William Michael Rossetti William Shakespeare.

The complete works of Shakespeare: With a critical biography online

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acquaintance.

Mar. My name b Mary, sir.

Sir And. Good Mistress Mary Accost,—

Sir To, You mistake, knight : accost, b, front
her, board her, woo her, assail her.

Sir And. By my troth, I would not undertake
her in thb company. Is that the meaning of
accost?

Mar. Fare you well, gentlemen.

Sir To. An thou let nart so, Sir Andrew, 'would
you might'st never draw sword a^in.

^ And. An you part so, mbtress, I would I
might never draw swonl again. Fair lady, do you
think you have fools in hand ?

Mar, Sir, I have not you by the hand.

SLAnd, Marry, hut you shall have, and here's
my hand.

Mar Now, sir, thought b free : I pray you,
brin^ 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 : I am not such an
ass, but I can keep my hand dry. But whatli
your jest?

Mar. A dry jest, sir.

^V And, Are you full of them?

Mar, Ay, sir; I have them at my fingers* ends
nuury, now I let go your hand, I am barren.

[Exit Mabu.

Sir To. knight, thou kck'st a cup of canary :
when did I see thee so put down?

Sir And. Never in your life, I thmk ; unless
yon see canary put me down: methinks, some-
times I have no more wit than a Christian, or an
ordinary man haa : but I am a great eater of beef,
and I believe that does harm to my wit

Sir To, No question.

^ And. An I thought that, I^ fbrswear it
111 ride home to-morrow, Sir Toby.

Sir To. Pourmiouy my dear knight?

Sir And, Ana what b pottrquoy f do or not do?
I would I had bestowed that time in the tongues,
that I have in fencing, dancing, and bear-baiting s
oh ! had I but followed the arts I [of liair ?

Sir To, Then had'st thou had an excellent head

Sir And. Why, would that have mended my
hairf

Sir To. Past question ; for thoa seest it will not
curl by nature. [not ?

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

Sir To. Excellent; it hangs like flax on a dis-
taff; and I hope to see a housewife take thee
between her legs and spin it off.

Sir And, 'Faith 111 home to-morrow, Sir Toby :
your niece will not be seen ; or, if she be, it's four
to one shell none of me: the count himself^ here
hard by. wooe her.

^To. Shell none o' the count; shell not
match above her degree, neither in estate, vear^
nor wit ; I have heard her swear it Tut thereB
lifoint,!



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THE TWELFTH NIGHT ;

Sir And, III sUj a month longer. I am a fel-
low o* tho strangest mind i' the world ; I delight
in masques and revels sometimes altogether.

Sir To. Art thou good at these kick-shaws,
knight?

JSir And, As any man in Dlyria, whatsoever he
be, under the degree of my betters ; and yet I will
not compare with an old man. [knight?

8U' To, What is thy excellence in a galliard,

J^ And, 'Faith, I can cut a caper.

Atr 7b. And 1 can cut the mutton to*t

Sir And. And, I think, 1 have the back-trick,
simply as strong as any man in Illyria.

^ To. Wherefore are these tilings hid? where-
fore have these gitlts a curtain before them? are
they like to take dust, like Mistress Mall^ picture?
why dost thou not go to church in a galliard, and
come home in a coranto ? M v very walk should
be a jig ; I would not so nutcn as make water but
in a 8iiik-a-pace. What dost tlioa mean? is it a
world to hide virtues in ? 1 did think by the
excellent constitution of thy leg, it was formed
under the star of a galliard.

Sir And. Ay, tis strong, and it does indiflferent
well in, a flame-coloured stock. Shall we set about
some revels ? [under Taurus ?

Sir To. What shall we do else? were we not bom

Sir And. Taurus? that's sides and heart.

£Sr To, No, sir ; it is legs and thighs. Let me
see thee caper : hal higher: ha, ha I— excellent!

[Exeunt,

SCENE 1Y,-^A Boom in the Duke^ Ikdace.
Enter Yalektine and Viola, in man'$ attire.

Vol If the duke continue these favours towards
von. Cesario, you are like to be much advanced ;
he bath known yon but three days, and ahready
you are no stranger.

Vio, You either fear his humour, or my negli-
rence, that you call in question the continuance of
bis love : b he inconstant, sir, in his favours ?

VaL No, believe me.

JSnier Dukb, Curio, and Attendants.

Vio. I thank you. Here comes the count

Jhike. Who saw Cesario, ho?

Vio. On your attendance, my lord ; here.

Duke, Stand you awhile aloof. — Cesario,
Thon know'st no less but all ; I have uncUisp*d
To thee the book even 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 fixed foot shall grow.
Till thou have audience.

