William Michael Rossetti William Shakespeare.

The complete works of Shakespeare: With a critical biography online

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out for the lion's claws. And, most dear actor.s,
eat no onions, nor garlic, for we are to utter bw et
breath; and I do not doubt but to hear them say
it is a sweet comedy. No more words ; awar go,
away. [Exeunt,


SCENE t'-Aihent^^An Apartment in ike Palace
of These Ui)

Slier Thbsbus, HiPF0LTTA,PniL09nuTB, Lords,
and Attendants.

JSfjpu *Tis strange, my Theseus, that these lovers
speak of.

The, Mure strange than true. I never may
Tbeae antique fables, nor these fairy toys.
Lovers and madmen have such seething brains.
Such shaping fantasies, that apprehend
More than cool reason ever comprehends.
The lunatic, the lover, and the poet,
Arc of imagination all compact :
One sees more devils than vaitt hell can hold —
That is the madman: the lover, all as frantic,
Bees Ueleii% beauty in a brow of Egypt:
The po«t*s eye, in a fine frensy roliutfc,
Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to

And, as imagination bodies forth
The forms of things unknown, the poet*s pen
Turns them to shape-*, and gives to airy nothing
A local habitation and a name.
Such tricks hnth strong imagination;
That, if it would but apprehend some joy.
It comprehends some bringer of that j.iy ;
Or, in the night, imagining some fear,
How cany is a buKh supposM a bear I

Hip. But all the story of the night told over
And ail their minds transfigurM so together.
Mo* a witneasetb than fiincy's images.
And grows to something of great constancy;
Bat, howsoever, strange, and admirable.

J«itar Ltsavdsb, Demetiuus, Hebuu, amd

Tkt. Here come the lovers, full of joy and mirth.
Joy, centle friends I joy, and fresh days of love,
Aocompany yoor hearts I

I^f9, More than to us

Wail in your royal walks, your b >ard, your bed !

The. Come now; what ma^ks, what dances,
shall we have.
To wear away this long age of three hours,
Between our after^upper and bedtime?
Where is our U'^uai manager of mirth?
What revels are in hand? Is there no pixy.
To ease the anguish of a torturing hour?
Ca*i i'nih. strata.

Fhduet, Here, mighty Theseus.

The, Say, what abridgment have yon for this
What mank, nhtt music? How shall we beguile
The Uzv time, if not with some delight ?

FhUo$t. There it> a brief, ho w many sports are rife;

Make choice of which your highne^ii will tfn firat.

fG icing a paper,

Lya, [Reads] ** The battle with ibe Centaurs
to be bUng,
By an Athenian eunuch to the harp.**

The. We'll none of that • that have I told my
In glory of my kinsman Hercules.

Lys. ** The riot of the tipsy Bacchanals,
Tearing the Tliracian singt^r in their rage."

The. That ii an old device, and it vftm |>l!iy*d
When I from Thebes came last a coni|Ueror.

Ly$. ** The thrice three Musea mourning for the
Of learning, late deceas*d in beggary."

The, That is some satire, keen and critical,
Not sorting with a nui»tial ceremony.

Ly$. " A tedious brief scene of young Pyramna
Ano his love Thisbe; very tragical roirtb.**

The, Merry and tragical? Tedious and brief?
That is, hot ice, and wunderous strange snow.
How shall we find the concord of this discord ?

Phihst. A play tbcrf is, my lord, stmu ten
words long;
Which is as brief as I have known a play ;
But by ten words, my lord, it is too long,
Which makes it tedious . for in all the play
There is not one word apt, one player fitted.
And tragical, my noble lord, it is;
For Pyramus therein doth kill himself.
Which when I saw rehears'd, I must confess,
Made mine eyes water ; but more merry tears
The nasnion of loud laughter never shed.

The What are they that do play it ? [hero,

Philost. Hard-handed men, thai woik in Alliens
Which never laboured in their mindtt till now;
And now have toil'd their unbrfath'd memories
With this same play, against your nuptial.

The. And we will hear it.

Philost, No, my noble lord,

It ia noi for yoa: I have heard it over.
And it is nothing, nothing in the world
(Unless you can find spori in th«;ir intents),
Extremely stretoh'd and conn*d with cruel psiHi
To Ho you service.

