishmen  had  been  attracted  to  Persia, 
at  the  beginning  of  the  1  7th  century,  by  the  adventures  of  three  brothers, 
Sir  Robert,  Sir  Anthony,  and  Sir  Thomas  Shirley,  whose  account  of  their 
travels  and  reception  by  the  Sophy  was  printed  in  1600.  A  play  on  the 
same  subject  by  John  Day  appeared  in  1607.    In  161 1  Sir  Robert  Shirley, 


K.  5-]  TWELFTH   NIGHT.  I3T 

who  married  a  Persian  lady.,  came  to  ICngland  with  his  wife,  as  am- 
bassador from  the  Sophy. 

171.  »oi>/e,  used  ironically,  somewhat  as  in  A  Midsummer  Night's 
Dream,  v.  i.  220:  '  Here  come  two  noble  Iieasts  in,  a  man  and  a  lion.' 
And  As  You  Like  It,  ii.  7.  3.^  :  •  O  noble  fool ! ' 

174.  tray-trip,  a  common  game,  of  which  little  more  is  known  than 
that  it  was  played  with  dice,  and  that  it  depended  on  throwing  a  trey, 
as  appears  from  the  following  passage  quotccl  by  Reed  from  a  Satire 
published  in  1619,  called  .M.achiavell's  I>ogge: 

'  But  leaving  cardes,  lett  's  goe  to  dice  awhile. 
To  passage,  treitrippe,  hazarde,  or  mumchance. 


And  trippe  without  a  treye  makes  had  I  wist 
To  sitt  and  moume  among  the  sleepers'  ranke.' 
Taylor  the  Water  Poet,  in  his  Motto  (Works,  p   3 1 4,  Spenser  Soc.  ed.), 
mentions  it  with  other  games  of  the  same  kind  : 
'  The  Prodigalls  estate,  like  to  a  flux. 
The  Mercer,   Draper,  and  the  .Silkman  sucks  : 
The  Taylor,  Millainer,  Dogs,  Drabs  and  Dice, 
Trey-trip,  or  Passage,   or  The  most  at  thrice.' 
Tyrwhitt  conjectured  that  it  was  the  name  of  some  game  at  tables,  or 
draughts;   and  quoted  from  Cecil's  Correspondence,  Lett.  x.    p.   127 
(ed.  Dalr)-mple,  Edin.  1766),  the  following  passage  in  support  of  his 
conjecture  :  '  There  is  great  danger  of  being  taken  sleepers  at  tray- 
trip,  if  the  king  sweep  suddenly."     But  it  could  not  have  been  the  game 
of  tables,  that  is,  backgammon,  or  draughts  as  now  played.     Torriano 
(Italian  Dictionary.   1656),  gives  '  Giocare  al  nove,  to  play  at  noven, 
or   tray-trip,  also   to    play  at    nine-holes.'     There   appears   to   be   no 
ground  for  the   assertion  of  Hawkins   that    it  was  a  game  like  hop- 
scotch, which  coul^  hardly  be   played    by  watchmen  at   night,   as   in 
Glapthome's  Wit  in  a  Constable,  v.  1  (Works,  i.  p.  227) : 

'  Meane  time  you  may  play  at 
Tray  trip,  or  cockall  for  blacke  puddings.' 
175.  boud-slavc,   slave;   an    intermediate    form    of  the   word.      See 
I  Maccabees,  ii.  1 1  :  '  Of  a  free  woman  she  is  become   a  bond-slave." 
And  Richard  II,  ii.  i.  114: 

'  Thy  state  of  law  is  bondslave  to  the  law.' 
I  So.  aqita-vitx,  now  more  familiar  in  its  French  form,  eau  de  vie. 
Cotgrave  (Fr.  Diet.)  gives.  '  I-^au  de  vie.    Aquauite.' 

1 86.  cuidicted  to,  devoted  to,  given  up  to.  It  is  now  generally  used 
in  connexion  with  some  bad  habit,  but  this  is  a  modem  sense,  for  it  is 
said  with  praise  of  the  house  of  .Stcph.nnas  (i  Cor.  xvi.  15^  that  they 
had  •  addicted  themselves  to  the  ministry  of  the  saints.' 

K    2 


1.32  NOTES.  [act  in, 

i88.   Tartar,  Tnrtarus,  the   infernal   regions.     See    Henry  V,  ii.  2. 
123: 

'  He  might  return  to  vasty  Tartar  back.' 
And  Comedy  of  Errors,  iv.  2.  32  : 

'  No,  he's  in  Tartar  limbo,  worse  than  hell.' 


ACT   HI. 
Scene  I. 

In  the  stage  direction,  '  with  a  tabor  '  was  added  by  Malone. 

1.  Save  thee,  that  is,  God  save  thee. 

2.  by  thy  tabor.  There  is  no  reason  to  suppose  with  Steevens  that 
there  is  any  reference  to  a  music-shop  with  a  sign  of  the  tabor,  or  with 
Malone  that  an  imaginary  eating-house  kept  by  Tarleton  the  jester  is 
hinted  at.  The  tabor  was  commonly  used  by  the  professional  clown, 
and  Tarleton  himself  appears  with  one  in  a  rude  woodcut  prefixed  to 
his- Jests,  printed  in  161 1.  The  play  upon  the  two  senses  of 'by'  is 
obvious  enough. 

4.  a  churchman,  an  ecclesiastic.  Bacon  says  (Essay  viii.  p.  27,  ed. 
Wright),  '  A  Single  Life  doth  well  with  Church  men  :  For  Charity  will 
hardly  water  the  Ground,  where  it  must  first  fill  a  Poole.' 

8.  lies,  lodges  or  dwells.  The  joke  here  is  of  the  same  kind  as  the 
previous  one. 

\2.  a  chcveHl glove,  a  kid  glove  ;  Fr.  chevreaii,  a  kid.  In  Sherwood's 
English  French  Dictionary  (1632),  we  find,  'Chcuerell  lether.  Cuir 
de  chevreul.'  It  was  very  soft  and  easily  stretched.  Hence  in  Romeo 
and  Juliet,  ii.  4.  87  :  '  O,  here's  a  wit  of  cheveril,  that  stretches  from 
an  inch  narrow  to  an  ell  broad!'  Again,  in  Florio's  Montaigne,  p.  614 
(ed.  1603) ;  '  The  poore  seelie  three  Divels  are  no\y  in  prison,  and  may 
happily  e're  long  pay  deere  for  their  common  sottishnesse ;  and  I  wot 
not  whether  some  cheverell  judge  or  other,  will  be  avenged  of  them  for 
his.' 

33.  pilchards.  Spelt  '  pilchers '  in  the  folios.  But  the  spelling 
varied  even  in  Shakespeare's  time.  In  Minsheu's  Spanish  Dictionary 
(1599)  we  find,  'Sardina,  a  little  pilchard,  a  sardine';  and  also,  'a 
Pilcher,  vide  Sardina.'  So  again  in  Florio's  Worlde  of  Wordes  (T598), 
'  Sardella,  a  little  pickled  or  salt  fish  like  an  anchoua,  a  sprat  or  a 
pilcher,  called  a  sardell  or  sardine';  while  in  his  Italian  Dictionary 
(1611),  and  in  Cotgrave's  French  Dictionary  of  the  same  date,  the 
spelling  is  '  pilchard." 

37,  38.  does  walk  .  .  .  evcryrvhcre.  Dyce  punctuates,  unnecessarily, 
'  does  walk  about  the  orb  ;  like  the  sun,  it  shines  everywhere.' 


sc.  I.]  TWELFTH   NIGHT.  I33 

39.  but  =  \i .  .  .  not. 

41.  an  thou  pass  upon  me.  The  clown  being  by  profession  a  coi* 
rupter  of  words  tried  some  of  his  word  fencing  upon  Viola ;  and  to  this 
she  seems  to  refer  when  she  uses  the  expression  '  pass  upon  ' ;  to  pass 
signifying  to  make  a  pass  in  fencing,  and  such  word-play  being  else- 
where called  'a  quick  venue  of  wit '  (Love's  Labour's  Lost,  v.  j.  62). 
but  to  •  pass  upon '  had  aUo  the  meaning,  '  to  impose  on,  play  the  fool 
with.'  as  in  v.  i .  340,  and  it  may  be  so  here. 

42.  expenses,  money  to  spend. 

43.  commodily.  The  modem  mercantile  phrase  would  probably 
be  'cargo'  or  'consignment.'  See  i  Henry  IV,  i.  :.  93 :  '  1  would  to 
God  thou  and  I  knew  where  a  commodity  of  good  names  were  to  be 
bought.'  And  the  old  play  of  Sir  Thomas  More  (etl.  Dyce)  p.  63 : 
'What  will  he  be  by  that  time  he  comes  to  the  commoditie  of  a  bearde?' 

46.  though  .  .  .  skill.     These  words  are  evidently  spoken  aside. 
4S.  have  bred.     Compare   the  Merchant   of  Venice,  i.  3.    135:   'A 
breed  for  barren  meial ' ;  and  Venus  and  Adonis,  768  : 

'  Foul-cankering  rust  the  hidden  treasure  frets, 
l!ut  gold  that's  put  to  use  more  gold  begets.' 
49.  use,  interest.     See  Much  Ado,  ii.  i.  2S6 :  'Indeed,  my  lord,  he 
lent  it  me  awhile ;  and  I  gave  him  use  for  it.' 

54.  Cressida  was  a  beggar.  Both  Theobald  and  Capell  pointed  out 
that  Shakespeare  had  in  mind  The  Testament  of  Cresseid,  once  attributed 
to  Chaucer,  but  really  the  work  of  Robert  Henryson.  Another  remin- 
iscence of  it  occurs  in  Henry  V,ii.  i.So:  'The  lazar  kite  of  Cressid's  kind.' 
In  the  Testament  .llenryson's  Works,  ed.  Laing,  p.  80),  after  Cressida 
was  abandoned  by  Diomed,  Saturn  pronounces  sentence  upon  her : 

'  And  greil  pennrilie 
Thow  suffer  sail,  and  as  ane  beggar  die.' 
And  again  (p.  87) : 

'This  sail  thow  go  begging  fra  hous  to  hous. 
With  cop  and  clapper  lyke  ane  lazarous.' 

55.  constriu,  e.xplain,  interpret.     Spelt  'conster'  in  the  folios. 

56.  welkin,  the  sky  or  region  of  clouds.  See  ii.  2.  56,  and  A  Midsummer 
Night's  Dream,  iii.  2.  356. 

lb.  element,  being  sometimes  used  for  'sky,'  the  clown  makc-s 
'  welkin  '  synonjinous  with  it,  to  avoid  the  more  familiar  word.  See 
iii.  4.  117. 

•^7.  ove>-u.'orn,  wo.-^n  out  by  lime  or  use.  Compare  Venus  and 
Adonis,  806  : 

'Musing  the  morning  is  so  much  o'erwom.* 
Gerard   in  his   Ilerball  (ir';7  j   ""'1^'    ^''>-"  ^^^'^   '^^  .Scoq)ion   grasse,' 
p.  2O7,  says,  'There  is  likewise  another  sort  .  .  .  called  Myosotis  scor- 


134 


NOTES.  '  [act  III. 


pioides,  with  rough  and  hairie  leaues,  of  an  ouerwome  russet  colour.' 
And  Nashe,  in  his  description  of  Yarmouth  (Lenten  Stuffe,  p.  8),  speaks 
of  'the  decrcpite  ouerwome  village  now  called  Gorlstone.'  Again  in 
Holland's  Plutarch,  p.  57  :  '  With  some  thin  mantell  and  ouerwome 
gaberdine  cast  ouer  him.' 

62.  Ami  like   the   haggard,   &c.     Johnson  explains,  'The  meaning 
may  be,   tliat   he  mu'it  catch  every  opportunity,   as   the   wild   hawk 
strikes  every  bird.'     But  he  suggests  that  it  may  be  read  more  properly, 
'  Not,  like  the  haggard.'     The  text  however  appears  to  be  right.     It 
is  part  of  the  fool's  wisdom  to  make  a  jest  of  everything,  because  in 
that  case  hisjests  will  not  appear  to  be  directed  at  any  particular  person, 
but  will  be  thought  to  be  only  '  the  squandering  glances  of  the  fool.' 
lb.  haggard,  an  untamed,  untrained  hawk.    See  Much  Ado,  iii.  i.  56  : 
'  I  know  her  spirits  are  as  coy  and  wild 
As  haggards  of  the  rock.' 
And  The  Taming  of  the  Shrew,  iv.  i.  i()'S  : 

'Another  way  I  have  to  man  my  haggard. 
To  make  her  come  and  know  her  keeper's  call.' 
lb.  checks.     See  ii.  5.  105. 

66.  But  wise  men,  folly-fair n,  quite  taint  their  wit.  See  i.  5.  29-33. 
A  fool  may,  without  inconsistency,  shew  wisdom  in  displaying  his 
folly,  his  reputation  for  folly  not  being  affected  by  it ;  but  when  wise 
men  talk  folly  it  discredits  their  character  for  wisdom.  Compare 
Love's  Labour's  Lost,  v.  2.  75-78  : 

'Lolly  in  fools  bears  not  so  strong  a  note 
As  foolery  in  the  wise,  when  wit  doth  dote; 
Since  all  the  power  thereof  it  doth  apply 
To  prove,  by  wit,  worth  in  simplicity.' 
The  reading  here  adopted   is  that   of  Theobald   and  Tyrwhitt,  who 
suggested  it  in  place  of  what  stands  in  tlie  first  folio  : 

'  But  wiscmens  folly  falne,  quite  taint  their  wit.' 

Compare  Lear,  i.  i.  151  : 

'  To  plainness  honour's  bound, 

When  majesty  falls  to  folly.' 
67-71.  In  this  dialogue  Theobald   makes  the   two   knights  change 
places,  because  in  the  first  Act  Sir  Andrew  has  so  little  French  as  not 
to  know  the  meaning  oi poiirquoi. 

72.  encounter.   Sir  Toby  is  as  great  a  corrupter  of  words  as  the  Clown. 

73.  troiie,    business  ;    as    in    Hamlet,   iii.    2.    346  :    '  Have  you    any 
further  trade  with  us?  ' 

74.  bound.     See  ii.  i.  8. 

75.  list,  end,  limit,  bound.      Viola  falls  in  with  Sir  Toby's  humour 
in  playing  upon  the  meanings  of  '  list '  and  '  bound.'     The  latter  has 


SCI.]  TWELFTH  NIGHT.  135 

nothing  to  do  with  '  bind,'  and  should  properly  be  spelt  '  boun,'  which 
is  the  old  form  of  the  word.  For  the  meaning  of  '  list,'  see  i  Henry  IV, 
iv.  1 .  5 1  : 

'  The  very  list,  the  ver^'  utmost  bound 
Of  all  our  fortunes.' 
And  compare  Othello,  v.  2.  267,  8  ; 

'  Here  is  my  butt. 
And  very  seamark  of  my  utmost  sail.' 
76.    Taste,  try ;  in  Sir  Toby's  dialect.    See  iii.  4.  J33,  and  i  Henry  IV, 
iv.  I.  119:  'Let  me  taste  my  horse.' 

81.  prcvinUJ,  anticipated.   Compare  The  Merchant  of  Venice,  i.  i.  61  : 
'  I  would  have  stay'd  till  I  had  made  you  merry. 
If  worthier  friends  had  i.ot  prevented  me.' 
87.  freptant.     See  ii.  2.  26. 

89.  all  ready.  So  Malone.  The  first  and  second  folios  have 
'  already,'  the  third  and  fourth  '  ready.' 

97.  lowly  feipiiiig,  an  affectation  of  humility. 

104.  by  your  leave,  pardon  me.     See  ii.  5.  85. 

107.  to  soliiit.     See  i.  5.  .283.     So  in  Comedy  of  Errors,  v.  i.  ^5  : 
'  Who  heard  me  to  deny  it  or  forswear  it  ? ' 

105.  music  from  the  spheres.  For  other  references  to  the  Pythagorean 
doctrine  of  the  harmony  of  the  spheres,  see  As  You  Like  It,  ii.  7.  6, 
and  The  Merchant  of  Venice,  v.  i.  60-65.  ^^^  passage  in  Milton's 
Arcades,  63-73,  is  directly  taken  from  Plato's  Republic,  x.  14.  Milton 
himself  wiote  an  academical  Essay,  De  Sphararum  Concent u,  which  is 
printed  among  his  prose  works.     See  also  Paradise  Lost,  v.  625. 

109.  beseech  you.  The  second  and  third  folios  unnecessaiily  insert 
'  I,'  but  it  is  commonly  omitted,  as  in  The  Tempest,  ii.  i.  i  :  '  Beseech 
you,  sir,  be  merry.' 

III.  abuse,  misuse  by  deceiving;  not  restricted  as  now  to  language 
only.     See  v.  i.  18. 

1 1 5.  might  is  here  equivalent  to  '  could,'  as  '  may '  is  sometimes 
used  for  'can.'     Compare  A  Midsummer  Night's  Dream,  v.  1.2: 

*  I  never  may  believe 
These  antique  fables.' 

And  Hamlet,  i.  i.  56 : 

•  I  might  not  this  believe 
Without  the  sensible  and  true  avouch 
Of  mine  own  eyes.' 

118.  receiving,  capacity  for  understanding. 

119.  a  cypress,  which  is  a  fine  transparent  stuff  now  called  crapx:. 
See  Winter's  Tale  iv.  4.  221,  where  the  first  folio  has, 

'  Cypresse  blacke  as  ere  was  Crow.' 