Vio. Sure, my noble lord,
If she be so abandoned to her sorrow
As it is spoke, she never will admit me.

Dube, Be clamorous, and leap all civil bounds.
Bather than make unprofited return. [then ?

Vio, Sav, I do speak with her, my lord ; what

Jhdx. Oh I 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 it better in thy youth.
Than m a nnucio of more grave aspect

Vio. 1 think not so. my lord.

JDuie, Dear lad, believe it ;
For they shall yet belie thy happy rears
That say thou art a man: Diana's lip
Is not more smooth and rubious ; thy small pipe
Is as the maiden's organ, shrill and sound.
And all is semblative a woman's part



OR, WHAT YOU WILL. 57

I know thy constellation is right apt
For this affair :— Some four or five attend Mm}
All, if you will ; for I myself am be^t.
When least in company : — Prosper well in this,
And thou shalt live as freely as thy lofd.
To call his fortunes thine.

Vio, 111 do mv best

To woo your lady : yet [Aiide] a barful strife!
Whoe*er I woo, myself would be his wife.

[ExcunU

SCENE Y.—A Boom in OuviaIb 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, in way of thy excuse : my lady will
hang thee for thv absence.

C%. Let her hang me : he that is well lianged
in this world, needs to fear no colours.

Mar. Make that good.

Clo. He shall see none to fear.

Mar. A good lenten answer; I can teU thee
where that saying was bom, of, I fear, no colours.

Clo. Where, good Mistress Mary?

Mar. In the wars ; and that you may be bold
to sav 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 hanging to you?

Clo. Manv a good hangmg prevents a bad mar-
riage ; and for turning away, let sununer bear it
out

Mar. Ton are resolute then ? [points.

Clo, Not so, neither ; but 1 am resolved on two

Mar, That, if one bi*eak the other will hold ; or,
if both break, your gaskins fall.

Clo. Apt, in good faith; very apt! Well, go thy
way J if Sir Toby would leave drmldng, thou wert
as Matty a piece of Eve's flesh, as any in Illyria.

Mar. Peace, you rogue, no more of that; here
comes my laay: make your excuse wisely, you
were best [Exit,

Enter Ouyia and Malvouo.

Clo, Wit, and't 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 man: For what says
Quinapalus? Better a witty fool, than a foolish
wit. — Uod bless thee, lady I

OU. Take the fool away. [ladv.

Clo, Do you not hear, fellows? Take away tne

OU, Go to, youVe a dry fool ; 111 no more of
you : besides, you grow ^honest

Clo, Two faults, madonna, that drink and goo
ooonsel will amend : for give the dry fool drink, —
then is the fool not dry ; bid the aishonest man
mend himself, — if he mend, he is no longer dis-
honest ; if he cannot, let the botcher mend him :
Anything that's mended, is but iiatcbed : 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 thee
take away the fool ; therefore, I say again, take
her away.

OIL ^ir, I bade them take away you.

Clo. Misprision in the highest degree I — Lady,
CueuUus non/adt monadivm; thal^s as mnoh a^
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58 THE TWELFTH NIGHT;

to lay, I wear not motley in my brain. Uood
DMuionna, give me leave to prove you a i'ool.

Oli, Can you do it? ,

Clo, Dexterously « good madonna.

OU, Make your proof.

do. I must catechize you for it, madonna:
Good my mouse of virtue, answer me.

Olu Well, sir, for want of other idleness, 111
abide your proof.

Clo. Good madonna, why moum'st thou?

OH. Good fool, for my brother's death.

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

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

Clo. The more fo.)lyou, madonna, to mourn for
your brother's soul bemg in heaven. — Take away
the fool, fi^entlemen.

OU. What think you of this fool, Malvolio?
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.

Clo. God send you, sir, a speedy infirmity, for
the better increasing vour folly 1 Sir Toby will be
sworn, that I am no fox ; but he will not pass hia
word for two penoe that you are no fool.

OIL How say von to that, Malvolio?

MaL 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
guard already ; unless you laugh and minister oc-
casion to him, he is gagged. I protest, i take these
wise men, that crow so at these set kind of fools,
DO better than tlie fools' zanies.

OU. you are sick of self-love. Malvolio, and
taste with a distempered appetite. To be generous,
guiltless, and of free dis{K)sition, is to take tliose
minga for bird-bolts, ttiat you deem cannon-bullets :
There is no slander in an allowed fool, though he
do nothing but rail ; nor no railing in a known dis-
creet man, though he do nottiing but reprove.