The. I will hear that play;

For never anything can be amijd r ^ ^^^^^T^
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'When simpleneM and datj tender it.

Go, bring them in : and take your places, ladies.


Hip. I love not to see wretclmduess oWcharg'd,
And duiv in his service perishing. ['hii^g.

The. Why, gentle sweet, yoa shall pee no ouch

Bip, He says, they can do nothing in this kind.

Tm. The kinder we, to give them thanks for
Oar sport shall be, to take what they mistake :
Ani what p»or duty cannot do,
Noble respect takes it in might, not merit.
Where I have come, great clerks have purposed
To grept me with premeditated welcomes ;
Where I have seen them shiver and look pale.
Make periods in the midst of sentences.
Throttle their practisM accent in iheir fears,
And, in conclusion, dumbly have broke off^
Not paying me a weloomf : Trust me sweet,
Out of this silence yet I picked a welcome ;
And in the modesty of fearful dntj
I read as much, as from the rattling tongue
Of saucy and audacious eloquence.
Love, therefore, and tongue-tied simplicity,
In least speak most, to my cspacity.

Enter Philostratb.

PhUost. 80 please your grace, the prologue is

TAs. Let biro approach. [Floumh 0/ trumpets.

Enter Prologue.

Frot If we offend, it is with our good will.

That you should Uiink we oomt) nJb to offend,
Bui with good will To show our simple bUH.

That is Uie tone ijegiiiDing ( f our end.
OoDBider, then, we oomu but in despite.

We do not oome as miudmg to content yoo,
Our true intent is. A il for your deligiit.

We are not here. That yuu «hould here repent yoa.
The acti>rB are at hand ; and, by thuir show.
You shall know aU that jou axe like to know.

The. This fellow doth not stand upon points.

Lye He hath rid his prologue like a rough colt;
he knows not the stop. A good moral, my lord :
It U not enough to speak, but to speak true.

ffyp. Indeed he hath played on bis prologue
like a child on a reoorder ; a sound, but not in

The. His speech was like a tanf^led chain;
nothing impaired, but all disordered. Who is next ?

Enter Pt&ami/s and Thisbb. Wall, Mookshihc,
and LlUN, ae in dumb show

fhrcl Oentlea. perhaps you wondei at thin show ;

But wonder on, till truth m^ku all things plain.
This man in Pyraniiis. if you would knuw ;

This be«uto <u-> lady Thisby is. oert»i<i.
This man. with lime and rough cast, doth inwent

WtM tliiU. villi WaII. which did thmM> lovars sntider t


The. 1 wonder, if the lion be to speak.
Dem, No wonder, my lord : one liou may, when
many asses do.

WaU. In this same interlude. It doth befall.
Tnat I. one Suout by uamS, present a wall :
And such a wall as I would have you think*
That had in it a cranny hole, or oAtnk,
Through which the lovers. Pyramns and Thfataif,
Did whisper often very secretly.
This loam, this rouxh-east. and this stone dolh ibow
That I am that same wall ; the truth is so :
And this the cranny Is, right and sinister.
Through which the fearful lorers are to whisper.

The. Would yoa desire lime and hair to speaJc

I^eoi. It is the wittiest partition that ever I beard
discourse, my lord.

The. Pyramus draws near the wall ; silenoe.

Enter Pybamub

P]/r. O gtim4ook'd night t O night with hue so black I

night, which ever art when day is not I
O night, O niKht, alack, alack, alack,

1 fear my Tbtsby*s promise is foivot

And thou, O wall, thou sweet and lovely wait
That stands between her father's ground and mins^

Thou wall, O wall, O sweet and lovely wall.
Show me thy chink, to blink throuvh with mine eyns

[ Wall holds up hie fingers

Thanks, courteous wall : Jove shield thee well for thisi

But what see I ? No Thisby do I see.
O wicked wall, through whom I see no bliss;

Cur8*d be ihiy stones for thus deceiving me 1

The. The wall, methinks, being sensible, shoalil
curse sgain.