136  NOTES.  [act  hi: 

Compare  also  Milton's  Periseroso,  35  :  '  Sable  stole  of  cypress  lawn.' 
Palsgrave  (Lesclarcissement  de  la  Langue  Fran9oyse)  gives :  '  Cypres 
for  a  womans  necke — crespe ' :  and  Cotgrave  (Fr.  Diet.),  '  Crespe  :  ni. 
Cipres ;  also,  Cobweb  Lawne.'  In  Ben  Jonson's  Every  Man  in  his 
Humour,  i,  3,  the  edition  of  1616  reads:  'And  he  .  .  .  this  man  !  to 
conceale  such  reall  ornaments  as  these,  and  shaddow  their  glorie,  as 
a  Millaners  wife  do's  her  wrought  stomacher,  with  a  smokie  lawne,  or 
a  black  cypresse  ? '  The  etymology  of  the  word  has  been  considered 
doubtful.  Skinner  (Etymol.  Angl.)  regards  it  as  a  corruption  of  the 
French  crespe,  but  suggests  that  it  may  be  derived  from  the  island 
of  Cyprus,  where  it  was  first  manufactured.  The  latter  derivation  is  the 
more  probable.  There  are  many  instances  in  which  articles  of  manufac- 
ture are  named  from  the  places  where  they  were  made,  or  at  which  they 
were  commonly  sold.  For  example,  arras  was  so  called  from  Arras, 
baudekyn  from  Baldacco  or  Bagdad,  calico  from  Calicut,  cambric  from 
Cambray,  cashmere  from  Cashmere,  damask  from  Damascus,  dimity 
from  Damietta,  dornick  from  Tournay,  dowlas  from  Dourlans,  lockeram 
from  Locrenan,  muslin  from  Mosul.  The  probability  that  cypress  (or 
sipers,  as  it  is  also  spelt)  has  a  similar  origin,  is  increased  by  finding 
that  the  island  of  Cyprus  is  associated  with  certain  manufactures.  In 
the  Antient  Kalendars  and  Inventories  of  the  Treasury  of  the  Exchequer, 
edited  by  Sir  Francis  Palgrave  (iii.  35S),  among  the  goods  and  chattels 
belonging  to  Richard  II,  and  found  in  the  Castle  at  Haverford,  are 
enumerated  :  '  Prim'cmeiit  xxv.  draps  d'or  de  div'ses  suytes  dount  iiii.  de 
Cipre  les  autres  de  Lukes'  Lukes  is  here  Lucca  (Fr.  Liicqties),  and 
Cipre  is  Cyprus.  Again,  in  a  list  of  draperies  sold  at  Norwich  in  44 
and  45  Elizabeth  (quoted  by  Mr.  Gomme  in  Notes  and  Queries,  5th 
Series,  x.  226,  from  the  Appendix  to  the  Thirty-eighth  Report  of  the 
Deputy  Keeper  of  the  Public  Records,  p.  44).),  we  find  '  fustyans  of 
Naples  .  .  .  Paris  clothes  .  .  .  sattins  of  Cipres,  Spanish  sattins.'  Further, 
in  the  Nomenclator  of  iladrianus  Junius,  translated  b.\  Iligins  (ed.  Flem- 
ing, 1585,  p',  157),  we  find, '  Vestis  subscrica,  tramoserica  .  .  .  De  satin  de 
Cypres.  A  garment  of  cypers  satten,  or  of  silke  grograine.'  If  there- 
fore there  were  special  fabrics  known  as  '  cloth  of  gold  of  Cyprus  '  and 
'  satin  of  Cyprus,'  it  is  evident  that  these  were  so  called,  either  because 
Cyprus  was  the  place  of  their  manufacture,  or,  which  is  equally  probable, 
because  they  were  brought  into  Furo[)e  from  the  East  through  Cyprus. 
In  Hall's  account  ^Chronicle,  Hen.  viii.  fol.  83a)  of  a  masque  at  the 
entertainment  given  to  Henry  the  Eighth  by  Francis,  it  is  said 
that  three  ol  the  performers  had  "  on  their  hedes  bonettes  of  Turkay 
fashyon,  of  clotli  of  gold  of  Tyssue,  and  clothe  of  syluer  rolled  in 
Cypres  kercheffes  after  the  Panyns  fashyon,'  which  points  to  an  Eastern 
origin  for  tiie  use  of  cypress.     From  denoting  the  material  only,  the 


sc.  1.]  TWELFTH   NIGHT.  137 

word  '  cypress '  came  to  signify  a  particular  kind  of  kerchief  or  veil 
worn  by  ladies,  as  in  the  present  passage.  So  in  Morio's  Italian 
Dictionary :  '  Velaregli.  shadowes,  vailes,  Launes,  Scarfes,  Sipres  or 
Honegraces  that  women  vse  to  weare  one  their  faces  or  foreheads  to 
keepe  them  from  the  Siume.'  And  the  pedlar  in  John  lleywooti's  play 
of  The  Four  P's  has  in  his  pack  ^^Dodsley's  Old  English  Plays,  ed. 
llazlilt,  i.  350): 

'  Sipers,  swathbands,  ribbons,  and  sleeve  laces.' 
Mr.  Wheatley,  in  his  edition  of  Ben  Jonson's  livery  Man  in  his  Humour 
.p.  140),  conjectures  that  the  name  Cypress  is  derived  from  'the  plant 
Cypims  tixtilis,  which  is  still  used  for  the  making  of  ropes  and  malting.' 
One  of  the  English  names  of  this  plant  was  '  cypress.'  Cierarde  in  his 
Herbal  (.1597)  says,  '  Cyperus  longus  is  called  ...  in  English,  Cypresse 
uid  Galingale.'  There  are,  however,  great  difficulties  in  the  way  ot 
-uch  an  etymology,  which  Mr.  Wheatley  was  driven  to  suggest  by  the 
want  of  evidence  in  favour  of  the  derivation  from  Cyprus. 

120.  Hideth,  adopted  in  the  Globe  edition  for  the  sake  of  the  metre, 
•  rom  the  conjecture  of  Delius.  The  folios  have 'Hides.'  Similarly  in 
Richard  HI.  iii.  6.  11,  the  quartos  have  'sees  not,'  for  'seeth  not,'  while 
the  folios  mend  the  metre  by  reading  '  cannot  see.' 

Ml.  a  grisc,  a  step;  from  Old  Fr.  p-is,  Lat.  gressus.  Compare 
Othello,  i.  3.  200  : 

'  Let  me  sj)eak  like  yourself,  and  lay  a  sentence, 
Which,  as  a  grise  or  step,  may  help  these  lovers 
Into  your  favour.' 
And  Timon  of  Athens,  iv.  3.  16  : 

'  Every  grise  of  fortune 
Is  smooth'd  by  that  below.' 
The  plural  of  this  word,  '  grisen '  or  '  grizen,'  is  the  proper  name  of  the 
steps  at  Lincoln,  which  are  known  as  the  Grecian  stairs. 

/b.  a  vulvar  proof,  a  matter  of  common  experience.  Compare 
Julius  Cxsar,  ii.  1.  21  : 

•  'Tis  a  common  proof 
That  lowliness  is  young  ambition's  ladder.' 
132.  due  7vcst,  as  the  sun  of  his  favour  was  setting. 
•33-  U'cshuard'/io !   a  cry  of  the  watermen  on  the  Thames,    which 
gave  its  name  to  one  of  Webster's  pLiys.     .See  Peele's  Edward  1   ^ed. 
Dyce,  1 86 1),  p.  409  : 

'  Q.  Elinor.     [A  cry  of  "  l\\st-.vard-ho  !  "] 

Woman,  what  noise  is  tliis  1  hear? 
Potters  Wife.     An  like  your  grace,  it  is  the  watermen  that  call 
for  passengers  to  go  westward  now.' 

13J.    You'll  twthiiii^,  you  will  send  nothing,  or  send  no  message. 


138  NOTES.  [act  III. 

149.  niaidhood,  maidenhood.     Used  again  in  Othello,  i.  i.  173: 

'  Is  there  not  charms 
By  which  the  property  of  youth  and  maidhood 
May  be  abused  ? ' 

150.  maugrc,  in  spite  of;  Fr.  »ial gre.     So  Lear,  v.  3.  133: 

'  Maugre  thy  strength,  youth,  place,  and  eminence.' 
153.  For  that,  because. 

158.  nor  never  none.  Another  instance  of  such  a  triple  negative 
will  be  found  in  As  You  Like  It,  i.  2.  29 :  '  Nor  no  further  in  sport 
neither.' 

1 59.  save  I  alone,  I  only  being  excepted.    So  in  Julius  Ceesar,  iii.  2.  66 : 

'  I  do  entreat  you,  not  a  man  depart. 
Save  I  alone,  till  Antony  have  spoke.' 
And  again,  v.  5.  69  : 

'  All  the  conspirators,  save  only  he, 
Did  that  they  did  in  envy  of  great  Ca;sar.' 
Hanmer  gives  the  words  '  Save  I  alone '  to  Olivia,  and  Johnson  thought 
'  probably  enough.' 

Seene  II. 

I.  a  jot,  the  least  bit.     See  Othello,  iii.  3.  215: 

'  lago.     I  see  this  hath  a  little  dash'd  your  spirits. 
Oth.     Not  a  jot,  not  a  jot.' 

12.  ^Slight.     See  ii.  5.  29. 

15.  grand-jiirynien,  persons  of  importance,  and  accustomed  to  hear 
evidence.  Compare  Nashe's  Lenten  Stuffe,  p.  3 :  '  Wealthy  saide  I, 
nay  I'le  be  swome  hee  was  a  grande  iuric  man  in  respect  of  me.' 

18.  dormouse,  slumbering,  like  the  dormouse  which  sleeps  all  the 
winter. 

24  yoH  are  now  sailed  into  the  north  of  my  lady's  opinion,  and 
are  out  of  the  sunshine  of  her  favour. 

25.  26.  a  Dutchmaii s  beard.  The  Dutch  were  the  great  explorers 
at  the  end  of  the  i6th  century,  and  Mr.  Coote  (Transactions  of  the  New 
Shakspere  Society,  1S77-9,  p.  94)  sees  in  this  passage  a  reference  to 
the  voyage  of  Barentz  who  discovered  Novya  Zembla  in  1596,  and 
whose  discovery  is  incorporated  in  the  map  which  is  found  in  some 
copies  of  the  complete  edition  of  Ilakluyt's  Voyages,  published  in 
1599-1600.  A  translation  of  Gerrit  de  Veer's  account  of  this  voyage 
was  entered  on  the  books  of  the  Stationers'  Company  to  John  Wolfe  on 
the  13th  of  June,  1598,  but  the  reprint  of  Phillip's  translation  for  the 
Hakluyt  Society  is  taken  from  a  copy  of  1609,  and  apparently  an  earlier 
edition  is  known.  Shakespeare,  however,  may  very  well  have  heard  of 
the  voyage  before  1602,  the  date  of  Twelfth  Night. 


sc.  2.]  TWELFTH    NIGHT.  I39 

22.  a  Brcnvnisl,  a  follower  of  Robert  Brown,  who  about  the  year 
1 581  founded  the  sect  of  Independents  or  Conj^regationalists,  with 
whom  Sir  Andrew,  who  ol  course  was  a  staunch  supporter  of  Church 
aiid  Queen,  would  have  no  sympathy.  Earle  in  his  Mici  o-cosmographia 
ed.  Arbor,  p.  64^).  says  of  A  Shec  precise  Hypocrite,'  '  No  thing  angers 
her  so  much  as  that  Wot-men  cannot  Preach,  and  in  this  point  onely 
thinkes  the  Brownist  erroneous.'  And  in  the  old  play  of  Sir  Thomas 
More  Shakes.  Soc.^,  p.  51  :  •  Heers  a  lowsie  jest  1  but.  if  I  notch  not 
that  rogue  Tom  barbar,  that  makes  me  looke  thus  like  a  Brownist, 
hange  me ! ' 

29.  a  politician.  Shakespeare  generally  uses  this  word  in  an  un- 
lavourable  sense,  as  denoting  a  political  intriguer  or  conspirator.  See, 
for  inst.Tni-c,  i  Henry  lY,  i.  3.  241  :  'this  vile  politician,  Bolingbroke.' 
And  Hamlet,  v.  i .  86 :  'It  might  be  the  pate  of  a  politician,  which  this 
.iss  now  o'erreaches ;  one  that  would  circumvent  God,  might  it  not  ? ' 
Again,  Lear,  iv.  6.  175  : 

■  Get  thee  glass  eyes  ; 
And,  like  a  scur\y  politician,  seem 
To  see  the  things  thou  dost  not.' 
.So  in  Browne's  Britannia's  Pastorals,  B.  ii.  i.  867  : 

'  And  they  then  would  see 
The  dinellish  Politician  all  conuinces. 
In  murdring  Statesmen  and  in  poisning  Princes.' 
;,o.  Imild  mc.     '  Me  '  is  a  relic  of  the  old  dative,  and  in  such  phrases 
is  almost  superfluous.     Compare  Julius  Ca-sar.  i.  2.  267  :  •  He  plucked 
me  ope  his  doublet."     And  The  Merchant  of  Venice,  1..  3.  85  : 
'The  skilful  shepherd  peel'd  me  certain  wands.' 
33.  love-broker,  negotiator  or   agent  in  love    affairs.     For  '  broker ' 
see  Hamlet,  i.  3.  127. 

35.  report  of  valour,  reputation  for  valour.     For  '  report '  see  iii.  4. 
182  ;  iv.  I.  21  ;  and  the  Authorised  Version  of  Acts  vi.  3  :  •  Wherefore, 
brethren,  look  ye  out  among  you  seven  men  of  honest  report.'     And  for 
this  sense  of  •  of '  compare  The  Merchant  of  Venice,  i.  i.  92  : 
'  With  i^urpose  to  be  drcss'd  in  an  opinion 
Of  wisdom,  gravity,  profound  conceit.' 
Again,  Bacon,  Advancement  of  Learning,  i.  2.  §  S  :  'The  reverence  of 
laws  and  government.' 

39.  a  martial  hand,  bold,  like  a  soldier's. 

Ih.  curst,  crabl)ed,  ili-tempereti.  Set  note  on  .\  Midsummer  Night's 
Dream,  iii.  2.  300. 

41,42.  if  tliou  thou  St  hint  sotiu  thrice.  Theobald  conjectured  that 
Shakespeare  aimetl  this  at  Sir  Edward  Coke,  who  in  his  sj)eech  as 
Attorney  Ciereral  on    the   occasion  of   Raleigh's   trial  at  Winchester. 


140  NOTES.  [act  in. 

thought  it  becoming  to  say  to  the  prisoner,  '  All  that  he  did  was  by 
thy  instigation,  thou  viper ;  for  I  i/iou  thee,  thou  traitor,  I  will  prove 
thee  the  rankest  traitor  in  all  England.'  But  the  trial  took  place  in 
November  1603,  and  we  now  know  that  Twelfth  Night  was  acted  in 
February  1602.  The  illustration,  however,  is  a  good  one,  as  a  speci- 
men of  intentionally  insulting  lajiguage.  Cotgrave  (Fr.  Diet.)  gives, 
'  Tutoyer,  to  thou  one.' 

44.  iJie  bed  of  Ware,  an  enormous  bed,  capable  of  holding  twelve 
persons,  now  to  be  seen  at  the  Rye-House.  It  was  ten  feet  nine  inches 
square  and  seven  feet  and  a  half  high,  and  till  about  ten  years  since 
was  in  the  Saracen's  Head  Inn  at  Ware.  In  1 700  it  was  at  the  George 
and  Dragon,  and  in  1734  at  the  Old  Crown  :  Mr.  Halliwell  [Phillipps] 
thinks  that  in  Shakespeare's  time  it  was  at  the  Stag.  It  is  figured  in 
Chambers's  Book  of  Days,  i.  229  ;  and  in  Knight's  Edition  of  Shake- 
speare as  an  illustration  of  this  passage.  Ben  Jonson  (The  Silent 
Woman,  v.  i)  refers  to  it. 

46.  about  it,  set  about  it. 
.  48.  the  cubic ulo.     Sir  Andrew's  lodgings  in  .Sir  Toby's  Latin. 

49.  manakin,  a  little  man;  from  the  old  Dutch  maiincken. 

55.  oxen  and  luainropes,  or  waggon  ropes.  Boswell  quotes  from 
Beaumont  and  Fletcher's  Loyal  Subject  [iii.  2]  :  '  A  coach  and  four 
horses  cannot  draw  me  from  it.'  See  also  Two  Gentlemen  of 
Verona,  lii.  i.  265,  where  Launce  says  '  a  team  of  horse  shall  not  pluck 
that  from  me.' 

57.  so  much  blood  in  his  liver,  which  was  the  seat  of  courage.    See 

1.  19.  A  white  or  bloodless  liver  was  a  sign  of  cowardice.  See  The 
Merchant  of  Venice,  iii.  2.  86 ;  2  Henry  IV,  iv.  3.  113. 

69.  opposite,  opponent,  adversary.     See  iii.  4.  221,  254;  Hamlet,  v. 

2.  62  : 

'  'Tis  dangerous  when  the  baser  nature  comes 
Between  the  pass  and  fell  incensed  points 
Of  mighty  opposites.' 

61.  the  youngest  ivrcn  of  nine,  referring  to  her  diminutive  size.  The 
folios  have  '  mine,'  which  Theobald  corrected.  A  wren  usually  lays 
from  seven  to  ten  eggs,  and  tlic  yomigest  of  a  brood  is  generally  the 
smallest. 

62.  the  spleen,  a  fit  of  laughter.  Compare  Love's  Labour's  Lost,  iii. 
I.  77:  'By  virtue,  thou  enforcest  laughter;  thy  silly  thought  my 
spleen  ;  the  heaving  of  my  lungs  provokes  me  to  ridiculous  smiling.' 
And  again,  in  the  same  play,  v.  2.  117.  The  explanation  of  this  mean- 
ing of  the  word  is  given  in  Holland's  Pliny,  .\i.  37  (vol.  i.  p.  343  d); 
'  For  sure  it  is,  that  intemperate  laughers  have  alwaies  great  Splenes.' 

^'3-  S^^i^>  ^  simpleton.   See  v.  1.  199,  and  note  on  Richard  III,  i.  3.  328. 


sc.  3-]  TWELFTH   NIGHT.  141 

r.4.  rencgtuio.     The  folios  havo  '  Kenegjatho,'  which  represents  some- 
what the  pronunciation  of  the  Spanish  word.     Minsheu  (S[ian.  Dict.^ 
has,  '  Renetjado,  an  aix)stata,  one  that  hath  forsaken  the  faith.'      The 
word  appears  not  to  have  been  thorou^jhly  naturalized  till  the  iSth 
tenturv.  for,  although  'renei^.ade'  is  found  at  the  end  of  the  previous 
enturv,  •  renegade'  is  used  by  Addison.     In  earlier  Knglisii  the  form 
.as  '  rcnegate,'  from  the  French  '  rcnegat,"  and  this  was  corrupted  into 
runagate.' 