Clo. Now Mercury endue thee with leasing, for
thon apeakest well of fools 1

Be^nter Maria.

Mar, Madam, there is at the ^e a young
gentleman, much desires to .«peak with yoo.

OU. From the Count Orsino, is it ?

Mar. I 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.

OU. Fetch him off, I pray you; he speaks
nothing but madman: Fveon him ! [Exit Maria.]
Go you, Malvolio ; if^ it be a suit from the count, 1
am sick, or not at home, what you will, td dismiss
it. [Ezii Malvouo 1 Now, you see, sir, how
your foolmg grows old, and people dislike it

Clo. Thou iiast spoke for us, madonna, as if thy
eldest son shoald be a fool : whose skull Jove cram
with brains, for here he oomes, one of thy kin, has
f most weak^ica mater.

Enter Sir Toby Beloxl

OU. By mine honour, half drunk.— What is he
ftt the gate, oousm?

^ ^. A gentleman.

0^ A gentleman ? Wliat gentleman?

Si> To. Tb a gentleman here— A plague o*
these pickle herring ! — How now, sot ?

Clo. Good Sir Toby,—

Oli. Cousin, cousin, how haye you come so early
ly this lethargy?



OR, WHAT YOU WILL.

Sir 7b. Lechery 1 I defy lechery: ThQre*« one
at the gate.

Oli. Ay, marry ; what is he?

Sir To. Let him be the devil, an he will, 1 care
not : give me £uth, say I. Well, it's all one.

[Exit,

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

Clo. Like a drown 'd man, a fool, and a madman :
one draught above heat makes him a fool; the
second mads him ; and a third drowns him.

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

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

Mounter Malyolio.

MaL Madam, yond' young fellow swears he will
speak with you. I told him you were sick ; he
takes on him to understand so much, and there-
fore comes to speak with you ; I told him you were
asleep ; he seems to have a foreknowledge of tliat
too, and therefore comes to speak with you. What
is to be said to him, lady? he's forilied against
any denial.

OIL Tell him he shall not speak with me.

Mid. He has been told so; and he says hell
stand at your door like a sheriflTs post, and be the
supporter of a bench, but hell speak with you.

OIL What kind of man is he?

MaL Why of mankind.

OIL What manner of man?

Mai. Of very ill manner ; hell speak with yon,
will you or no.

OIL Of what personage and years is he?

MaL Not vet old enough for a man, nor young
enough for a boy ; as a squash is before 'tis a pease-
cod, or a codling when 'tis almost an apple: tis
with him e'en standing 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 hun.

OU. Let him approach : call in my gentlewoman.

MaL Gentlewoman, my lady calls. [Exit.

BerenUr Maria.

OU. Give me my veil : come, throw it o*er my
Well once more hear Orsino's embassy. [face.

Enter \\0UK

Vio. The honourable lady of the tioose, which
is she? [will?

OU. Speak to me, I shall answer for her. Your

Vio, Most radiant, exonisite, and unmatchable
beauty, — I pray you, tell me, if tliis be the lady
of the house, for I never saw her: I would be
lotli to cast away my speech ; for, besides that it
is excellently well penned, I have taken great
pains to con it Good beauties, let me sustain no
scorn; I am very comptible, even to the least
sinister usage.

OU. Whence came yon, sir?

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

OU, Are you a comedian ?

Vio. No, my profound heart : and yet, by the
very fangs of malice, I swear, I am not that I
\ Are you the lady of the house?
*/t. If 1 do not usurp myself, I am.

Vio. Most certain, if you are she, f on do usurp
yourself; for what is yours to bestov ii not youn
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n\i



THE TWELFTH NTGHT;
to reserve. But this is from mj commission : I |
will on witti my speech in your praLse, and then
show you the heart uf m^ messa^.

OU. Come to wiiat is important int I forgive
you the praise. .

Vio. Alas, I took great pains to study it, and 'tis
poetical.

OIL It is the more likely to be feigned ; I pray
you, keep it in. I beard you were saucy at my
ffates; and allowed your approach, rather to won-
der at you than to hear you. If j^ou be not mad,
be gone; if you have reason, be bri«f: ^tis not that
time of moon with me, to make one in so skipping
a dialogue.

Mar. Will you hoist sail, sir? here lies your way.

Vio. No good swabber: I am to hiUl here a
little longer. — Some molification for your giant,
sweet lady.

OH. Tell roe your mind.

Vio. 1 am a messenger.

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

Vio, It alone concerns your ear. I bring no
overture of war, no taxation of homage ; I hold
the olive in my hand : my words are as full of
peace as matter.