Bot. N<>, in trnth, sir, he should not. ** Deoaiv-
ing me*' is Thisby^s cue : she is to enter now, and
I am to spy her thruneb the wall. You shall see,
it will fall pat as I told you: Yonder she oomea.

Enter Thisbb.

TMs. O wan. full often hast thou heard my
For parking my fair Pyramus and me :

My cherry lips have (ifte>i kiae'd thy stones :
Thy stones with lime and hair knit up in tl

Pvr. I see a voice : now will I to the otiiuk»
To spy an I can hear my Thisby's face.
Thisby I

This. My love t thou art my love. I think.

Pvr. Think wbat thou wilt, I am thj lover's
And like Umander aw 1 tru-^ty stilL

Thi$. And I like Helen till the fates me kill,

Pvr. Not Shafdlus to Prooru-t was so true.

This. As Shafalua to Proci us, I to you

Pur. O. kisH me tbrou^h the hole of this vile waU.

TM* I kiss the wall's hole, not your Ups at all

Pvr. Wilt thou at Ninny's torobmeet me stiaishtwaf

TnU Tide Ufa 'tide death. I ct>me without dt^luy.

IVall Thus have I. Wall, my part discharged so ;
And. being done, thus Wall away doth go.

[Exeunt Wall, Ptuamub, and Thisbb.
The. Now is the mural down between the two

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Tbeo know Ui«t I. one Bong the joiner, am
A lion fell, nor else no lion's d»ro :
Vor if I Bhoukl as lion oome in strife
Into Uiis plaoe, '% wtue pitj of m j life.
The A very geotlo beast, and of a good

Dem. The Terj best at a beatt, my lord, that
e*er I law.
Im$. Th!^ Itoo is a very fol for his valoar.
The. Troe ; and a goose for his discretion.
Dem Kot so, my lord ; for his ralour cannot
earry bis discretion ; and the (ox carries the goose.
The. His discretion, I am sure, cannot carry
his VAlonr; for the goose carries not the (ox. It
is well. leave it to his discretion, and let ns
hearken to the moon.
Moom Tikis lantern doth the homed moon present.
Dm. He should have worn the horns ou his

The. He is no ore scent, and his horns are invi
Bible within the circumference.

Moon. Thla bntera doth the horned moon present *
Mfself the man i ih' moon do seem to be.

The. This is the Kreatest error of all the rest •
the man should he put into the lantern How is
it else the man i* the moon 7

Dem He dares not come there for the candle
for. voo see, it is already in snoff.

Eip I am weary of this moon . Would he would

The, It appears, by his f>mall light of discretion,
Ibat he is in the wane t»ut yet, m courtesy, in
all reason, we mast stay the time.

Lys. Proceed, moon.

Ifoofi. All that I have to say Is to tell yoo. that the
lantern is the moon ; I, the roan in the moon ; this Uiora-
bnsh, my thom-hnah ; and Uals dog, my dog.

Dem, Why, all these should be m the lantern ;
tor they are in the moon. But, silence, here
oomes Thisbe.

Enter Tbimbu,

ThU. This is old Nlnny^ tomb; Where wi my love*
Lkm. Oh-.

[The LiOM roars— Thisbb rtms oj^,

DewL Well roared, lion.
The, Well run, Thisbe.

Jdip, Well shone, moon. Truly the moon shines
with a good grace.

The. Well moused, lion.

[The LiOM teare Thi8BB*& maniUj and exit
Dem. And then (»me Pyranius.
LjfM, And so the lion vanisheil.

.^ifer Ptbamus.

Ffir Street moon, I thank thee for thy sunny beams

1 thank tbee, moon, for shining now so bright ;
tx r. by thy graoioaa. golden, glaterinx streams,
1 trust to taste of truest Thisby's sU^k
But stay ;— O spite I
But mark :— Poor knight,
What dreadful dole is here I

Eyes, do you see f
How can it be?

O dainty dndil O dear I

Tby mantle good.

What. sUiD'd with blood
Approach, ye furies fell I

O fates I come oome ;

Oni thread and ihrum :
Quail, onisti. conclude, and qudU 1

The. Thit psM^ion, and ihf death ot a dear friend,
wooid go near to make a man l<N»k sad.
D^^ Beibrew my heart, but I pity the man.