66.  passages  of  grossness,  gross  impositions.     Compare  'pass  njion,' 

I.  14. 

di).  pedant.  Cotgrave  (Fr.  Diet.)  gives,  '  Pedant ;  m.  A  Pedant,  or 
ordinarie  Schoolemaster.' 

69,  70.  that  keeps  a  school  i  the  church.  It  was  not  unfrequently  the 
custom  for  schools  to  be  kept  in  the  pat-vis  or  room  over  the  church 
f>orch.  See  Fosbroke,  Encyclopaedia  of  Antiquities  (ed.  1825),  p.  452. 
The  same  authority  mentions  that  in  1447  several  clergymen  in 
London  petitioned  Parliament  for  leave  to  set  up  schools  in  their 
respective  parish  churches  (p.  .^95). 

73.  the  nCiV  map  -with  the  augmentation  of  the  Indies.  In  a  paper 
published  in  the  Transactions  of  the  New  Shakspere  Society,  1877-9 
(pp  88-99),  Mr.  Coote  gives  reasons  for  believing  that  Shakespeare  here 
referred  to  the  map  which  is  found  in  some  copies  of  the  complete 
edition  of  Hakluyt's  Voyages  (1599  1600),  and  in  which  the  East 
Indies  are  given  in  greater  detail  than  in  any  previous  map,  so  as  to 
characterise  this  as  '  the  new  map  with  the  augmentation  of  the  Indies.' 
But  this  description  of  the  map  has  so  much  the  appearance  of  the  title 
under  which  it  was  issued,  that  the  absence  of  it  from  the  map  in 
question  creates  in  me  some  misgiving  as  to  whether  it  is  really  the 
map  which  Shakespeare  had  in  mind.  In  all  other  respects  it  suits 
e.\actly,  and  the  difficulty  I  have  suggested  may  not  be  an  insuperable 
.one. 

Scene  IIP. 

6.  not  all.  not  only,  or  altogether. 

8.  jealousy,  suspicion,  apprehension.     Compare  Henry  V,  ii.  2.  126  : 

'O,  how  hast  thou  with  jealousy  infested 
The  sweetness  of  affiance  I ' 

9.  skilless,  unskilled,  inexperienced.     So  in  Troilus  and  Cressida,  i. 

1.  12  : 

'  Less  valiant  than  the  virgin  in  the  night. 
And  skilless  as  unpraclise<l  infancy.' 
15,  16.     These  lines  are  omitted  in  all  the  folio  editions  after  the  first, 


T42  NOTES.  [act  III. 

apparently  in  consequence  of  the  defect  in  1.   15,  which  has  never  been 
satisfactorily  remedied.     Theobald  read  it, 

'  And  thanks,  and  ever  thanks ;    and  oft  good  turns '  &c. 
Steevens   followed   Theobald,   but   substituted  '  often '   for   '  and  oft.' 
Collier's  MS.  Corrector  has, 

'  And  thanks,  still  thanks  ;    and  very  oft  good  turns.' 
Mr.  Grant  White  reads, 

'And  thanks:  and  very  oft  good  turns,' 
but  proposes 

'  And  thanks,  and  thanks ;  and  very  oft  good  turns.' 
Theobald's  reading  would  be  improved  by  substituting  '  for  oft '  instead 
of '  and  oft.' 

17.  mj/  worth,  what  I  am  worth,  my  possessions. 

lb.  as  is  my  conscience  fir?n,  as  solid  and  substantial  as  my  conscious- 
ness of  what  I  owe  you. 

18.  WhaCs  to  do  ?  What  is  there  for  us  to  do  ?  What's  to  be  done  ? 
Compare  Othello,  i.  2.  19  :  ' 'Tis  yet  to  know.'  And  As  You  Like  It, 
i..  2.  121:  '  For  the  best  is  yet  to  do.'  Again,  The  Tempest,  iii.  2. 
106 : 

'  And  that  most  deeply  to  consider  is 
The  beauty  of  his  daughter.' 
See  Abbott,  Shakespeare  Grammar,  §  359. 

19.  go  sec.  So  'go  visit,'  Richard  II.  i.  4.  63  ;  '  go  buy,'  As  You  Like 
It,  i.  I.  79,  &c. 

//'.  the  rcliques,  the  remains  or  monuments  of  antiquity,  the  '  me- 
morials'  mentioned  in  1.  23. 

■24.  rcnoiu7i,  make  famous.     Compare  Henry  V,  i.  2.  118  : 
'  The  blood  and  courage  that  renowned  them.' 
26.  his,  for  the  sign  of  the  possessive  case  ;  as  in  i  Henry  VI,  i.  2.  i, 
'Mars  his  true  moving.'     In  the  Authorised  Version  of  161 1,  in  the 
contents  of  Ruth  iii.  we  find,  '  By  Naomi  her  instruction,  Ruth  lieth  at 
Boaz  his  feete.'     See  Abbott,  §  217. 

28.  it  ivoidd  scarce  be  answer'' d,  the  charge  of  hostility  could  scarcely 
be  met,  or,  it  would  go  hard  with  me  to  meet  the  charge.  Compare 
Julius  Caesar,  iv.  i.  47: 

'  How  covert  matters  may  be  best  disclosed. 
And  open  perils  surest  answered.' 
'  Answer,'  both  as  a  verb  and  as  a  noim,  was  used  in  a  forensic  sense. 
See  Julius  Ca.^sar,  i.  3.  114: 

'  I  perhaps  speak  this 
Before  a  willing  bondman ;  then  I  know 
My  answer  must  be  made ' ; 
that  is,  I  must  abide  the  penalty. 


sc.  4.]  TWELFTH  SIGHT.  143 

33.  a>is-,L>er\/,  atoned  for.  compensated. 

36.  lapsed,  caught,  surprised. 

37.  ofen,  openly. 

39.  the  Elephant.  If  it  were  not  an  anachronism,  I  should  like  to 
suggest  that  Shakespeare  might  be  thinking  of  the  Elephant  and  Castle 
It  Newington,  which  is  in  '  the  south  suburbs' ;  but  1  have  been  unable 
to  trace  that  inn  further  back  than  the  middle  of  the  seventeenth 
century. 

40.  diet,  footl  or  fare  generally  ;  not,  as  now,  prescribed  or  limited 
food.  In  Shakespeare's  time  it  had  the  sense  of'  daily  food,'  as  is  clear 
from  Cotgrave  (Fr.  Uict.>,  who  gives,  '  Diete  :  f.  Diet,  or  dailie  fare"; 
supposing  it  to  be  from  the  Latin  dies  instead  of  the  Greek  5«'a«Ta. 

41.  Whiles,  while. 

42.  luive  iiie,  find  me,  meet  me. 

Seene  IV. 

I .  he  says  he'll  come.  Warburton  takes  this  hypothetically ;  '  suppose 
he  says  he'll  come.'  Theobald  reads,  '  say,  he  will  come ' ;  the  mes- 
senger not  having  yet  returned. 

i.  bestow  of  him,  bestow  on  him.     So  in  All's  Well,  iii.  5.  103  : 
'  I  will  bestow  some  precepts  of  this  virgin,' 

4,  5.  /  speak  .  .  .  civil.  The  arrangement  is  Pope's.  The  folios 
have  but  one  line,  re.ading  '  Where's.' 

5.  sad,  serious,  grave.     See  I.  19,  and  Lucrece,  ^77  : 

'Sad  pause  and  deep  regard  beseem  the  sage.' 
And  Much  Ado,  i.  3.  6: :  '  The  prince  and  Claudio,  hand  in  hand,  in  sad 
conference.' 

lb.  civil,  sober  in  demeanour,  well-mannered.     See  i.  4.  20. 

12.  your  ladyship  were  best,  it  were  best  for  your  ladyship.  See  i.  5. 
28,  ii.  2.  24. 

13.  tainted,  unsound.     See  iii.  1.66. 

18,  19.  Smilest  .  .  .  occasion.     As  one  line  in  the  folios. 

23.  Please  one,  and  please  all.  The  burden  and  tune  of  an  old  ballad 
of  which  only  one  copy  is  known  to  exist,  in  the  collection  formerly 
belonging  to  the  librar>-  at  Helmingham,  which  was  sold  at  Mr.  George 
Daniel's  sale,  and  is  now  in  the  possession  of  Mr.  Huth.  It  is  printed 
in  Staunton's  edition  of  Shakespeare,  and  in  the  volume  of  Ancient  Ballads 
and  Broadsidc-s  p.  255),  published  by  Lilly  in  1867,  from  Mr.  Huth's 
collection.  The  title  is,  '  A  prettie  newe  Ball.ad,  intytuled  :  The  Crowe 
sits  vpon  the  wall.  Please  one  and  please  all.  To  the  tune  of,  Please 
one  and  please  all.'  At  the  end  arc  the  letters  *  R.  T.,'  which  are 
believed  to  be  the  initials  of  Richard  Tarlton,  the  actor.     The  ballad 


144  NOTES.  [act  in. 

was  entered  on  the  Registers  of  the  Stationers'  Company  i8th  Jan., 
1591-2. 

47.  Tliy  yellow  stockings  !  Dyce  in  his  second  edition  adopted  Lett- 
som's  conjecture,  '  My  yellow  stockings  1 '  because  Olivia  does  not 
know  that  Malvolio  is  quoting  the  letter. 

53.  ntidsiimtnci-   mmhtcss.     Intense   heat   is  enumerated    by  Burton 
(Anatomy  of   Melancholy,   Part  1.  Sect.  2.  Mem.   2.  Subs.  5)  among 
the  causes  of  melancholy :  '  Bodine  .  .  .  proves  that  hot  countreys  are 
most  troubled  with  melancholy.'     Compare  Much  Ado,  i.  i.  94  : 
'  Leoti.  You  will  never  run  mad,  niece. 
Beat.  No,  not  till  a  hot  January.' 

55.  en  treat  him  hack.  With  adverbs  of  direction  the  omission  of  the 
verb  of  motion  is  common. 

59.  people.     See  i.  5.  97. 

60.  miscarry,  go  wrong,  come  to  harm;  a  euphemistic  expression. 
See  Richard  III,  i.  3.  16  : 

'  But  so  it  must  be,  if  the  king  miscarry.' 
.61.  do  you  co7?ie  ?tear  me  now  ?  do  you  imderstand  me  now?  do  you 
know  who  I  am? 

68.  consequently,  accordingly,  in  accordance  therewith.  Compare 
King  John,  iv.  2.  240  : 

'  Yea,  without  stop,  didst  let  thy  heart  consent, 
And  consequently  thy  rude  hand  to  act 
The  deed,  which  both  our  tongues  held  vile  to  name.' 
70.  some  sir  of  note,  some  gentleman  of  distinction.     See  Winter's 
Tale,  iv.  4.  372  : 

'  O,  hear  me  breathe  my  life 
Before  this  ancient  sir.' 
Ih.  limed,  caught  as  with  birdlime.     Compare  Much  Ado,  iii.  i.  104: 
'  She's  limed,  I  warrant  you  :    we  have  caught  her,  madam.' 

']i.  Jove^s  .  .  .Jove.  Shakespeare  no  doubt  in  1602  wrote  'God's' 
and  '  God,'  and  the  change  was  made  to  avoid  the  penalty  of  the  Act  ot 
3  James  I.  Chap.  21,  'to  restrain  the  abuses  of  players.'  See  note  on 
The  Merchant  of  Venice,  i.  2.  99  (Clar.  Press  ed.).  In  the  present  play 
the  censor's  work  has  not  been  uniform.     See  i.  5.  13,  72,  &c. 

74.  adheres,  coheres,  is  coherent.  Compare  Merry  Wives,  ii.  i.  62  : 
'  But  they  do  no  more  adhere  and  keep  place  together  than  the 
Hundredth  Psalm  to  the  tune  of  Green  Sleeves.' 

II).  no  dram  of  a  scruple,  punning  upon  the  two  meanings  of 
'scruple.'  Compare  2  Henry  IV,  i.  2.  149:  'But  bow  I  should  be  your 
patient  to  follow  your  prescriptions,  the  wise  may  make  some  dram  of  a 
scruple,  or  indeed  a  scruple  itself.' 

75.  incredulous  appears  to  be  used  here  in  an  active  sense.     Malvolio 


sc.  4.]  TWELFTH   NIGHT.  I45 

would  say  that  nothing  has  occurred  which  would  make  him  incredulous. 
For  instances  of  adjectives  used  bolli  in  the  active  and  passive  sense  see 
Abbott,  Shakespeare  Grammar,  §  3. 

80.  ///  /iiii'i,  in  miniature.  Sec  Hamlet,  ii.  2.  384:  '  Those  that  would 
make  mows  at  him  while  my  father  lived,  give  twenty,  forty,  fifty,  an 
hundred  ducats  a-piece  for  his  picture  in  little.'  In  the  present  passage 
the  phrase  '  drawn  in  little,'  which  has  tiiis  technical  meaning,  is  used  in 
the  sense  of '  contracted  into  a  small  compass  ' ;  the  devils  being  supposed, 
IS  in  Milton  (Par.  Lost,  i.  7S9),  to  have  the  power  of  altering  their 
dimensions. 

/d.  Ligion.     See  Maik  v.  9. 

S4.  private,  privacy.  Bacon  (Essay  xx.xiii,  p.  141,  cd.  Wright)  uses 
•  private '  as  a  substantive,  though  not  exactly  in  the  same  sense : 
'  Besides  some  Spots  of  Ground,  that  any  Particular  Person,  will  Manure, 
for  his  owne  Private.' 

95.  La  you,  look  you.  See  Winter's  Tale,  ii.  3.  50 :  '  La  you  now, 
you  hear.' 

Jb.  an,  if.     Printed  '  and  '  in  the  folios,  as  usual. 

96.  a(  heart,  to  heart.     So  in  The  Merchant  of  Venice,  v.  i.  145  : 

'  Since  you  do  take  it,  love,  so  much  at  heart.' 

97.  Carry  his  icatcr  to  the  wise  woman.  Burton,  in  his  Anatomy  of 
.Melancholy  J'art  L  Sec.  3.  Mem.  i.  Subs,  i),  gives  the  signs  which 
according  to  this  method  of  diagnosis  indicate  melancholy.  It  is  again 
referred  to  in  2  Henry  IV,  i.  2.  2,  and  Macbeth  v.  3.  51.  Uouce  quotes 
from  Hey  wood's  play  of  The  Wise  Woman  of  Hogsdon  [ii.  1  ;  Works, 
V.  292]  :  '  You  have  heard  of  Mother  Xotiiigham,  who. for  her  time,  was 
prettily  well  skill'd  in  casting  of  Waters :  and  after  her,  Mother 
Bom  bye.' 

106.  my  baweoek,  my  fine  fellow:  Fr.  beau  coq.  Sec  Henry  V,  iii. 
2.  22  : 

'  Good  bawcock,  bate  thy  rage ;  use  lenity,  sweet  chuck ! ' 

107.  chuck,  a  term  of  familiar  endeannent      Compare  Macbeth,  iii. 

■J-  4.T  : 

'  Be  innocent  of  the  knowledge,  dearest  chuck, 

Till  thou  applaud  the  deed.' 

109.  Ay,  Biddy,  come  with  me.     Probably  a  fragment  of  a  song. 

no.  cherry-pit,  a  childish  game,  which,  according  to  Steevens,  is 
I>layed  by  pitching  cherry  stones  into  a  small  hole.  He  quotes  from 
Nash,  who  says  of  ladies'  painting,  '  You  may  play  at  cherry-[)it  in  their 
cheeks."  And  from  The  Witch  of  Edmonton,  by  Rowley,  Dekker,  and 
Ford  [iii.  i] :  '  1  have  lov'd  a  witch  ever  since  I  played  at  cherry-pit.' 

Jb.  Satan,  spelt  '  Sathan '  in  the  folios,  as  everywhere  else  in  Shake- 
siKarc.     The  form  appears  to  have  been  derived  from  the  miracle  plays, 

1. 


146  NOTES.  [act  III. 

for  I  do  not  find  it  in  the  printed  translations  of  the  Bible  which  were  in 
existence  in  Shakespeare's  time. 

III.  collier.  Johnson  quotes  the  proverb,  '  Like  will  to  like,  qiioth 
the  devil  to  the  collier.'  Ulpian  Fulwell  (156S)  wrote  a  play  with  this 
title.     See  Dodsley's  Old  Plays,  ed.  Hazlitt,  vol.  iii. 

114.  7ninx,  of  very  certain  meaning,  but  uncertain  etymology.  Cot- 
grave  (Fr.  Diet.)  gives,  '  Gadrouillette  ;  f.  A  minx,  gigle,  flirt,  callet, 
Gixie ;  (a  fained  word,  applyable  to  any  such  cattell.)'  Again, 
'  Obereau :  A  hobble  (Hawke;)  also,  a  young  minx,  or  little  proud 
sciualL'  It  is  used  also  for  a  lapdog  in  Udall's  translation  of  the 
Apophthegmes  of  Erasmus  (ed.  Roberts,  1877),  P-  ^43=  'There  ben 
litle  minxes,  or  pupees  that  ladies  keepe  in  their  chaumbeis  for  especial 
iewels  to  playe  withall.'  In  the  same  passage  '  mynxe  '  is  the  transla- 
tion oi  Melitaus.  The  word  may  possibly  be  derived  from  the  mink  or 
minx,  the  name  of  which  is  believed  to  be  of  Swedish  origin  {nurnk)  ; 
and  from  the  fur-bearing  animal  it  may  have  been  transferred,  on 
account  of  some  fancied  resemblance,  to  a  long-haired  lap-dog,  and  after- 
wards applied,  like  puppy,  puss,  and  vixen,  to  animals  of  a  superior 
order.     Some,  however,  connect  'minx  '  with  '  minnekin.' 

117.     clement.     See  iii.  1.  56. 

122.  gc7iius,  the  familiar  sjiiiit  which  was  believed  to  govern  a  man's 
actions  ;  here  used  for  the  spiritual  nature.  See  note  on  Julius  Ccesar, 
ii.  I.  66.  Sir  Toby  would  say  'The  plot  has  taken  possession  of  his 
very  soul.' 

124.  take  air,  get  abroad,  and  so  become  public  and  stale. 

128.  in  a  dark  room  and  bound.  It  is  not  long  since  this  was  the 
usual  method  of  treating  lunatics.  See  iv.  2.  30,  v.  i.  292,  and  compare 
As  You  Tike  It,  iii.  2.  421  :  'Love  is  merely  a  n)adness,  and,  I  tell  you. 
deserves  as  well  a  dark  house  and  a  whip  as  madmen  do.'  And  The 
Comedy  of  Errors,  iv.  4.  97  : 

'  Mistress,  both  man  and  master  is  possess'd ; 
I  know  it  by  their  pale  and  deadly  looks  : 
They  must  be  bound  and  laid  in  some  dark  room.' 

130.  carry  it,  manage  it.  Compare  Midsummer  Night's  Dream,  iii. 
2.  240 : 

'  This  sport,  well  carried,  shall  be  chronicled.' 
And  Henry  VIII.  i.  2.  134  : 

'  He'll  carry  it  so 
To  make  the  sceptre  his.' 

133  a  finder  of  madmen .  That  anything  more  is  intended  than  a  pun 
which  turns  upon  the  'finding'  or  verdict  of  a  jury' is  not  evident, 
though  Ritson  thought  that  'finders  of  madmen  must  be  those  who 
acted  under  the  writ  '■  De  lunatico  inquirendo";  in  virtue  whereof  they 


«c.4]  TWELFTH   NIGHT.  1 47 

found    the    man    mad.'      Later    in    the    cciiUiry   witch-fmders    were 
notorioui. 

135.  a  May  morttifit^,  the  season  for  sport  and  merriment  of  all  kinds. 
.Stow  Survay  of  London.  1603,  p.  yy)  says:  'I  find  also  that  in  the 
inoneth  of  May,  the  Citizens  of  London  of  all  estates,  lightly  in  cuery 
Parish,  or  sometimes  two  or  three  parishes  ioyning  togither,  had  their 
>cui;rall  mayings,  and  did  fetch  in  Maypoles,  with  diuerse  warlike 
shewcs,  with  good  Archers.  Morice  dauncers  and  other  deuices  for  pas- 
time all  the  day  long,  and  towards  the  Euening  they  had  stage  playts, 
and  IJonefiers  in  the  streetes.' 

140.  Give  me.     Lettsom  proposed   'Give  't  me';   but  there  is   no 
necessity  for  a  change.     Compare  Romeo  and  Juliet,  iv.  i.  121 : 
'  Give  me,  give  me  :    O,  tell  me  not  of  fear.' 
143.  nor.  ..not.  For  the  double  negative  see  V'enus  and  Adonis,  409: 

'  I  know  not  love,  quoth  he,  nor  will  not  know  it.' 
3.    admire,  be  surprised.      Sir  Andrew's  use  of  the  word  may  be 
justified.     See  The  Tempest,  v.  i.  154: 

'  I  perceive,  these  lords 
At  this  encounter  do  so  much  admire 
That   they   devour  their   reason.' 
And  .Milton,  Paradise  Lost.  ii.  677.  678: 

'  The  undaunted  fieiul  what  this  might  be  admired ; 
Admired,  not  fear'd.' 
I46.  ttote,  remark,  observation. 

157.  the  windy  side  of  the  law,  so  that  the  law  cannot  scent  you  out 
and  track  you,  as  a  hound  does  the  game.  So  IJeatrice  Much  Ado,  ii. 
I.  327  >  says  of  her  heart,  '  I  thank  it,  poor  fool,  it  keeps  on  the  windy 
side  of  care,'  and  so  out  of  its  fangs.  Staunton  jioints  out  that  in 
an  old  Italian  treatise  (1524),  which  contains  among  other  things  the 
Rules  of  the  Duello,  a  distinction  is  made  between  different  method.--  of 
giving  the  lie,  such  as,  simply,  '  Thou  liest ' ;  or,  '  Thou  best  in  thy 
throat '  ;  or,  '  Thou  liest  in  thy  throat  like  a  rogue  ' ;  or,  finally,  •  Thon 
liest  in  thy  throat  like  a  rogue  as  thou  art '  :  whicli  inevitably  led  to  a 
challenge.     Sir  Andrew  stopped  short  of  the  last  insult. 

165.  (ommcrce,  intercourse,  conversation,  discourse.  Compare 
Hamlet,  iii.  i.  1 10  : 

'  Ham.  That  if  you  be  honest  and  fair,  your  honesty  should  admit 
no  discourse  to  your  beauty. 

Oph.  Could    beauty,    my    lord,    have    better  commerce    than    with 
honesty  ?  ' 

lb.  by  and  hy,  immediately.  See  Matthew  xiii.  21:*  When  tribula- 
tion or  persecution  ariseth  because  of  the  word,  by  and  by  he  is 
often  ded.' 

L    2 


148  NOTES.  [act  111. 

16"].  scozit  mc.  See  iii.  2.  30,  31,  'Build  me,'  'Challenge  me';  and 
Abbott,  Shakespeare  Grammar,  §  220. 

168.  a  buDL-bailey ,  or  bumbailiff,  was  an  inferior  sheriff's  officer,  a 
shoulder-clapper,  who  followed  close  in  the  rear  of  his  victims  and 
perhaps  so  gained  his  name.  Others  say  he  was  a  '  bound-bailiff.' 
Whatever  the  origin  of  the  term  it  was  used  in  contempt. 

169.  horrible,  horribly;  adjective  for  adverb.  See  i  Henry  IV,  ii.  4. 
402  :  '  But  tell  me,  Hal,  art  not  thou  horrible  afeard  ?  ' 

171.  twanged  off,  pronounced  with  a  strong  accent. 
lb.  approbation,  attestation.     See  Heniy  V,  i.  2.  19  : 

'  For  God  doth  know  how  many  now  in  health 
Shall  drop  their  blood  in  approbation 
Of  what  your  reverence  shall  incite  us  to.' 

172.  proof,  trial,  test.     Compare  Troilus  and  Cressida,  i.  3.  34 : 

'  In  the  reproof  of  chance 
Lies  the  true  jaroof  of  men.' 
180.  tlodpolc,  a  blockhead.     Spelt  '  Clodde-pole '   here  in    the   first 
folio,  but  'Clotpole'  in  Troilus   and  Cressida,  ii.  i.  128;  Lear,  i.  4. 
51,  and  Cymbeline,  iv.  2.  184. 
182.  report.     See  iii.  2.  35. 

186.  like  cockatrices.  Compare  Richard  III,  iv.  i.  55,  and  Romeo 
and  Juliet,  iii.  2.  47  : 

'Say  thou  but  "I," 
And  that  bare  vowel  "  I "  shall  poison  more 
Than  the  death-darting  eye  of  cockatrice.' 
The  cockatrice  was  a  fabulous  creature,  half  cock  and  half  serpent, 
which  was  believed  to  be  hatched  by  a  snake  or  toad  from  a  cock's 
egg.     The  name  is  a  corruption  of   '  crocodile ' ;    from   Fr.   cocatrice, 
cocatris,  or  cocatrix,  Spanish  cocatriz,  cocadriz,  cocodrillo.   It  was  supposed 
that  the  glance  of  the  cockatrice  was  fatal  to  any  one  who  did  not  see  it 
first.     Sec  Bacon's  History  of  Henry  VII,  p.   194  (ed.  1622),  of  Perkin 
Warbeck  :  '  This  was  the  end  of  this  little  Cockatrice  of  a  King,  that 
was  able  to  destroy  those  that  did  not  espie  him  first.' 

187.  give  them  way,  m.ake  way  for  them,  retire  before  them.  So 
King  John,  i.  i.  156  : 

'Our  country  manners  give  our  betters  way.' 

188.  presently,  instantly.     See  v.  i.  167. 

192.  unchary,  unsparingly,  lavishly.  The  word  etymologically 
signifies  heedlessly,  carelessly ;  but  that  Shakespeare  understood  it  in 
the  other  sense  is  evident  from  Hamlet,  i.  3.  36  : 

'The  chariest  maid  is  prodigal  enough, 
If  she  unmask  her  beauty  to  the  moon': 
vvhere  '  chariest '  and  '  prodigal '  are  contrasted. 


sc.  4-]  TWELFTH  NIGHT.  I49 

193.  out.  Theobald's  rcadinj;  for  '  on't '  of  the  folios,  which  gives  at 
best  but  a  very  forced  sense.  The  change  is  at  once  justified  and 
rendere<l  necessary  by  the  meaning  of  '  uiichar}-.'  In  Winter's  Tale,  iv. 
4.  160: 

'  He  tells  her  something 
That  makes  her  blood  look  out ' ; 
the  folios  read  'on't'  as  here.     Capell  says  'laid  out'  signifies  'ex- 
posed.'    It  rather  means  'expended.' 

196.  ^havicntr,  behaviour,  deportment.     C'oni]5are  Hamlet,  i.  2.  Si  : 

'  Nor  the  dejected  'ha\  iour  of  the  visage.' 
I ^"f.  grief.     Rowe's  reading.     The  folios  have  'greefes'  or 'griefs.' 
The  change  is  necessary-,  not  so  much  on  account  of  the  grammar,  to 
which  a  parallel  might  be  found,  as  because  'passion'  and  '  griet '  are 
related,  but  not  '  passion  '  and  '  griefs.' 

198.  jewel  was  formerly  used  to  denote  any  personal  ornament  ot 
value;  from  the  Old  Yrtinch  Joiel,  Joel,  01  jotiel,  a  diminutive  oi jote 
which  is  the  Latin  ^a «<//«///.  Imogen  (Cymbeline,  ii.  3.  146)  uses  it  of 
her  bracelet : 

'  Go  bid  my  woman 
Search  for  a  jewel  that  too  casually 
Hath  left  mine  arm.' 

212.  despite,  spite,  malice.     See  Coriolanus,  iii.  3.  139: 

'  Follow  him, 
As  he  hath  follow'd  you,  with  all  despite.' 

213.  attends,  awaits.  So  in  Much  Ado  v.  4.  36:  'We  here  attend 
you.'     And  Richard  II,  i.  3.  116: 

'Attending  but  the  signal  to  begin.' 
lb.  dismount  thy  tuck,  in  plain  English,  draw  thy  sword.  The 
hangers  or  straps  by  which  the  rapier  was  attached  to  the  sword  belt 
are  called  in  the  affected  language  of  Osric  the  'carriages'  (Hamlet,  v. 
I.  158,  &c.),  and  Sir  Toby's  'dismount'  is  in  keeping  with  this  phrase- 
ology. A  tuck  wa-;  a  small  rapier.  Cotgrave  (Fr.  Diet.')  gives, '  Verdun, 
m.  The  little  Rapier,  called  a  Tucke.'  The  word  comes  to  us  from 
the  French  cstoc,  which  Cotgrave  defines  as  '  The  stocke,  tmnke,  or 
bodie  of  a  tree  .  .  .  also,  a  Rapier,  or  tucke.'  In  Florio's  Worlde  of 
Wordes  (1598)  we  find,  '.Stocco.  a  tnmcheon,  a  tuck,  a  short  sword, 
an  arming  sword.' 

214.  yare,  nimble,  active  ;  from  the  AS.  gearu,  ready,  prompt. 
See  The  Tempest,  i.  i.  7,  and  Antony  and  Cleopatra,  iii.  13.  131  : 

'  And  to  proclaim  it  civilly,  were  like 
A  halter'd  neck  which  does  the  hangman  thank 
For  being  yare  about  him.' 
217.  any  quarrel  to  me.     Compare  Much   Ado,    ii.    i.    243:  'The 


150  NOTES.  [act  111. 

Lady  Beatrice  hath  a  quarrel  to  you.'  And  Coriolanus,  iv.  5.  133. 
'  To '  marks  the  object  of  the  quarrel,  just  as  in  Capgrave's  Chronicle, 
P-  I73>  where  it  is  said,  '  Wiliam  Waleys  .  .  .  mad  al  the  cuntre  rebel 
to  Hldward  the  Kjmg  ' ;  a  sentence  which  caused  the  editor  to  add  the 
remarkable  sidenote  (corrected  in  the  Errata),  '  Rebellion  of  Wallace 
in  favour  of  the  English  King.' 
221.  opposite.     See  iii.  2.  59. 

224.  dubbed  luith  unhatched  rapier,  not  knighted  on  the  field  of 
battle  with  the  sword  which  bore  marks  of  his  prowess.  'Unhatched' 
is  ap|>arently  for  'unbacked,'  which  is  substituted  by  Pope.  Malone 
proposed  to  read  'an  hatcht  rapier,'  that  is,  a  rapier  whose  hilt  was 
richly  ornamented  and  gilt,  like  a  court  sword  not  meant  for  use. 

225.  and  on  carpet  consideration.  Francis  Markham  in  his  Booke 
of  Honour  (1625),  p.  71,  quoted  by  Reed,  describing  various  inferior 
kinds  of  knighthood,  says  :  '  Near  ^'nto  these  in  degree  (but  not  in 
qualitie,  for  these  are  truly  (for  the  most  part)  vertuous  and  worthy)  is 
that  ranke  of  Knights  which  are  called  Carpet- Knights,  being  men  who 
are  by  the  Princes  Grace  and  fauour  made  Knights  at  home,  and  in  the 
time  of  peace,  by  the  imposition  or  laying  on  of  the  Kings  Sword  .  .  . 
And  these  of  the  vulgar  or  common  sort,  are  called  Carpct-ktiights, 
because  (for  the  most  part)  they  receiue  their  honour  from  the  Kings 
hand,  in  the  Court,  and  vpon  Carpets,  and  such  like  Ornaments  belong- 
ing to  the  Kings  State  and  Greatnesse.'  The  term  '  carpet  knight ' 
came  to  be  used  in  contempt  for  an  idle  and  effeminate  person.  Baret 
in  his  Alvearie  (1580),  quoted  by  Steevens,  thus  explains  the  Latin 
proverb,  'Bos  ad  precsepe;'  'A  Prouerbe  to  be  applied  agaynst  those 
which  doe  not  exercise  themselues  with  some  honest  affaires  :  but  serue 
abhominable  and  filthy  idlenesse,  and  as  we  vse  to  call  them  carpet 
knightes."  In  employing  the  term  '  consideration '  Sir  Toby  implies  that 
Sir  Andrew's  honours  had  been  purchased. 

226.  brawl.     Spelt  '  brail '  in  the  first  folio. 

227.  ince7ise7nent,  exasperation,  rage.  Richardson  quotes  from  Hey- 
wood's  Rape  of  Lucrece  [Works,  v.  190]  : 

'We  engage  our  owne  deere  love  tvvixt  his  incensement 
And  your  presumption.' 
229.  Hob  nob,  like  'hab  nab,'  which  is  of  frequent  occurrence, 
denotes  '  come  what  may,'  '  hit  or  miss,'  and  the  like,  a  phrase  ex- 
pressing utter  recklessness.  '  Hab  nab  '  is  perhaps  the  original  form, 
and  is  probably,  as  Skinner  gives  it,  from  the  A.-S.  habbatt,  to  have, 
and  nabban  {  =  ne  habban)  not  to  have.  Johnson  derives  it  from  hap, 
an  alternative  etymology  mentioned  by  Skinner.  But,  however  derived, 
it  means  at  random,  or  haphazard.  Florio  (A  World  of  Wordes, 
1598)  gives,  'Auanuara,  at  a  venture,  at  hazard,  hab  or  nab,  at  sixe  or 


sc.  4]  TWELFTH   SIGHT.  1 /-,  I 

seuen."  In  his  Itnlian  Pictionary  (i6ii\  he  defines  the  same  word, 
'  hand  ouer  head,  at  randan,  at  hab  or  nab,  at  all  adiienture.'  Cotgrave 
(Fr.  Diet.)  has,  '  Conjecturalement.  Coniectuially,  by  ghesse,  or  con- 
iectiire,  habnab,  hittie-niissie.'  Again  I.yly.  Kuphues  and  his  England 
[ed.  Arber,  p.  354],  quoted  by  Todd  :  '  Thus  I'hilautus  determined,  hab, 
nab.  to  sende  his  letters.'  And  Malonc  rtfers  to  Ilolinshed's  Histor)-  of 
lrtlan<l  [e<l.  1577,  p-  77]:  'The  Citizens  in  their  rage,  imagining  that 
ener)'  posie  in  the  Churche  had  bin  one  of  y"  Souldiers,  shot  habbe  or 
nabbe  at  randon,  vpjx.'  to  the  Koode  loftc,  and  to  the  Chauncell.'  Com- 
pare Howell's  English  Proverbs,  p.  10:  '  Hab  or  nab,  He  have  her.' 

.•31.  <w/(/«</,  escort.     Compare  The  Merchant  of  Venice,  iv.  i.  14S: 

'Some  three  or  four  of  you 
Go  give  him  courteous  conduct  to  this  place.* 
And  King  John.  i.  i.  29  : 

'  An  honourable  conduct  let  him  have.' 

1:33.  taste,  test,  try.  Compare  Troilus  and  Cressida,  i.  3.  337,  where 
the  metaphor  is  kept  up  : 

'  For  here  the  Trojans  taste  our  dear'st  repute 
With  ihcir  finest  i)alate.' 

Ih.  quirk,  odd  humour,  whim,  caprice.     .See  All's  Well,  iii.  1.  ~.\: 
'  I  have  felt  so  many  quirks  of  joy  and  grief.' 

239.  meddle,  mix  or  t.ake  part  in  a  fight  of  some  kind.     See  1.  266. 

243.  to  kiitnv,  to  learn  or  ascertain  Compare  A  Midsummer  Night's 
Dream,  i.  i.  6>> : 

'  Know  of  your  youth,  examine  well  your  blood.' 
And  Othello,  v.  i .  1 1 7  : 

'Go  know  of  Cassio  where  he  supp'd  to-night.' 

J43.  to  him.     See  above,  1.  217. 

249  arhitrement,  decision,  trial.  Compare  Henry  V,  iv.  i.  168: 
'  If  it  come  to  the  arbitrement  of  swords.' 

252.  tike.     See  i.  3.  1 15. 

lb.  proof.     See  above,  1.  172. 

254.  opposite.     .See  iii.  2.  59. 