PjfT. O wherefore. NHture. didst thou linns frame t

Hince lion rile hath here deflour'd my d<-ar :
Which is— DO. no —which was the fairest dame.
That Ur'd. that lor'd. that lik'd. that look'd with
Come, tears, confound ;
Out, sword, and wound
The pap of i^rnmns :
Ay. that left pap
Wheru heart doth hop.^
Thus die I, thus, thus, thus.
Kow am I dead.
Now am I fled :
My soul ill in the sky :
Tongue, lose thi^ light 1
Moon, take tby flight 1
Nowdie.diebdie, die. die.

[Dtea.^ExU MooifSHnrs.

Dem. No die, but an see, for him; for he is but

Lye. Lees than an ace, man ; for be is dead ; ha
is no'hins:.

The With the help of a surgeon, he might yet
recover, and prove an ass.

B^. How chance Moonshine is gone, before
Thiribe comes haclc and finds her lover ?

The. She will find him by starlight.— Hero she
oomes i and her passion ends the play.

Ente9 Thisbb.

Hip. Methinks, she should not nsa a long one
for such a Pyramus: I hope she will be brief

Dem. A mote will turn the ba'ance, which Pyra-
mu->, whieh Thisbe, is the better.

Lye 8he hath spied him already with those
ttweft eyes.

Dem And thus she moans, mdelicH.

TkU. Asleep, my loreT

What. dfad. mydore?
O Pyramns. arise,

^:peak. speak. Quite dumb t

Dead, dead t A ton>b
Most cover tby sweet eyea.

These lily lips.

This cherry nose,
niese yellow cowslip cheeks.

Are gone, are gone :

Lovers, make moan 1
His eyes were green as leeka

O sisters three.

Oome. come to me.
With bands as pale as milk ;

Lay them in gore.

bince you hare shore
With shears his thread of bUk.

Tongue, not a word :

Oome. trusty sword :
Oome, blade, my lireust imbrue.

And farewell, friends;

Thus Thisbe ends .'
Adieu, adieu adieu. [Dies

The, Moonshine and Lion are left to bury the

Dem. Ay, and Wall too.

Bot. No, I assure ym; the wall is down that
parted their fathers. Will it please you to see the
epilogue, or to hear % Bergomask dance, between
two of our company ?

The, No epilogue, I pray you; for your play
need** no excuse. Never excuse; for when the
players are all ''ead, there need none to be blamed.
Marry, if he that writ it had played Pyramus,
and hanged himself in Thisbe s garter, it would
have been a fine tragedy and so it is, truly , and
very notably discharged. But oome, your Bergo-
mask let your epilogue alone.

[Here a danet ^Clowna
The iron tongne of midnight hath told twelve: —
Lovers to bed . *tis almost fairy liine.
I fear we shall ou's'eep the c<»miiig morn.
As much as we this ^ht have overwatched ■ p


This paipable-fp-oas play hath waII hf^mrd

The ht^avy gait of night. — Hweot fiieDds, to

iM»d —
A fortnight hold we this polcmnity,
In uightlj revels, and new jollity.


Enter Puck.

Puck, Now the huni^ry Hon roars,

And the wolf kMshowU the moon ;
WhiUt the heavy ploughman soures.

All with weary ta»k fordone.
Now the watted brands do slow,

Whilst thescritch-owl, scriiching loud,
Pur«t the wretch, that lies in woe,

In remembrance of a shroud.
Now, it is the lime of night,

That the graves, all gaping wide,
Every one If ts forth his oprite,

III the church-way paihs to glide :
And we fairies, that do run

By the triple UecateVi team.
From the presence of the snn,

Following darkness like a dream,
Now are frolic ; not a mouse
Bball disturb his hallow'd house
I am sent, with broom before.
To sweep the dust behind the door.

Enter Obbbom and Titamia, with their TVoi'm,

' Obe. Through the house give glimmering light,
By the dead and drowsy fire
Every elf, and f^iiry sprite,

Hop as light as bird from brier ;
And this ditty, after me,
Hing, and dance it, trippingly.
ISiih First rehearse this song by rote :
To each word a warbling note,
H»nd in hand, with lairy grace,
Will we ting, and bleas this place.