258.  with  sir  priest,  than  sir  knight,  that  is,  with  the  more  peaceable 
wearer  of  the  title  'sir.'  In  iv.  2.  2,  the  curate  is  called  '  Sir  Topas,' 
and  the  title  was  given  to  those  priests  who  had  taken  a  bachelor's 
degree  at  a  University.  See  notes  on  As  You  Like  It,  iii.  3.  54,  and 
Richard  III,  iii.  2.  in.  Of  .Sir  Hugh  Ashton,  Controller  of  the  House- 
hold to  the  I^dy  Margaret,  Fuller  History  of  the  University  of  Cam- 
bridge, e<l.  165-;,  p.  94)  says:  'This  Sir  Hugh  (whom  I  conceive 
rather  Sir  Priest  than  .Sir  Knight,  was  a  good  Iknefactor  to  the 
Colletige,  and  liith  buried  on  the  North-side  in  the  outward  Chappell' 
[of  St.  John's]. 


152  NOTES.  [act  111 

259.  Capell  omits  the  'Exeunt'  and  keeps  Fabian  and  Viola  on  the 
stajje,  because  in  1.  268  Sir  Toby  seems  to  point  to  them.  They 
might,  however,  be  within  view  of  Sir  Toby,  but  out  of  sight  of  the 
audience.  Dyce  in  his  second  edition  made  this  begin  a  new  scene, 
'Scene  V.  The  Street  adjoining  Olivia's  garden,'  because  in  v.  i.  58, 
Antonio,  who  is  arrested  at  the  end  of  this  scene,  is  said  to  have  been 
taken  •  Here  in  the  streets.' 

261.  a  fi7-ago  Sir  Toby's  corruption  of  'virago,'  or  else  a  word  of 
his  own  coinage.  If  'fire-eater'  had  been  in  existence  at  the  time, 
'  firago '  might  be  a  hybrid  between  this  and  '  virago.' 

262.  the  stuck.  A  corruption  of  '  stoccata,'  a  thrust  in  fencing.  See 
Romeo  and  Juliet,  iii.  i.  77,  Merry  Wives,  ii.  i.  234.  Florio  (Ital.  Diet.) 
gives,  '  Stoccata,  a  thrust,  a  stoccado,  a  foyne.'     So  Hamlet,  iv.  7.  162  : 

'  If  he  by  chance  escape  your  venom'd  stuck.' 
Steevens  quotes  from  Marston's  Antonio's  Revenge  [ed.  Halliwell,  vol. 
i.  p.  79]  : 

'  And  if  a  horned  divell  should  b^irst  forth, 
I  would  passe  on  him  vdth  a  mortall  stocke.' 

263.  anszvcr.     Another  technical  term  like  the  French  riposte. 

lb.  pays  you,  hits  you.  So  Falstaff  says  (i  Henry  IV,  ii.  4.  213), 
*  Two  I  am  sure  I  have  paid.' 

265.  the  Sophy.     See  ii.  5.  165. 

272.  grey  Capilct.  '  Capul '  was  a  north-country  word  for  a  horse,  as 
we  know  from  the  ballad  of  Robin  Hood  and  Sir  Guy  of  Gisborne, 
and  possibly  '  capilet '  may  be  a  diminutive  of  this. 

276.  to  take  up,  to  make  up,  settle.  See  As  You  Like  It,  v.  4  104: 
'  I  knew,  when  seven  justices  could  not  take  up  a  quarrel."  And 
North's  Plutarch,  Alexander  the  Great,  p.  729  (ed.  1595):  'Passing 
away  all  the  rest  of  tlic  day,  in  hunting,  writing  some  thing,  taking  vp 
some  quarrell  betweene  souldiers,  or  else  in  studying.'  Again,  Gosson's 
Schoole  of  Abuse  (ed.  Arber,  p.  21):  'Where  luno  which  is  counted 
the  ayre,  settes  in  her  foote  to  take  vp  the  strife,  and  steps  boldly 
betwixt  them  to  part  the  fray.' 

278.  He  is  as  horribly  conceited,  or  has  the  same  horrible  idea.  The 
verb  'to  conceit'  occurs  in  Julius  Caesar,  i.  3.  162  : 

'  Him  and  his  worth  and  our  great  need  of  him 
You  have  right  well  conceited.' 

283.  tlte  supportancc,  the  maintaining  or  upholding.  The  word 
occurs  in  iti  literal  sense  in  Richard  II,  iii.  4.  32  : 

'  Give  some  supportance  to  the  bending  twigs.' 

289.  07ie  bout.  Another  fencing  term,  derived  from  the  French  botte, 
or  Italian  hotla,  which  Torriano  (Ital.  Diet.)  defines  as  'a  blow,  a  stripe, 
a  streak,  a  hit,  or  a  venie  at  fence.' 


sc.  4-].  TWELFTH   XIGHT.  153 

290.  M**  Juili'o,  or  the  laws  of  duelling,  which  were-  laid  down  with 
great  nicety,  as  may  be  seen  in  Saviolo's  Practice  of  the  Duello  (I595\ 
with  which  Shakesj>eare  seems  to  have  heen  acquainte*!.  See  note  on 
As  You  Like  It,  v.  4.  S3  ^Clarendon  Press  ed.\  where  an  extract  from 
the  book  is  given.  In  the  beginning  of  the  17th  century  'duello'  was 
still  a  foreign  word,  and  '  duel '  had  not  fully  establishetl  itself.  See 
Love's  Labour's  Lost,  i.  2.  1S5:  'The  passado  he  respects  not,  the 
duello  he  regards  not.' 

301.  an  undertaker,  one  who  takes  upon  him  the  business  of  others, 
one  who  is  engaged  on  behalf  of  another,  as  surety  or  agent.  In  the 
Authorised  Version  of  Isaiah  xxwiii.  14,  'Undertake  for  us'  signifies 
'Be  surety  for  us.'  Tyrwhitt  has  pointed  out  that  in  16 14  the  word 
'undertaker'  had  acquired  an  opprobrious  sense,  but  there  is  no  reason 
to  suppose  that  Sir  Toby  uses  it  with  any  more  contempt  than  is 
naturally  felt  for  a  meddlesome  person.  At  the  beginning  of  the  1 7th 
century  it  signified  what  we  should  now  call  a  contractor,  and 
Bacon,  in  his  sjieech  in  the  House  of  Commons  concerning  the  Under- 
taker, says,  '  I  had  hear<l  of  Undertakings  in  several  kinds.  There 
were  Undertakers  for  the  plantations  of  Derry  and  Coleranc  in  Ireland, 
the  better  to  command  and  bridle  those  parts.  There  were,  not  long 
ago,  some  Undertakers  for  the  north-west  pass.ige :  and  now  there  are 
some  l.'ndertakers  for  the  project  of  dyed  and  dressed  cloths.'  (Life 
and  Letters,  ed.  Spedding,  v.  43.) 

307.  reins,  answers  the  rein. 

},\2.  fai'our,  countenance.     See  ii.  4.  24,  and  Troilus  and  Cressida, 

iv.  5.  213: 

'I  know  your  favour.  Lord  Llysses.  well.' 
313.  sea-cap.     The  sailor's  cap  of  the  period,  according  to  Fairholt 
in  Halliwell's  Folio  edition,  was  of  fur,  or  lined  with  fur. 
326.  pari,  partly.     So  in  Othello,  v.  2.  296: 

'  This  wretch  hath  part  confess'd  his  villany.' 

328.  my  having,  my  possessions,  property.  Compare  Merry  Wives, 
iii.  2.  73  :  '  The  gentleman  is  of  no  having.' 

329.  my  present,  my  present  store.  For  this  use  of  the  adjective 
compare  '  private,'  \.  84. 

338.  lying  vainness,  babbling  drunkenness.  This  is  Howe's  reading 
in  his  second  edition,  and  it  appears  to  be  the  best.  The  folios  have 
'lying,  vainnesse,  babling  drunkennesse,'  and  Steevens  (179.',)  printed 
'  lying,  vainness,  babbling,  drunkenness  ' ;  regarding  all  four  words  as 
substantives.  But  in  this  arrangement  there  is  no  sequence  or  climax  in 
the  four  things  which  are  stigmatized  as  vices,  and  it  is  better  to  take 
the  wonls  in  pairs,  with  an  adjective  and  substantive  in  each  pair. 

lb.  vainiuss,  boaslfulness. 


1 54  NOTES.  [act  IV. 

344,  7(i?y/t  such  sanctity  of  love.  For '  such '  in  this  sense  compare 
Cymbeline,  v.  5.  44  : 

'  Your  daughter,  whom  she  bore  in  hand  to  love 
With  such  integrity,  she  did  confess 
Was  as  a  scorpion  in  her  sight.' 
Capell  printed  the  line  as  an  unfinished  sentence  ending  '  love, — ,'  and 
Sidney  Walker  supposed  that  a  line  following  was  lost. 

346.  vc7terable,  deserving  of  veneration.  In  modern  usage  it  is 
always  associated  with  age. 

348.  vile.     The  folios  have  '  vilde  '  or  '  vild.' 

349.  good  feature,  a  beautiful  exterior. 

351.  unkind,  unnatural.     Compare  Lear,  iii.  4.  73  : 

'  Nothing  could  have  subdued  nature 
To  such  a  lowness  but  his  unkind  daughters.' 

352.  hemitcotis  evil.     See  ii.  2.  27. 

353.  o'erjlourish'd,  like  the  old  oak  chests  which  are  frequently  orna- 
mented with  elaborate  carvings. 

357.  so  do  not  I.  Viola  was  not  so'  confident  in  her  belief  that 
Sebastian  lived,  as  Antonio  was  that  she  wrs  Sebastian. 

361.  saws,  maxims,  proverbs,  which  frequently  ran  in  couplets. 

363.  Viola  remembers  her  brother  by  the  reflexion  of  her  own  face 
in  the  glass. 

}fii,.  favours.     See  above,  1.  312. 

366.  ifitproz'e  true.     See  I.  358. 

373.  'slid.     See  ii.  5.  29. 


ACT  IV. 

Scene  I. 

3.   Go  to,  go  to.    See  i.  5.  37. 

5.    Well  held  out,  well  kept  up  ;  the  Clown  supposes  Sebastian  to  be 
merely  playing  a  part.     Compare  Measure  for  Measure,  v.  i.  371  : 

'  If  thou  hast. 
Rely  upon  it  till  my  tale  be  heard. 
And  hold  no  longer  out.' 
And  A  Midsummer  Night's  Dream,  iii.  2.  239  : 

'Wink  each  at  other;  hold  the  sweet  jest  up.' 
9.  vent,  utter.     Compare  As  You  Like  It,  ii.  7.  41  : 
'  He  hath  strange  places  cramm'd 
With  observation,  the  which  he  vents 
In  mangled  forms.' 


sc.  1.]  TWELFTH  NIGHT.  1 55 

An'l  lien  Jonson,  The  Fox,  ii.  i,  quoteil  by  Delius  : 

'  Pray  yon,  what  news,  sir,  vents  our  climate?' 
This  may  have  t)een  in  ridicule  of  an  affected  usage. 

9,  10,  17-19,  are  printed  as  prosi-  in  the  folios.  L'apell  first  arranged 
them  as  verse. 

13.  I  a/n  afraid  this  pvat  luhlu-r,  thi-  tvorlti,  will  prove,  &c.  The 
folios  have  no  commas,  but  Johnson,  though  he  does  not  insert  them, 
gives  the  inteqiretation  which  they  involve  :  '  That  is,  affectation  and 
foppery  will  overspread  the  world.'  Knight  suggests  that  the  Clown 
speaks  aside,  'I  am  afraid  the  world  will  prove  this  great  lubber  (Sebas- 
tian "i  a  cockney' — a  foolish  fellow.  Douce  proposed  to  read  'this  great 
lubl«rly  word,'  but  the  expressii)n  is  not  applicable  to  '  vent,'  although 
it  is  adoptetl  by  Mr.  Grant  White. 

1 4    ungini  thy  strangeness,  rela.x  thy  distant  manner. 

17.  foolish  Greek.  '  Greek'  was  a  term  for  a  merr)'  companion.  In 
Udall's  play  of  Roister  Doister  one  of  the  characters  is  Mathew  Mery- 
grceke.  Compare  Troilus  and  Cressida,  i.  J.  1 18  :  '  Then  she's  a  merry 
Greek  indeed.' 

21.  report.  See  iii.  2.  35.  The  folios  put  a  comma  at  'rciiort,' 
meaning  probably  the  same  as  Staunton,  who  marked  it  with  a  dash,  to 
indicate  that  what  follows  is  said  aside,  or  in  a  different  tone. 

12.  after  fourteen  years"  purchase,  that  is,  at  fourteen  times  the  annual 
rent,  which  appears  in  Shakespeare's  time  to  have  been  a  high  price  for 
land.     In  1620  the  current  price  was  twelve  years'  purchase. 

34.  struck.  Spelt  'stroke'  in  the  first  and  second  folios,  '  strook ' 
in  the  third. 

38.  iron.     See  iii.  4.  240. 

lb.  Jleshed,  eager  for  slaughter,  like  an  animal  that  has  first  tasted 
blood.     See  note  on  Richard  III,  iv.  3.  6,  and  Henry  V,  iii.  3.  11  : 
'The  flesh'd  soldier,  rough  and  hard  of  heart.' 

43.  malapert,  saucy,  impudent.     See  Richard  III,  i.  3.  255  : 
'  Peace,  master  marquess,  yon  are  malapert.' 
In  Roquefort's  Glossaire  de  la  Langue  Romane  '  apert '  is  defined  as 
'indiscret,  effronte.  impudent.' 

fo.  Kudeshy,  rude,  ruffianly  fellow.  See  The  Taming  of  the  Shrew, 
iii.  2.  10  : 

'To  give  my  hand,  opposed  against  my  heart. 
Unto  a  mad-brain  rudcsby.  full  of  spleen.' 

32.  uncivil.     See  ii.  3.  116. 

lb.  extent  here  signifies  a  violent  attack,  and  it  derives  this  meaning 
from  the  language  of  law,  in  which  the  word  denotes  a  seizure  of  houses 
and  lands  under  a  writ  of  extendi  facias,  and  so  a  violent  seizure 
generally.     See  note  on  As  You  Like  It,  iii.  i.  17. 


156  NOTES.  [act  IV. 

55.  botch\i  tip,  patched  up  clumsily.  This  does  not  refer  to  the 
patching  up  of  quarrels  which  Sir  Toby's  conduct  had  bred,  but  to  the 
awkwardly  contrived  tricks  he  was  constantly  playing. 

56.  thou  shalt  not  ciioosc  but  go.  See  ii.  5.  15S,  and  the  Taming  of 
the  Shrew,  v.  i.  12  : 

*  You  shall  not  choose  but  drink  before  you  go.' 

57.  Beshrew,  evil  befall ;  a  very  mild  form  of  imprecation.  See 
note  on  A  Midsummer  Night's  Dream,  ii.  2.  54. 

58.  heart.  There  is  of  course  a  play  upon  the  wonis  'heart'  and 
'hart.'    See  i.  i.  17. 

59.  What  relish  is  in  this?  What  does  this  savour  of?  Is  it  real 
or  unreal  ? 

Sce7je  II. 

2.  Sir  Topas.  See  i'i.  4.  258.  The  name  occurs  in  Chaucer.  If 
Shakespeare  borrowed  it,  he  borrowed  nothing  else. 

3.  the  whilst,  in  the  meantime.     See  Richard  II,  v.  2.  22  : 

'  Alack,  poor  Richard !  where  rode  he  the  whilst  ? 

4.  dissetnble,  disguise.  In  Latin  se  dissimularc  means  to  disguise 
oneself,  but  there  is  no  need  to  suppose  that  in  putting  this  language 
into  the  mouth  of  the  Clown  Shakespeare  was  imitating  a  Latin 
idiom. 

6.  tall.  Dissatisfied  with  this  epithet,  Reed  at  Farmer's  suggestion 
substituted  '  fat.'     Tyrwhitt  proposed  •  pale.' 

7.  student.  Spelt  '  studient '  in  the  first  folio,  as  in  Merry  Wives,  iii. 
i.  38,  where  Justice  Shallow  says,  '  Keepe  a  Gamester  from  the  dice, 
and  a  good  Studient  from  his  booke,  and  it  is  wonderfuU.'  It  may  be 
that  in  both  these  passages  the  mis-sjoelling  is  intentional,  for  in  Love's 
Labour's  Lost,  ii.  i.  64,  iii.  i.  36,  the  word  is  in  its  usual  form. 

9.  conipetilors,  confederates.  See  Richard  III,  iv.  4.  506,  and 
Antony  and  Cleopatra,  i.  4.  3,  where  Caesar  speaking  to  Lepidus  ol 
Antony,  say.s, 

'  It  is  not  Cresar's  natural  vice  to  hate 
Our  great  competitor.' 

12.  the  old  hermit  of  Prague.  Not  Jerome  of  Prague  the  heresiarch, 
says  Douce,  '  but  another  of  that  name  bom  likewise  at  Prague,  and 
called  the  hermit  of  Camaldoli  in  Tuscany.'  But  this  is  treating  the 
Clown's  nonsense  too  seriously.  No  one  has  attempted  to  identify  the 
niece  of  King  Gorboduc. 

30.  in  hidcozis  darkness.     See  iii.  4.  12S. 

36.  hay  7uindoivs.  A  bay  window  is  a  projecting  window  which 
forms  a  bay  or  recess  in  a  room.  The  modern  equivalent  is  '  bow 
window,'  which  some  consider  a  corruption,   but  more  properly  de- 


sc.  J.]  TWELFTH   NIGHT.  1 57 

scribes  the  window  from  the  outsuic,  as  bay  window  docs  from  the 
inside. 

36.  barriccuioes.  As  in  the  case  of  'duello'  and  'duel,'  the  French 
form  of  the  word  '  barricade  '  had  not  in  Shakespeare's  time  become 
fully  naturalised.  See  Klorio,  A  VVorkle  of  Wordes  (1598):  '  Bari- 
cata,  Barricada,  a  baricado,  or  fortilication  with  barels,  timber,  earth.' 
And  Cotgrave,  Kr.  Diet.  ^i6ii):  '  Barriijuade  :  f.  A  barricado  ;  a  de- 
fence of  barrels,  timber,  pales,  Sac' 

37.  clearstories.  The  rtadini;  of  the  tirst  folio  is  '  clcere  stores,' 
which  became  in  the  second  folio  '  cleare  stones,"  and  in  all  subsequent 
editions  down  to  Boswdrs(i82i), '  clear  stones,'  which  is  not  even  sen- 
sible nonsense.  The  reading  adopted  by  Boswell  was  suggested  by 
Blakeway,  who  explains  'clearstory'  as  denoting  •  the  row  of  windows 
iTinning  along  the  upper  part  of  a  lofty  hall,  or  of  a  church,  over  the 
arches  of  the  nave.'  The  term  is  most  fanuliar  in  church  architecture, 
but  that  it  was  not  confined  to  ecclesiasiical  buildings  is  shewn  by  the 
examples  of  its  use  in  the  15th  and  16th  centuries,  given  by  Professor 
Willis  in  his  Architectural  Nomenclature  of  the  Middle  Ages,  pp.  58, 
59.  He  says,  'Apparently  "clerestory"  was  used  for  any  mode  of 
admitting  light  over  head.'  It  seems  to  have  been  so  called  in  opposi- 
tion to  'le  blyndstorys,'  which  is  another  name  for  the  triforium.  See 
Parker's  Glossary  of  Architecture,  quoted  by  Professor  Skeat  (App. 
to  Etymological  Diet.). 

43.  S(.e  Exodus  x.  21  -23. 

46.  abused,  misused,  ill-treated.    See  1.  84,  and  Richard  II,  ii.  3.  137: 

'The  noble  duke  hath  been  too  much  abused.' 

47.  any  constant  question,  a  question  which  requires  a  consistent 
answer  ;  or,  if  we  take  '  question,'  as  Malone  does,  in  the  sense  of '  con- 
versation,' '  any  constant  question '  will  mean  any  regularly  conducted 
formal  conversation  or  discussion. 

48.  the  opinion  of  Fytitagoras  concerning  the  transmigration  of  souls 
is  again  referred  to  in  The  Merchant  of  Venice,  iv.  i.  J31,  and  As  You 
Like  It,  iii.  2.  187  (163,  Clar.  Press  edition). 

50.  haply.  Spelt  'happily'  in  the  folios.  See  Henry  V,  v.  2.  93. 
As  the  old  copies  vary  between  '  haply,'  '  happily '  and  '  hapjjely,'  the 
more  familiar  siK-Uing  is  adopted  here  to  avoid  confusion. 

57.  a  woodcock,  which  was  a  proverbially  foolish  bird.     See  ii.  5.  77. 

58.  soul.     Corrupted  into  '  house  '  in  the  second  ami  later  folios. 

61.  /  ant  for  all  waters.  An  anonymous  correspondent  of  the  Gen- 
tleman's Magazine,  xx.  252,  says,  'From  the  Italian  proverb.  Ho  man- 
tello  d'ogni  acqua,  I  have  a  cloke  for  all  waters.'  The  meaning  of  this 
is  illustrated  by  another,  '  Non  si  fa  mantello  per  un'  acqua  sola.  A 
cloak  is  not  made  for  one  shower  only.'     Mulone  is  apparently  right  in 


158  NOTES.  [act  IV. 

interpreting,  '  I  can  turn  my  hand  to  anything ;  I  can  assume  any  char- 
acter I  please.'  Monck  Mason  thought  that  '  water '  was  used  in  the 
jewellers'  sense  of  the  colour  and  hue  of  precious  stones,  and  that  there 
was  a  play  intended  upon  the  name  '  Sir  Topas  '  which  the  Clown  had 
assumed.  But  compare  Heywood's  P3nglish  Traveller,  i.  2  (Works,  iv. 
20) :  '  Like  a  good  trauelling  Hackney,  learne  to  drinke  of  all  Waters.' 
64.   To  him.     See  above,  line  17. 

68.  the  up-shot,  or  decisive  shot,  a  term  of  archery,  as  the  '  up-cast,' 
or  final  throw,  was  used  in  the  game  of  bowls,  is  here  employed  meta- 
phorically to  denote  the  conclusion  of  any  business.  Compare  Hamlet, 
V-  2.  395  (368,  Clar.  Press  ed.)  : 

'  And,  in  this  upshot,  purposes  mistook 
Fall'n  on  the  inventors'  heads.' 
70.  Hey,  Robin,  jolly  Robin.     The  song  from  which  the  Clown  sings 
these  snatches  is  printed  in  Percy's  Reliques  of  Ancient  English  Poetry 
(i.  p.  198,  ed.  1857),  from  a  MS.  in  the  possession  of  Dr.  Harrington,  of 
Bath.     The  first  two  stanzas  run  thus  : 
'  A  Robyn, 

Jolly  Robyn, 
Tell  me  how  thy  leman  doeth, 

And  thou  shalt  know  of  myn. 
"  My  lady  is  unkynde  perde." 

Alack  !  why  is  she  so  ? 
"  She  loveth  an  other  better  than  me ; 
And  yet  she  will  say  no.'" ' 
83.  besides,  beside,  out  of.     Compare  Sonnet,  xxiii.  2  : 
'  As  an  unperfect  actor  on  the  stage 
Who  with  his  fear  is  put  besides  his  part.' 
lb.  five  wits,  or  powers  of  the  mind,  corresponding  in  number  to  the 
five  senses.     Stephen  Hawes,  a  poet  of  the  time  of  Henry  VII,  in  his 
Pastime   of  Pleasure   (cap.   xxiv,   p.    108,    Percy   Soc.    ed.),   quoted    by 
Malone,  enumerates   the    five   internal   wits   as  follows,   common  wit, 
imagination,  fantasy,  estimation,  and  memoiy.    Compare  Sonnet,  cxli.  9: 
'  But  my  five  wits  nc^r  my  five  senses  can 
Dissuade  one  foolish  heart  from  serving  thee.' 
86.  But  as  well  ?     Only  as  well  ? 

88.  propertied  me,  treated  me  as  a  property  or  thing  to  be  used  for  a 
particular  i)urpose,  as  if  1  had  no  will  of  my  own.  Compare  King 
John,  V.  2.  79  : 

'  1  am  too  higli-born  to  be  propertied, 
To  be  a  secondary  at  control. 
Or  useful  serving-man  and  insliumcnt. 
To  any  sovereign  state  throughout  the  world.' 


sc  J.]  TWELFTH   NIGHT.  159 

89,  90.  fo  face  me  out  of  my  -wits,  to  cheat  inc  out  of  my  wits  by 
shetr  impudence.     See  v.  i.  Si. 

92.  Mulvolio,  Malvolio,  <tv.  The  Clown  here  speaks  in  the  assumed 
voice  of  Sir  Topas. 

92,  9.V  endeavour  thyself.  '  Endeavour '  was  formerly  used  as  a  re- 
flexive verb,  as  in  the  Collect  for  the  Second  Sunday  after  Easter: 
•and  also  daily  endeavour  ourselves  to  follow  the  blessed  steps  of  his 
most  holy  life ' 

93.  bibble  babble,  is  a  reduplicated  word,  formed  from  'babble'  by 
a  prefix  to  give  intensity  to  the  meaning.  So  '  tittle  tattle '  from 
'  tattle.'  Richardson  quotes  from  Holland's  translation  of  Plutarchs' 
Morals,  p.  57:  'The  errours  committed  in  this  kinde,  have  l.-eene 
the  cause  why  there  is  found  so  little  wit  and  understanding,  and  con- 
trariwise so  much  tongue  and  bibble-babble,  such  vaine  chattring 
about  words  in  yoong  men  throughout  the  Schooles.'  See  also  Latimer 
(.Sermons,  p.  507,  Parker  Soc.  ed.) :  'I  speak  of  faithful  prayer:  for  in 
time  past  we  took  bibbling  babbling  for  prayer,  when  it  was  nothing  less.' 

95-97.  The  Clown  speaks  alternately  in  his  assumed  and  in  his 
natural  voice. 

96.  God  be  wP  you.     In  the  folios  '  God  buy  you.' 
100.  sheiit,  scolded,  reprimanded  ;  literally,  put  to  shame,  from  the 
Anglo-Saxon   sccndati.     See  note  on   Coriolanus    v.  2.   104  (91  Clar. 
Press  ed.).     Compare  Merry  Wives,  i.  4.  38  : 

'Rug.  Out,  alas  I   here  comes  my  master. 
Quick.  We  shall  all  be  shent.' 

103.  Well-a-day,\\Vii  '  alas,' an  expression  of  sorrow.  See  note  on 
Henry  V,  ii.  1.  32  (Clar.  Press  ed.) 

104.  By  this  hand.     See  i.  3.  32. 

106.  advantage  occurs  as  a  transitive  verb  in  Julius  Csesar,  iii.  i.  24;  : 
'  It  shall  advantage  more  than  do  us  wrong.' 
And  \'enus  and  Adonis,  950 : 

'What  may  a  heavy  groan  advantage  thee?' 
See  also  i  Corinthian.^  xv.  32. 

105.  arc  you  not  iitcui  indeed  ?  Johnson  suggesteil  that  the  negative 
should  be  omitted,  but  the  question  in  its  present  form  is  equivalent  to 
*  you  are  mad,  are  you  not  ?' 

118.  ///  a  trice,  instantly,  from  the  Spanish  en  un  tris.  See  Cymbe- 
line,  v.  4  1 7 1  :  '  O,  the  charity  of  a  penny  cord !  it  sums  up  thousands 
in  a  trice.' 

1 19.  the  old  Vice,  a  familiar  figure  in  the  ancient  moral  plays,  in  which 
he  is  always  introduceil  in  company  with  the  devil.  On  the  modern 
stage,  the  harlequin  is  his  nearest  representative.  Sec  note  on  Richard 
ni,  iii.  I.  82  (Clar.  Press  ed.). 


l6o  NOTES.  [activ.  sc.  3. 

121.  dagger  of  lath.  Compare  Henry  V,  iv.  4.  74-77  :  '  Bardolph  and 
Nym  had  ten  times  more  valour  than  this  roaring  devil  i'  the  old  play, 
that  every  one  may  pare  his  nails  with  a  wooden  dagger.'  The  Clown 
hints  that  he  plays  with  Malvolio  the  same  tricks  that  the  Vice  of  the 
old  Moralities  did  with  the  devil,  whom  he  beat  with  his  wooden 
sword  till  he  made  him  roar,  and  rode  about  the  stage,  to  the  delight 
of  the  spectators. 

126.  Adieu,  goodnmn  devil.  The  Clown,  comparing  himself  to  the 
Vice,  takes  leave  thus  contemptuously  of  Malvolio,  whom  he  befools  as 
the  Vice  did  the  Devil  of  the  early  stage.  There  does  not  appear  to  be 
any  sufficient  reason  therefore  for  changing  the  reading,  which  is  sub- 
stantially that  of  the  fust  folio,  'Adieu  good  man  diuell ;'  although  it 
has  been  changed  to  '  goodman  Drivel,'  to  avoid  the  repetition.  John- 
son suggested  '  goodman  Mean-evil,'  as  a  translation  of  Malvoiio's 
name.  Following  this  suggestion  Monck  Mason  proposed  '  good  Mean- 
evil.' 

Scene  III. 

6.  this  credit,  this  opinion  in  which  people  believed,  this  current 
belief.  I  lanmer  altered  '  credit '  to  '  current ' ;  Theobald  proposed 
'credent'  and  Mason  'credited,'  the  latter  conjecture  being  perhaps 
suggested  by  the  unusual  form  of  the  word  in  the  first  and  second  folios 
'credite.'  But  'credit'  is  used  in  just  the  same  sense  as  'trust,' 
in  line   15. 

12.  instance,  example. 

//;.  discourse,  reasoning,  argument.  Johnson  defines  it  as  the  '  act  ot 
the  understanding,  by  which  it  passes  from  premises  to  consequences.' 
It  is  this  'discourse  of  reason'  (Hamlet,  i.  2.  150)  which  animals  are 
supposed  to  lack,  the  faculty  of  drawing  a  conclusion  from  premises. 

15.  trust,  belief,  firm  conviction. 

18.  Take  and  give  back  affairs  and  their  dispatch.  The  verbs  and 
substantives  must  be  distributed  here  as  in  Winter's  Tale,  iii.  2. 
164,  165  : 

'  Though  I  with  death  and  with 
Reward  did  threaten  and  encourage  him.' 
And  in  Macbeth,  i.  3,  60: 

'  .Speak  then  to  me,  who  neither  beg  nor  fear 
Your  favours  nor  your  hate.' 
In  the  present  passage  '  take '  goes  with  '  affairs '  and  '  give  back ' 
with  'their  dispatch.'  The  phrase  is  thus  equivalent  to  '  take  a  busi- 
ness in  hand  and  discharge  it."  Collier  followed  the  Perkins  folio  in 
reading '  and  thus  dispatch  affairs,'  and  Dyce,  suspecting  corruption,  pro- 
po.scd  '  affairs  and  them  dispatch.' 


ACT  V.  sc.  I.]  TWELFTH   SIGHT.  l6i 

2  1.  decehhil'U,  deceptive.     So  in  Kichanl  II.  ii.  3.  84: 

'Show  me  thy  humble  heart  .incl  nut  ihy  knee, 
Whose  duty  is  deceivable  and  false.' 
J4.  chantry,   a   private   chapel.     Cowell,    in    his   Interpreter     1607), 
referred  to  by  Steevens,  says  '  Chaxculary  {lanlaria     is  a  Church   or 
chapcU  cndcwed  with  lands  or  other  yearely  revenewe,  for  the  man- 
lenance  of  one  or  nioe  priests,  daily  to  sinjj  masse  for  the  soules  of  the 
ilonours,  and  such  others,  as  they  doe  appointc.' 
/b.  by,  near.      So  in  Sonnet,  cliv.  9 : 

'  This  brand  she  quenched  in  a  cool  well  by.' 
j6.   Plight,  pledge;  as  in  Lucrece,  1690: 

'  Shall  plight  your  honourable  faiths  to  me.' 
The  .Anglo-Saxon  plihtan,  which  seems  to  have  the  meaning  of  under- 
taking at  the  risk  of  some  penalty,  is  et\  mologically  connected  with  thi; 
German  pjlicht,  duty  or  obligation. 

11.  jealous.  In  the  first  folio,  '  iealious.'  See  note  on  Kicharci  111, 
i.  I.  92. 

-'9.  Whiles,  until.  '  While '  is  very  commonly  used  in  this  sense  in 
some  provincial  dialects,  and  in  some  instances  by  Shakespeare  himself. 
.See  Macbeth,  iii.  i.  4^. 

//'.  come  to  note,  become  known,  be  acknowledged. 
30.    W'liat  time,  when.     Compare  },  Henry  \'I,  ii.  5.  3  : 

•  What  time  the  shepherd,  blowing  of  his  nails, 
Can  neither  call   it  perfect  day  nor  night.' 
lb.  the  celebration,  that  is,  the  actual  marriage. 

34.  heavens  so  shine,  &c.  Perhaps  alluding,  say.s  Steevens,  to  the 
old  proverb,  '  Happy  is  the  bride  upon  whom  the  sun  shines.' 

ACT  V. 

Scene  I. 

17.  profit,  become  proficient,  improve.  Compare  Merrj"  Wives,  iv. 
I.  !•; :  '  My  son  profits  nothing  in  the  world  at  his  hook." 

18.  <i/^«jt'</, deceived.     See  iii.  i.  in. 

lb.  conclusions  to  he  as  kisses.  As  it  take>  two  persons  to  make  one 
kiss,  so  two  premisses  are  necessarj-  for  one  conclusion.  Capell  under- 
stands it  to  mean,  '  to  make  conclusions  follow  as  thick  as  kisses  do 
often.'  Warburton  regarded  the  words  as  a  monstrous  absurdity,  and 
after  his  manner  rewrote  them  thus  :  '  so  that.  Conclusion  to  l)e  asked 
is,  if,  &c.'  In  the  Clown's  argument,  the  afTirm.ntive  conclusion  follows 
the  negative  premisses,  as  kisses  follow  upon  refusal. 

19.  y^ur  Jour  negatives,  &c.     For  this  colloiiuial  use  of  'your,'  sec 

M 


1 6a  NOTES.  [act  V 

Antony  and  Cleopatra,  ii.  7.  29  :  '  Your  serpent  of  Egypt  is  bred  now  of 
your  mud  by  the  operation  of  your  sun  :  so  is  your  crocodile.'  The 
Clown  has  still  the  '  four '  lips  of  the  kisses  in  his  mind. 

22.  Bj'  my  troth.     See  i.  3.  4. 

28.  your  grace,  your  virtuous  scrujjles.  Delius  interprets  it,  '  your 
gracious  hand.'  But  the  Clown  means, '  put  aside  your  scruples,  and  let 
your  flesh  and  blood ,  j'our  natural  disposition,  obey  my  evil  counsel.' 

33.  the  triplex,  or  triple  time  in  music 

34.  the  hells  of  Saint  Bennet.  The  allusion  is,  perhaps,  to  some  old 
rhyme  which  has  been  lost :  or  it  may  be  to  the  real  bells  of  St. 
Bennet  Hithe,  Paul's  Wharf,  just  opposite  the  Globe  Theatre. 

f,7.  at  this  throw,  at  this  cast  or  venture.     The  figure  is  from  dice  or 
bowls.     '  Throw '  is  not  likely  to  be  the  Old  English  word  as  used  by 
Chaucer  (Man  of  Law's  Tale,  5373),  in  the  sense  of  '  time ' : 
'  Now  let  us  stint  of  Custance  but  a  throw ' 
4S.  A  ba%vbling  vessel,  a  vessel  of  trifling  and  insignificant  size,  which 
was  called  also  a  bauble  or  bable.     See  Cymbeline  iii.  i.  27  : 

'  His  shipping — 
Poor  ignorant  baubles! — on  our  terrible  seas 
Like  egg-shells  moved  upon  their  surges,  crack'd 
As  easily  'gainst  our  rocks.' 
.Vnd  Troilus  and  Cressida,  i.  3.  35 : 

'  The  sea  being  smooth, 
How  many  shallow  bauble  boats  dare  sail 
Upon  her  patient  breast,  making  their  way 
With  those  of  nobler  bulk ! ' 
In  Strachy's    account   of  the   wreck   of  Sir   Thomas    Gates  in   1610 
(Purchas  his  Pilgrimes,  vol.  iv.  p.  1739),  wc  read,  "It  is  impossible 
without  great  and  perfect  knowledge,  and  search  first  made  of  them  to 
bring  in  a  bable  Boat,  so  much  as  of  ten  Tun  without  apparant  ruine.' 