Obe Now, until the bresk of dav.

Through tliis hoiiHi* each fairy stray.
To thf be>t biide-bed will we,
Which by us shall blessed be;
And the i88ue there create
Ever Hball be fortunate.
So ^hall all the couples three
Ever true in loving be :
And the biota of Nature's hand
Shall not in their ii^sue stand ;
Never mole, hare-lip tior scar,
Nor mark prodigious, such aa are
Despised in nativity,
8h<ill upon their children be.
With this field-dew consecrate.
Every fairy uke his gait ;
And each several chainbr^r bless.
Through this palace with sweet peace;
Ever Khali in safety rest.
And the owner of it blest
Trii) away ;
Make no stay:
Meet me ail by break of day.

[Exeunt Obkbon, Titamia, mid 7\ram

Puck. If we shadows have offended.

Think but this (and all is mended),

That you have but slumbered here.

While these visions did appear.

And this weak and idle theme.

No more yielding but a dretim,

Gentles, do not reprehend;

If yutt pardon, we will mend.

And, as I am an honest Puck,

If we have unearned luck

Now to 'scape the serpent's tongue^

We will make am»:ods ere long:

Else the Puck a liar call.

So, good night unto you all.

Give me your hands, it we be frienda,

Aad Kobu shall reatore aiueoda. ' '

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^^ OBSSf 0, Dole of Ulyrla.

■BBAgnAR. a yonnff centleniftn, brother to THo!*.

AHTOmO. a Ma^capUlB, frlond to SebastUo.

VAUWRn Soa-capUln, M«ad to Viola.

TALMTiMtt.1 g«atI«iii«B attoadlBg on tho DuU.

*int TOBT BELOB. miclo of OUvla.


KALVOUO. Howard to Oltvla

OLIVIA, a rich Covntrn.

VIOLik. ill lore with the Duko.

KAKIA, OUvU'a womaa.

Lorda. Maito, Bailors, Oflcen, Miuidaai, and othar


8GEHE— A axj la myrla; and tho Boa^eoart aoar 11

SCENE I,— An ApartmaU in t^e Duke^s Palace.

Unter Duke, Cubio, Lords ; Musicians attending,

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

Cur, Will you go hunt, my l<tfd?

Duke, What, Curio?

Cur, The hart

Duke, Wh;^, so I do. the noblest that I have :
Oh I when mine eyes did see Olivia first,
Blethought she purg'd tlie air of pestilence;
That instant was I tum'd into a nart ;
And my desires, like fell and cruel hounds, [her?
E'er since pursue me. — Uo w now ! what news from

Enter Valentine.

VaL So, please my lord, I might not be admitted,
fiot from her handmaid do return tliis answer :
The element itself, till seven years* heat,
Shall net beliold her face at ample view :
But, like a cloistress, she will veiled walk,
And water once a day her chamber round
With eye-offending brine : all this, to season
A brother's dead love, which she would keep fresh.
And lasting, in her sad remembrance. [franie,

Duke, she, that hath a heart of that fine
To pay this debt of love but to a brother.
How will she love, when the rich golden shaft
Bath kill'd the flock of all affections else
That live in her I when liver, brain, and heart.
These sovereign thrones, are all supplied, and nlVd
(Her sweet perfections), with one self kingi —
Away before me to sweet beds of flowers ;
Love-thoqght^ Ue rich when canopied Wf th bowers.


SCENE II.— 7^ Sea Coast

Enter Viola, Caftadt, and Sailon.

Ftb. What country, friends, is this ?

Cap, lUyria, lady.

Vu>, And what should I do in IHyria?
My brother he b in Elysium. [sailors?

Perchance, he is not drowned : — What thmk you,

Cctp, It is perchance, that you yourself were
saved. [may he be.