49.  unprizable,  invaluable,  inestimable.  Johnson  and  others  take  it 
in  the  sense  of  valueless,  as  being  beneath  price ;  but  shallow  draught 
is  not  necessarily  a  defect  in  a  ship,  and  it  was  probably  by  means  of 
this  quality  combined  with  its  small  size  which  enabled  it  to  move 
quickly,  that  the  captain  could  attack  a  much  larger  vessel  with  advan- 
tage, just  as  the  small  English  ships  made  much  '  scathful  grapple  '  with 
the  unwieldy  floating  batteries  of  the  Spanish  Armada.  Cotgrave  (Fr. 
Diet )  gives  '  Impreciable  .  .  .  vnprisable,  vnuaiuable.'  Dr.  Abbott 
(Shakespeare  Grammar,  §  3)  interprets  the  word,  '  not  able  to  be  made 
a  prize  of,  captured ' ;  but  such  a  meaning  is  extremely  doubtful. 

52.  scathful,  harmful,  destructive  ;  from  A.S.  scea'San,  to  harm,  injure. 
Compare  Chaucer,  Man  of  Law's  Tale  {C.  T.  4519),  ed.  Tyrwhitt : 
'  O  scathful   harm,   condition  of  poverte.' 


8C.  i]  TWELFTH   SIGHT.  163 

'Scaihlfss,'  in  the  o])positc  and  passive  sense,  is  of  common  occurrence. 
\\  ith  the  phrase  "make  jjrapple  '  compare  'make  j^ond  view  of  mc," 
ii.  i.  18. 

51.  bottom,  vessel;  still  a  technical  shippiu^j  term.  See  Henry  V, 
iii.  Chorus.  1 2. 

5.'.  the  totigue  of  loss,  the  report  of  the  losers. 

c^^.  fraught,  freight.     Compare  Titus  .\ndronicus,  i.  i.  71  : 
'  I.o,  as  the  bark,  that  hath  discharged  her  fraught.' 

lb.  front  coming  from.     See  The  Tempest,  ii.  i.  243  (Clar.  Press  ed.): 

'  She  that  from  whom 
We  all  were  sea-swallow'd.' 

lb.  Candy.     Candia,  or  Crete. 

56.  the  Tiger  was  a  common  name  for  a  vessel  in  Shakespeare's 
time,  and,  if  we  may  trust  Virgil  ..En.  x.  166]',  even  in  the  days  of 
itneas.     See  note  on  Macbeth,  i.  3.  7. 

58.  desperate  of  shainc  and  state,  recklessly  disregarding  disgrace  and 
the  danger  of  his  position. 

_S9.  brabble,  brawl,  quarrel.  See  Gosson,  Schoole  of  Abuse  (e«l. 
Arber),  p.  26  :  '  Terpandrus,  when  he  ended  the  brabbles  at  Lace- 
d;Emon,  neyther  pyped  Rogero  nor  Turkelony.'  Cotgrave  J""r.  Diet.) 
hiis  '  Noise  :  f.  A  brabble,  brawle,  debate,  wrangle,  squabble,  &c.' 

60.  drew  his  sword,  as  below,  1.  79.  So  in  the  Tempest,  ii.  i.  30S 
(301,  Clar.  Press  ed.)  :  '  Why  are  you  drawn  ?' 

61.  put  strange  speech  upon  me,  addressed  strange  language  to  mc. 
Compare  Measure  for  Measure,  ii.  2    133  : 

'  Why  do  you  put  these  sayings  upon  me  ? ' 
63.  thou  salt-water  thief!     Shylock  (Merchant  of  Venice,  i.  3.  20 
says,    *  There    be    land-rats    and    water-rats,    water-thieves   and    land- 
thieves,  I  mean  pirates.' 

65.  so  dear,  so  perilous,  such  as  will  cost  you  dear.  See  note  on 
Richard  II,  i.  3.  131  : 

'  The  dateless  limit  of  thy  dear  exile.' 

70.  A  witchcraft,  or  irresistible  spell,  as  if  he  had  drunk  a  phijtrc. 
Falstaff  attributed  his  attachment  to  Poins  to  the  same  cause.  See 
I  Henry  IV.  ii.  2.  18-21. 

71.  ingrateful,  ungrateful.     So  in  Lear,  ii.  4.  165  : 

'  All  the  stored  vengeances  of  heaven  fall 
On  her  ingrateful  toj)  I ' 
Shakespeare  uses  both  forms. 

73.  wreck.  Spelt  '  wracke,'  or  ■  wrack,'  in  the  folios,  and  so  pro- 
nounced. 

75.  retention,  reserve. 
77.  pure,  purely,  merely. 

M  2 


164  NOTES.  [actv. 

78.  Info,  nnto.     So  in  Henry  V.  i.  2.  102  : 

'  Look  back  into  your  mighty  ancestors.' 
And  Troilus  and  Cressida,  iii.  3.12: 

'  And  here,  to  do  you  service,  am  become 
As  new  into  the  world.' 
/d.  adverse,  hostile.     Compare  Comedy  of  Errors,  i.  i.  15  : 

'  To  admit  no  traffic  to  our  adverse  towns.' 
82.  to  face  »ie  out  of  his  acquaintance,  impudently  to  pretend  that  he 
did  not  know  me.     See  iv.  2.  89,  90. 
85.  recomw ended,  committed,  entrusted. 
89.  vacancy,  vacant  interval. 

92.  for  thee,  as  for  thee. 

93.  tended,  attended,  waited.  So  in  A  Midsummer  Night's  Dream, 
iii.  I.  158: 

'  The  summer  still  doth  tend  upon  my  state.' 
103.  fat  and  fulsome,  which  properly  belong  to  the  sense  of  taste,  are 
here  applied  to  that  of  hearing.     Warburton  unnecessarily  proposed 
'  flat,'  but  '  fat '  and  '  fulsome '  both  mean  nauseous,  disgusting,  cloying. 

107.  ingrate,  ungrateful,  thankless.     See  King  John,  v.  2.  151  : 

'  And  you  degenerate,  you  ingrate  revolts.' 

108.  hath.  The  folios  here  read  '  have,'  the  substantive  immediately 
preceding  being  in  the  plural,  just  as  in  Julius  Ccesar,  v.  i.  33  : 

'  The  posture  of  your  blows  are  yet  unknown.' 
Capell  reads  '  hath '  and  Pope  '  has,'  but  Shakespeare  most  probably 
wrote  '  have.' 

112.  Like  to  the  Eg}'ptian  thief .  Theobald  pointed  out  that  Shake- 
speare here  refers  to  the  story  of  Theagenes  and  Chariclea  in  the 
lithiopica  of  Heliodorus.  The  hero  and  heroine  were  carried  off  by 
Thyamis,  an  Egyptian  pirate,  who  fell  in  love  with  Chariclea,  and  being 
pursued  by  his  enemies,  shut  her  up  in  a  cave  with  his  treasure.  'WTien 
escape  seemed  impossible,  he  was  determined  that  she  should  not 
survive  him,  and  going  to  the  cave  thrust  her  through,  as  he  thought, 
with  his  sword.     '  If  y"  barbarous    people,'  says    the  Greek    novelist, 

•  be  once  in  despaire  of  their  owne  safetie,  they  haue  a  custome  to  kill  all 
those  by  whome  they  set  much,  and  whose  companie  they  desire  after 
death'  (fol.  20,  ed.  1587).  There  was  an  English  translation  of  Helio- 
dorus by  Thomas  Underdowne,  which  was  licensed  to  Francis  Coldockc 
in  1568-9,  and  of  which  a  copy,  without  date,  is  in  the  Bodleian  Library. 
Another  edition  aj)peared  in  1587,  and  Shakespeare  may  very  well  have 
read  it,  as  it  was  a  popular  book. 

•  114.  sometime,  sometimes.     So  in  Macbeth,  i.  6.  11  : 

'  The  love  ihat  follows  us  sometime  is  our  trouble.' 
Shakespeare  uses  both  forms  indifferently. 


sr. 


I.]  TWELFTH   XIGHT.  16.'', 


//>.  saz'Oiirs  nobly,  has  a  noble  cjuality  in  it.     See  line  30J. 
115.  uon-regardaucc,  disregard,  neglect. 

1 17.  scrcivs,  wrenches  or  wrests  ;  as  by  some  engine.    Compare  Lear, 
i   4.  J90.     The  figure  is  the  same  as  in  Macbeth,  i.  7.  60  : 
'But  screw  your  courage^  to  the  sticking-place.' 
120.  tender,  regard.     Compare  Romeo  and  Juliet,  iii.  i.  74  : 
'And  so,  good  Capulet, — which  name  I  tender 
As  dearly  as  my  own, — be  satisfied.' 
125.  The  dove  and  raven  are  frequently  contrasted.    See  A  Midsummer 
Night's  Dream,  ii.  2.  114  : 

'Who  would  not  change  a  raven  for  a  dove?' 
And  Romeo  and  Juliet,  iii.  2.  76  : 

'  Dovc-feather'd  raven  !  wolvish-ravening  lamb  ! ' 
136.  joiUtui,  apt  and  'willingly,  are  all  adverbs,  although  the  adverbial 
tennination  is  attached  to  the  last  only.     Compare  Antony  and  Cleo- 
patra, v.  1.  ;8 : 

'  How  honourable  and  kindly  we 
Determine  for  her.' 
//'.  apt,  readily. 

127.   To  do  you  rest,  to  give  you  ease. 

1.^2.  life  for  tainting  of  nty  lot'e.     Compare  Othello,  i\.  2.  ifu  : 
•  And  his  unkindness  maj'  defeat  my  life. 
But  never  taint  my  love.' 
//'.  tainting,  that  is,  corrupting,  disgracing,  is  here  a  verbal  noun. 
The  full  fonn  of  the  phrase  would  be  '  for  the  tainting  of  my  love,'  ai  in 
Julius  Czesar,  iii.  i.  51 : 

'  For  the  repealing  of  my  banishctl  brother.' 
The  mojlem  form  wouhl  be  in  each  case,  '  for  tainting  my  love,'  '  for 
repealing  my  banished  brother.'     See  Abliott,  §  93. 

133.  detested.  Sidney  Walker  (Crit.  Kx.  ii,  311)  suggested  that 
*  detested '  here  has  something  of  the  original  sense  of  repudiated, 
renouncetl. 

lb.  beguiled,  deceived.  So  in  Genesis  iii.  13:  'The  scr]>ent  l>e- 
guiled  me,  and  I  did  eat.' 

XT,-,,  forgot,  the  more  usual  form  of  the  participle  in  .Shakespeare. 
141.  strangle  thy  propriety,  suppress  thy  identity,  fearing  to  tell  who 
thou  art.    For  this  sense  of '  strangle,'  compare  Winter's  Tale,  iv.  4.  47  : 
'.Strangle  sucii  thoughts  as  these  with  any  thing 
That  you  l>ehold  the  while.' 
And  for  '  propriety,'  see  Othello,  ii.  3.  176: 

•  It  frights  the  isle 
From  her  propriety,' 
SO  that  no  one  would  rt-cognise  it. 


1 66  NOTES.  [act  v. 

150.  The  'contract'  described  in  the  following  lines  was,  as  Douce 
has  shewn,  the  betrothal  and  not  the  marriage. 

I -^i.  Joindej-,  joining.  The  word  does  not  occur  again,  but  Shake- 
speare has  '  rejoindure '  in  Troilus  and  Cressida,  iv.  4.  38. 

153.  interchangemcnt  of  your  rit^s.  This  was  part  of  the  ceremony 
of  betrothal,  according  to  Douce,  who  quotes  in  illustration  a  passage 
from  Chaucer's  Troilus  and  Creseide,  book  3  [line  1319];  but  it  would 
be  difficult  to  say  whether  the  ceremony  there  described,  which  the  inter- 
change of  rings  accompanied,  was  betrothal  or  marriage. 

154.  compact  has  the  accent  on  the  last  S3'llable  everywhere  in  Shake- 
speare, except  T  Henry  VI,  v.  4.  163  : 

'And  therefore  take  this  compact  of  a  truce.' 
This  would  help  to  shew,  if  evidence  were  wanting,  that  the  play  is  not 
Shakespeare's. 

155.  in  my  function,  in  the  discharge  of  my  office,  which  appears  to 
have  been  that  of  Olivia's  private  chaplain.  See  iv.  3.  24.  In  this 
capacity  he  performed  the  ceremony  and  witnessed  the  betrothal,  one 
witness  being  sufficient  for  this  purpose. 

156.  my  watch.     See  ii.  5.  56. 

159.  case  was  technically  used  for- the  skin  of  an  animal.  See  Florio's 
Second  Frutes,  p.  105  : 

'  And  if  the  Lyons  skinne  doe  faile, 
Then  with  the  Foxes  case  assaile.' 
And  Chapman,  Bussy  d'Ambois  (Works,  ii.  19):  'And  why  not?  as 
well  as  the  Asse,  stalking  in  the  Lions  case,  beare  himselfe  like  a  Lion, 
braying  all  the  huger  beasts  out  of  the  Forrest?'  Again,  in  Holinshed's 
Description  of  Scotland  (ed.  1587),  p.  18:  'There  are  brought  also 
into  Scotland  out  of  these  Hands  great  store  of  sheepes  felles,  oxe  hides, 
gotes  skinnes,  and  cases  of  martirnes  dried  in  the  sunne.' 

165,  little,  a  little.  See  Abbott,  §  S6,  and  for  the  omission  of  'a,' 
ii.  5.  104. 

168.  He  lias.     Printed  '  H'as'  in  the  folios. 

171.  /  had  rather  than  forty  found.  Sir  Andrew  was  willing  to 
spend  twenty  times  as  much  upon  his  safety  as  upon  his  accomplish- 
ments.    See  ii.  3.  19. 

174.  incardinate,  incarnate. 

176.  ^Od's  life  lings.  ''Od's'  of  course  is  for  'God's,'  and  it  is  still 
further  abbreviated  to  '  'S  '  as  in  '  'Sdealh,'  ''Snails,'  &c.  See  iii.  2.  12. 
Sir  Andrew's  mild  oath  is  paralleled  by  Slender's  ' 'Od'.s  heartlings' 
(MeiTy  Wives,  iii.  4.  59),  and  Kosalind's  ''Od's  my  little  life'  (As  You 
Like  It,  iii.  =;.  43). 

iSj.  hespakeyoji,  spoke  to  you,  addressed  you.    See  Hamlet,  ii.  2.  140  : 
'  And  my  young  mistress  thus  I  did  bespeak.' 


SCI.]  TWELFTH  NIGHT.  l6j 

1S3.  sef  nothin^^  by,  do  not  regard,  think  nothing  of.  See  Ecde- 
siasticus.  xx\-i.  2S  :   '  Men  of  ui;dcr>tanilin^  that  arc  not  set  by.' 

184.  italting,  limping.  See  Much  Ado,  i.  i.  66:  'In  our  last  con- 
flict four  of  his  five  wits  went  halting  off.' 

185.  -would  have  tukkJ yoti,  would  have  touchetl  you  up,  ser\ed  you 
out. 

lb.  othergates,  otherwise,  in  another  fashion.  The  word  survives  as 
a  north  country  provincialism.  See  Atkinson's  Glossary  of  the  Cleve- 
land Dialect.  Carr's  Craven  Ublect,  Brockett's  Glossary  of  North 
CountHi-  Words,  &c.  Another  form  is  '  other  guess,  used  in  Somerset- 
shire. Mr.  Atkinson  quotes  from  the  Townley  Mj-steries  (Snrtees 
Si<iety\  p.  TO  : 

'  For  he  has  ever  yit  beyn  my  fo, 
For  had  he  my  freynd  beyn 
Other  gates  it  had  bejii  seyn.' 
1S8.  all  one.     See  i.  5.  121. 
lb.  has.     See  i.  5.  1.^9. 

1 90.  agonc,  ago.  See  i  .Samuel  xxx  13:'  My  master  left  me,  be- 
ciuse  tJiree  da\  s  agone  I  fell  sick.' 

191.  set.  Compare  The  Tempest,  iii.  2.  10  .  'Thy  eyes  are  almost  set 
in  thy  head.' 