Vio, my poor brother! and so, perchance

Cap. True, madam : and, to comfort you with
Assure yourself, oftor our ship did split.
When you, and tliat poor number saved with you,
Hung on our driving boat, I saw your brother.
Most provident in peril, bind himself
fCourage and hope both teaching him the practice)
fo a strong mast, that lived upon the sea;
Where, like Arion on the dolpnin's back,
I saw him hold acquaintance with the wavea
So long as I could see.

Vio. Fur saying so, there's gold:
Mine own escape unfoldeth to my hope,
Whereto thy speech serves for authoritf.
The like of him. Know'st thou this country?

Cap, Ay, Madam, well ; for I was bred and bom,
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 ray fkther name him.
He was a bachelor then.

Cap, And so is now.
Or was so very late : for but a month
Ago I went from hence ; and then 'twas fresh
In murmur (as, yon know, what great ones do^
The less will i>rattle of) that he did seek
The love of fair Olivia.

Vio. What's she?

Cap, A virtuous maid the daughter of a ooont
That died some twelvemonth since : then leaving her
In the protection of his son, her brother.
Who shortly also died : for whose dear lovo
They say, she hath abjured the oompany
Ana sight of men.

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Vio, O that I served that lady :
And might not be delivered to the world.
Till I had made mine own occasion mellow,
What my estate is.

Cap, That were hard to compass ;
Secanse she will admit no kind of suit,
No, not the dnke*s.

Vio, There b a iair behaviour in thee, captain ;
And though that nature with a beauteous wall
Doth oft dose in ponution, yet of thee
I will believe, thou hast a mind that suits
With this thy fiiir and outward character.
I pray thee, and 111 pay thee bounteously.
Conceal me what I am ; and be my aid
For such disguise as, haply, shall become
The form of my intent III 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 me very worth hb service.
What else may hap, to time I will commit;
Only shape thou toy silence to my wit.

Uap, Be you his eunuch, and your mate 111 be:
When my tongue blabs, then let mme eyes not see !

Vio, 1 thank thee : lead me on. [Exeunt,

SCENE m.— ^ Boom in OltvuM Emm,
Enter Sir Tobt Belch, and Maria.

Sir To, What a plague means my niece, to take
the death of her brother thus t I am sure care's
an enemy to life.

liar. By my troth. Sir Toby, you must come in
earlier o*iiigbts ; your cousin, my lady, takes great
exceptions to your ill hours.

Sir To. Why, let her except before excepted.

Mar, Ay, but you must confine yourself within
the modest limits of order.

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

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

Sr To, Who? Sir Andrew Agae-cheek?

Mar, Ay, he.

Sir To. lie's as tall a man as any*e in Illyria.

Mar, What's that to the purpose ?

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

Mar, Aye, but hell have but a year in all these
docats : he^ a very fool and a prodigal.

Sir To, Fye, that you'll say sol he plays o* the
yiol-de-gamlK>, and speaks three or four languages
word for word without book, and hath all the good
gifts of nature.

Mar, He hath indeed. — almost natural* for,
besides that he's a fool, he s a great quarreller ; and,
but that he hath the gift of a coward to allay the
gust he hath in quarrelling, *tb thought among the
prudent, he would ouickly have the gift of a grave.

iSSr To, By thb nand, thej are scoundrds and
•ubtraotors that say so of him. Who are they ?

Mar, They that add moreover, he's drunk
nightly in your company.

Sir To, With drinkmg healths to my m'eoe ; 111
drink to her. as long as there is a passage in my
throat, and arink in Illyria: He^ a coward and a
ooystril, that will not drink to m^ niece, till hb
brains turn o' the toe like a paruh-top. What,
wench? Caatiliano-volgo; for here comes Sir
Andrew Ague-face.


EnUr Sir Andbew Aqub-cbeek.

Br And, Sir Toby Belch I how now, Sir Tobv
Belch? '

iSfr To, Sweet Sir Andrew!

Sir And, Bless you, fair shrew.

Jior. And you too, sir.

iS&* To. Accost, Sir Andrew, accost

Sir And, What's that?

Sir To, My niece's chamber-maid.

Sir And, Good mbtress Accost, I desire better

Online LibraryWilliam Michael Rossetti William ShakespeareThe complete works of Shakespeare: With a critical biography → online text (page 26 of 224)