192.  and  a  passy  mtasures  favin.  The  first  folio  has  'and  a  passy 
measures  panyn' ;  the  later  folios.  '  after  a  passy  measures  Pavin.'  It  is 
most  likely  that  '  pa*Tn  '  is  the  right  reading,  and  that  '  panyn  '  in  the 
first  folio  is  a  misprint  for  '  pauyn."  A  pavin,  pavine,  or  pavane,  was  a 
stately  dance,  apparently  of  Spanish  or  Italian  origin  ;  the  opposite  of 
a  galliard.  Compare  Ben  Jonson,  Alchemist  iv.  2 :  '  Your  Spanish 
pavin  the  best  d.ance.'  Florio  in  his  \Vorl<le  of  Wordes  J.=;o8'y  gives 
'  Pavana,  a  dance  called  a  pauine.'  And  in  his  Second  Frutes  (I59i)> 
p.  119:  '  Hee  danceth  verie  well,  both  galiards,  and  pauins.'  Ciosson  in 
his  Schoole of  Abuse  ;  1.^79'.  ed.  Arber,  p.  26,  speaking  of  the  wonderful 
effects  of  music,  asks  :  '  Thinke  you  that  those  miracles  coulde  bee 
wrought  with  plajing  of  Dannces,  Fhmipes,  Pauins,  Galiardes,  Meiisures. 
Fancyes,  or  new  streyues?'  Richardson  quotes  from  Sir  Thomas 
Eliot's  Govemonr,  b.  i.  c  20  i^fol.  68/',  ed.  15S0] :  '  In  steede  of  these 
we  haue  now  base  dances,  bargenettes,  pauyons,  turgyons,  and  roundes.' 
And  from  Sidney's  Arcadia,  b.  3  [p.  321;,  ed.  1598  :  'And  with  that 
turning  vp  his  mustachoes,  and  marching  as  if  he  would  liegin  a  pauen, 
he  went  toward  Zelmane.*  It  appears  from  this  last  passage  that  the  pavin 
was  d.anced  with  a  slow  and  stately  step,  as  is  indicated  by  the  epithet 
'pas-sy  measures,'  a  corruption  of  the  Italian  passamc-.io,  which  Klorio 
defines,  '  a  passameasure  in  dancing,  a  cinque  jKice.'  In  a  .M.S.  list  of 
old  dances.  Collier  found  '  The  passinge  measure  Pavyon.'     'Ihe  ety- 


1 68  NOTES.  [actv. 

mology  of  '  pavin '  is  not  certain.  Skinner  derives  it  from  Pavia,  Douce 
I'rom  Padua.  There  certainly  was  an  Italian  dance  called  Padoana,  and 
Torriano  in  his  Italian  Dictionary  identifies  it  with  the  pavin  or  pavan. 
'  Padoana,  a  padovan,  a  pavan-dance.'  But  in  one  of  the  authorities 
appealed  to  by  Douce,  Alford's  Instructions  for  the  Lute  (1568),  a 
Paduane  and  a  Pa  vane  are  both  mentioned.  Another  guess  is  that  of 
Sir  John  Hawkins,  in  his  History  of  Music  :  'The  pavan  from  pai'o  a 
peacock,  is  a  grave  and  majestic  dance.'  But  the  question  now  arises, 
if  a  pavin  was  a  grave  and  stately  dance,  and  the  epithet  'passy 
measures '  describes  the  step  used  in  dancing  it,  what  does  Sir  Toby 
mean  by  calling  the  surgeon  '  a  passy  measures  pavin '  ?  It  is  not  neces- 
sary always  to  find  meaning  in  what  a  drunken  man  says,  but  Malone  is 
jjfobably  not  far  wrong  in  interpreting  Sir  Toby  as  calling  the  surgeon 
'  a  grave,  solemn  coxcomb,'  by  applying  to  him  the  name  of  a  formal 
(lance  for  which  he  had  a  special  dislike.  He  might  also  possibly 
refer  to  the  slow  pace  of  the  surgeon  in  coming  to  attend  him. 

19S.  Will yoii  help?  an  ass-hcad,  &c.  .  .  .gull!  Malone's  punctua- 
tion. The  folios  read  :  '  Will  you  helpe  an  Asse-hcad,  &c.  .  .  .  gull?' 
Malone,  however,  thinks  that  all  these  epithets  were  intended  for  the 
surgeon,  or  Sebastian.  Bui  they  surely  must  be  addressed  to  Sir  Andrew, 
Sir  Toby  being  very  candid  in  his  drink. 

199.  a  Ihin-faccd  knave,  like  Master  Slender  in  the  Merry  Wives 
(i.  4.  22),  who  had  'a  little  wee  face,'  and  between  whom  and  Sir 
Andrew  there  are  many  points  of  resemblance.  The  Bastard  Faulcon- 
bridge,  in  King  John  (i.  i),  makes  merry  ovtr  his  brother's  thin  face. 

III.  a  gull.     See  iii.  2.  63. 

204.  regard,  look.     See  ii.  5.  49,  62. 

206.  for,  the  sake  of. 

20.^.  a  statural  perspective.  It  was  the  property  of  '  artificial  perspec- 
tives' to  appear  to  represent  one  thing  and,  when  properly  used,  to  shew 
another.  In  Shakespeare's  time  there  were  several  kinds  of  these 
optical  toys.  Douce  {Illustrations  Sec.)  refers  to  Reginald  Scot's  Dis- 
covery of  Witchcraft  (B.  xiii.  ch.  19),  for  an  account  of  these.  See  note 
in  the  Clarendon  Press  edition  of  Richard  II,  ii.  2.  18.  The  accent  in 
'  perspective '  is  on  the  first  syllable. 

220.  Of  here  and  everywhere,  whose  attribute  is  omnipresence. 

2  22.   Of  charity,  for  charity's  sake. 

226.  suited,  dressed.  So  in  The  Merchant  of  Venice,  i.  2.  79  :  '  How 
oddly  he  is  suited!'     And  Cymbeline,  v.  i.  23: 

'  I'll  disrobe  me 
Of  these  Italian  weeds,  aiul  suit  myself 
As  does  a  Briton  peasant.' 

229.  dimension.     .See  i.  5.  246. 


sc.  I.]  TWELFTH   NIGHT.  169 

230.  participate,  partake  of  in  common  with  others. 

231.  goes  et>en,  acconis.  aj^et'S.  See  Cvmbelinc,  i.  4.  47:  'I  was 
then  a  young  traveller;  rather  shunned  to  jjo  even  with  what  I  heard, 
than  in  my  every  action  to  be  guided  by  others'  experiences.' 

238.  record  has  the  accent  on  the  last  syllable,  as  in  Hamlet,  i  ■;.  99  : 
'I'll   wipe  away  all  trivial  fond  records.' 
Shakespeare  also  uses  it,  but  less  commonly,  with  the  accent  on  the  first 
>yllable,  as  in  Sonnet,  Iv.  5  : 

'The  living  records  of  your  memory.' 
^41.  lets,  hinders.     Compare  Hamlet,  i.  4.  85  : 

'  By  heaven,  I'll  make  a  ghost  of  him  that  lets  me  !' 
24 J.  usurp' J.     See  i.  5.  176. 

244.  Jump,  exactly  agree  (to  prove).  Compare  The  Taming  of  the 
Shrew   i.  i.  195 : 

'  Both  our  inventions  meet  and  jump  in  one.' 
The  adverb  'jump'  occurs  in  the  sense  of  just,  exactly,"  in  Hamlet,  i.  1. 
65  :  '  And  jumj)  at  this  dead  hour  ' ;  where  the  Folios  read  'just.' 

246,  247.  to  a  captain  .  .  .  where,  Sec.  Mr.  Grant  White  reads 
'captain's,'  following  Collier's  MS.  Corrector;  but  'where'  is  used 
loosely  for  'At  whose  house,'  or  refers  immetliately  to  '  town.' 

247.  weeds,  garments ;  Anglo-Sa.\on  weed.  Now  only  used  of  a 
widow's  dress.  See  line  267,  and  compare  A  Midsummer  Night's  Dream, 
ii.  I.  256: 

'  Weed  wide  enough  to  wrap  a  fairy  in.' 
J48.  preserved.     I'heobald  reads  '  preferr'd,'  referring  to  i.  2.  55,  56  : 

'  I'll  serve  this  duke  : 
Thou  shall  present  me,'  &c. 
249.  All  the  occurrence  of  >ny  fortune,  all  that  has  happened  in  the 
course  of  my  fortune.     Hanmer  reads  '  occurrents,'  as  in  Hamlet,  v.  2. 
368.      In  Macbeth,  i.  7.  11,  the  first  folio  has  '  Ingredience'  for  'in- 
gredients.' 

251.  mistook,  mistaken.  .See  Merr)' Wives,  iii.  3.  iir  'Out  upon 
you  I  how  am  I  mistook  in  you  ! ' 

256.  right  noble  is  his  blood.  It  appears  from  i.  2.  28  thai  Se- 
bastian's family  was  known  to  the  Duke. 

257.  yet,  notwithstanding  that  it  may  appear  impossible. 
261.  over-swear,  swear  over  again. 

363.  As  doth  that  orbed  continent  the  fire,  Sec.  It  is  doubtful  whether 
by  '  orbed  continent'  is  to  be  understood  the  sun  itself,  which  is  called 
'orbed'  from  its  globular  shajie  (compare  'the  orbetl  earth,'  Ix)ver's 
Complaint,  25  ,  or  the  vaulted  firmament  which  contains  the  orbs  or 
spheres  of  the  celestial  bodies,  '  the  fire,"  in  this  case,  being  the  sun.  It 
appears  to  be  commonly  assumed  that  the  former  view  is  the  correct 


1 70  NOTES.  [act  v. 

one;  but  as  Shakespeare  (Coriolanus,  i.  4.  39)  makes  Coriolanns  swear 
'  by  the  fires  of  heaven,'  that  is,  the  stars  and  other  heavenly  bodies,  it 
seems  more  natural  to  take  '  fire,'  in  the  present  passage,  as  metaphor- 
ically used  for  the  sim  and  not  the  element,  fire ;  in  which  case  '  orbed 
continent '  must  mean  the  firmament.  But  there  is  almost  as  much  to 
be  said  in  favour  of  one  view  as  of  the  other. 

267.  tijjon  some  action,  in  consequence  of  some  action.  Compare 
Julius  Csesar,  iv.  3.  152  :  'Upon  what  sickness?'  And  Coriolanus,  ii.  i. 
244  :   'Upon  their  ancient  malice.' 

270.  enlarge  him,  set  him  at  liberty.     See  Henry  V,  ii.  2.  40  : 

'  Enlarge  the   man  committed  yesterday.' 

271.  /  remcinber  me.  'Remember,'  like  'endeavour,'  'repent,' 
'  submit,'  and  other  verbs  which  are  now  intransitive,  was  once  used  as 
a  reflexive.  Compare  i  Henry  IV,  ii.  4.  468  :  '  And  now  I  remember 
me,  his  name  is  Falstaff.'  And  the  Prayer  Book  Version  of  Psalm  xxii. 
27  :  'All  the  ends  of  the  world  shall  remember  themselves.' 

272.  distract,  distracted.     So  in  Hamlet,  iv.  5.  2  : 

'She  is  importunate,  indeed  distract.' 

273.  extracting  \%  the  reading  of  the  first,  and  'exacting'  of  the  later 
folios.  Malone  at  one  time  proposed,  with  [lanmer,  to  read  '  distract- 
ing,' but  he  afterwards  found  an  example  of  'extract'  which,  to  his 
mind,  supported  the  old  reading.  It  is  in  The  Historic  of  Hamblet 
(1608),  sig.  C  3,  verso  'To  try  if  men  of  great  account  bee  extract 
out  of  their  wits.'  Warburton  rightly  interpreted  '  a  most  extracting 
frenzy '  to  mean  '  a  frenzy  that  drives  me  away  from  everything  but 
its  own  object.' 

277.  has.     See  above,  1.  188. 

lb.  writ,  written.     See  iii.  4.  37. 

279.  it  skills  not,  it  matters  not,  makes  no  difference.  Compare 
2  Henry  VI.  iii.  i.  281  : 

'It  skills  not  greatly  who  impugns  our  doom.' 
Ill  Icelandic  skilja  signifies  '  to  divide,  separate  ';  and  skill,  '  it  differs. 

282.  delivers  the  tnadman,  utters  what  the  madman  writes. 

2S6.  you  must  allow  Vox.  Malone  explains,  '  If  you  would  have  it 
read  in  character,  as  such  a  mad  epistle  ought  to  be  read,  you  must 
permit  me  to  assume  a  frantick  tone.'  If  the  Clown  means  anything  it 
is  perhaps  something  of  this  sort. 

2 88.  to  read  his  right  wits.  Johnson  i  eedlessly  suggested  'to  read 
his  wits  right.' 

2S9.  fcrpcnd,  consider;  a  Pistolian  word.  See  Merry  Wives,  ii.  i. 
119:  'He  loves  the  gallimaufry:  Ford,  perpend.' 

302.  savours.     Seel.  ii-i.  , 

306.  the  alliance  on  '/,  the  (loublc  marriage  by  which  this  rehtionship 


tc.  I.]  TWELFTH   XI GUT.  1  7  1 

is  broi'ght  about.  Heath  thought  '  on't '  nonsense.  an<l  proposed  '  an  "t 
so  please  you.' 

307.  "ly  proper  cost,  my  own  expense.  See  2  Henry  VI,  i.  i.  Tii  : 
'Of  the  King  of  England's  own  proper  cost  and  charges,'  where  the 
tautology.'  is  due  to  the  language  of  a  legal  document. 

30S.  apt,  ready.     See  above,  1.  !.•''). 

309.  tjuits you,  sets  you  free,  dismisses  you. 

320.  from  it,  dilTerently  from  it.     See  i.  5.  1  79. 

327.  lighter,  inferior,  less  important. 

328.  tilting  this  in  an  obedient  hope.  The  construction  is  the  same 
as  above,  1.  So. 

331.  geek,  a  simpleton,  dupe.     Compare  Cymbeline,  v.  4.  G-  : 
'  And  to  become  the  geek  and  sconi 
O'  th'  other's  villany.' 
In  Anglo-Saxon  geae,   Middle   Knglish  geie,  is  a  cuckoo,  and   this   is 
always  said  to  be  the  origin  of  our  word  ;  but  the  cuckoo  of  real  life  is 
.inything  but  a  dupe. 
//'.  ,?«//     See  iii.  2.  63. 

337.  earnest.  The  omission  of  the  second  personal  pronoun  is  not 
uncommon,  especially  in  questions.  See  ii.  3.  24,  107,  and  Timon  ol 
Athens,  i.  1.  276:  •  Shouldst  have  kept  one  to  thyself,  for  I  mean  to 
give  thee  none.'     Also  The  Tempest,  ii.  i.  220. 

338.  presupposed,  imposed,  or  suggested  beforehand  as  being  what 
you  were  likely  to  adopt. 

340.  preutice,  plot,  artifice. 

lb.  most  shre-wdly,  most  mischievously,  wickedly. 
//'.  pass'd  upon  thee,  imposeil  upon  thee,  played  the  fool  with  thee. 
See  iii.  i.  4I,  and  compare  'passages  of  grossness,'  lii.  2.  66. 

349.  Upoti,  in  consequence  of.     See  1.  267. 

lb.  some  stubbo7-n  and  uneourteous  parts,  &c.  That  is,  some  harsh 
and  uncivil  conduct  which  we  had  interpreted  unfavourably  to  him. 
.Schmidt  ^Shakesp.  Lexicon  takes  this  as  a  relative  clause,  as  if  it  were 
'  this  device  .  .  .  which  upon,  &c.  ...  we  had  conceived  against  him.' 
Tyrwhitt  conjectured,  '  which  we  conceived  in  him,'  and  this  gives  no 
doubt  an  easier  sense. 

350.  writ,  wrote,  the  more  frequent  form  both  of  the  preterite  and 
participle  in  Shakespeare.     See  1.  277. 

351.  Sir  Toby's.  Fabian  appears  to  have  invented  this  to  screen 
Maria. 

lb.  importance,  imj)ortuiiity,  urging.     .So  in  King  John.  ii.  1.  7  : 
'At  our  import.anpe  hither  is  become'' 

352.  he  hath  married  her,  though  a  short  time  licfore  be  was  ho|ie- 
lessly  drunk,  and  sent  off  to  lied  to  get  his  wounds  heale<l. 


T72  NOTES.  [actv.  sc.  I. 

354.  phtck  on,  draw  on  as  its  consequence,  excite.  Compare  King 
John,  iii.  i.  57  : 

'  And  with  her  golden  hand  hath  pluck'd  on  France 
To  tread  down  fair  respect  of  sovereignty.' 
357-  poor  fool  was  not  an  expression  of  mere  contempt,  as  is  evident 
from  Lear,  v.  3.  305  :   '  And  my  poor  fool  is  hang'd  ! '  where  Lear  is 
speaking  of  Cordelia. 

lb.  baffled,  treated  ignominiously  ;  as  Malvolio  had  thought  to  treat 
Sir  Toby  (\\.  5.  146).     See  Richard  II,  i.  1.  170. 

359.  thrown  is  thought  by  some  to  be  an  error  either  of  author  or 
printer  for  '  thrust.'  But  Staunton  supposes  that  these  variations  in  the 
Clovra's  speech  were  purposely  introduced  by  Shakespeare,  '  possibly 
from  his  knowing,  by  professional  experience,  the  difficulty  of  quoting 
with  perfect  accuracy.'  It  is  more  likely  that  he  was  quite  indifferent 
in  the  matter,  for  in  All's  Well,  v.  3.  313,  where  Helena  reads  from  a 
written  letter,  she  varies  from  the  same  document  as  given  in  iii.  2. 

360.  all  one.     See  i.  5.  121. 
366.  abused.     See  1.  18. 

369.  convents,  convenes,  summons.  There  is  no  evidence  for  the 
meaning  '  agrees,  is  suitable,'  though  the  analogy  of  '  convenient '  may 
have  been  in  .Shakespeare's  mind.  From  •  convent,'  to  summon,  the 
transition  is  easy  to  the  following  passage  in  Beaumont  and  Fletcher 
(The  Knight  of  Malta,  i.  3),  where  'conventing'  signifies  '  meeting  by 
summons ' : 

'  'Tis  well.     Our  next  occasion  of  conventing 
Are  these  two  gentlemen.' 

375.  fancy  s.     See  i.  i.  14. 

376.  The  Song,  as  Farmer  says,  is  an  old  one  scarcely  worth  cor- 
rection. It  was  probably  introduced  by  the  actor  of  the  Clown's  part. 
.See  what  is  said  of  the  song  in  Act  ii.  Sc.  4.  Nevertheless,  Farmer 
went  so  far  as  to  correct  '  knaves  and  thieves '  to  '  knave  and  thief,' 
and  to  approve  llanmer's  reading  '  bed  .  .  .  head'  for  '  beds  .  .  .  heads.' 

lb.  and,  used  redundantly  in  old  ballads,  as  in  Lear,  iii.  .»,  where  the 
Fool's  song  has  the  same  burden  as  this.  Mr.  Chappell,  in  his  Popular 
Music  of  the  Olden  Time,  p.  225,  gives  both  words  and  music. 


THE   END. 


•  OF 

ENGLISH    CLASSICS. 

(chronologically  arranged.) 

Chancer.  I.    '/'A^  Prologue  to  the  Canterbury  Tales.     {School  Edition.) 
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Minot.  The  Poems  of  I.aurejue  Minot.  Edited,  with  Introduction 
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Knight,  LL.U.,  University  of  St.  Andrews.  .         .     [Extra  fcap.  Svo,  zi.  6rt'. 


Typical  Selections  fom  the  best  English  IVriters.     Secoml  Edition. 
In  Two  Voluiuo [Extra  fcap.  Svo,  3.S.  dd.  each. 


£onJ)on:    HENRY   FROWDE, 

Om-oku  Umversiiv  Press  Warehouse,  Amen  Corner,  E.C. 

(BbinBurg^:    i-  Frederick  Street. 

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