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

Vio. The rudeness that hath appear*d in me,
have 1 learn 'd from my entertainment. What I
am, and wliat I would, are as secret as maiden-
heaid: to your ears, divinity; to any others,
profiuiation.

OIL Qive us the place alone : we will hear this
divinity. [Ejcit Majua.] Now, sir, what is your
teit?

Vio. Host sweet 1ady,~

OH, A comfortable doctrine, and much may be
«ud of it. Where lies your text?

Vio. In Orsiuo's bosom.

OU. In his bosom? In what chapter of his
bosom?

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

OU. Oh! I have read it; it is heresy. Have
you no more to say ?

Vio. Good madnm, let me see your &ce.

OU Have you any commission from your lord
to negudate 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 as I
was this pree^nt : Is't not well done ? [ Unveiling.

Vio. Excellently done, if God did all.

OU Tis in grain, sir ; t will endure wind and
weather.

Vio, Tis beauty truly blent, whose red and
white
Nature's own sweet and cunning hand kid on :
La4y, you are the cruel 'st she alive.
If you will lead these graces to the grave.
And leave the world no copy.

(XL 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 indifferent
red; item, two grey eyes, with lids to them; item,
one neck, one chin, and so forth. Were you sent
hither to 'praise me ?

Via. 1 see you what you are: yoa are too
•proud;
But, if vou were the devil, you are fair.
U/ lord and master loves you; Ub! such love



OR. WHAT fOU WILL 59

Could be but recompensed though yoa wers

crt)wn*d
The nonpareil of beauty I

OU. How does he love me ?

Vio. With ad»»rations, with fertile tears,
With groans that thunder love, with sighs of fire.

OU Your lord does know my mind, I cannot
love him :
Yet I suppose him virtuous, know him noble,
Of great estate, of fresh and stainless youth ;
In voices well divulg'd, free, leam'd, and valiant.
And, in dimension, and the shape of nature,
A gracious person : but yet 1 cannot love him ;
He might have took his answer long ago.

Vw. If 1 did love you in my master s flame,
With such a suffering, such a deadly life.
In your denial I would find no sense,
I would not understand it.

OU. Why, what would you?

Vio. Make me a willow cabin at your gate,
And call uoon my soul within the house ;
Write loyal cantons of contemned love,
And sing them loud even in the dead of night;
HoUa your name to the reverberate hills.
And make the babbling gossip of the air
Cry out, Olivia 1 Oh I vou should not rest
Between the elements of air and earth.
But you should pity me.

OU You might do much : What ui your parent
age?

Fib. Abo\ e my fortunes, yet my state is well :
I am a gentleman.

OU Get you to your lord ;
I cannot love him: let him send no more;
Unless, perchance, you come to me again.
To tell me how he takes it Fare you well :
I thank you for your pains : spend this for me.

Vio. 1 am no fee'd post, bdy ; keep your purse
My master, not myself, lacks recompense.
Love make his heart of flint, that you shall love ;
And let your fervour, like mv master^, be
Placed in contempt I Farewell, fiiir cruelty.

[Exiy

OU What is your parentage ?
Above my fortune, yet my state is well :

** 1 am a gentleman.'' 111 l)e sworn thou art;

Thy tongue, thy face, thy limbs, actions, and spirit
Do give thee bve-fold blazon: — Not too fast:-

soil! soft I
Unless the master were the man.— How now?
Even so quickly may one catch the plague?
Methinks, 1 feel tliis youth's perfections,
Witli an invisible and subtle stealth.
To creep in at mine eyes. Well, let it be.—
Whatjho, Malvoliol —

Be^ntcr BiALVOUO.

MdL Here, madam, at your service.

OU Run after that same peevish messenger.
The county's man : he left tliis ring beliind him.
Would I, or not ; tell him, I'll none of it.
Desire him not to flatter with his lord.
Nor hold him up with hopes ; 1 am not for Mm :
If that the youtn will come this way to-morrow,
111 give him reasons for^t. Hie thee, Malvolio.

MaL Madam,IwilL

[Etit

OU 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 decr^, miut be ; and be this sol

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60



THE TWELFTH NIGHT; OR, WHAT YOU WILL.



ACT IL



SCENE L^The Seorcoast.
Enter Antonio and Sebastiah.



Aid. Will yon stay do longer? nor will you
not that I go with you ?

SA, By your patience, no: my stars shine
darkly over me ; the malignancy of my fate might,
perhaps, distemper your's ; tiierefore I shall crave
of you your leave, that 1 may bear my evils alone :
it were a bad recompense for your love to lay any
of them on you.

AnL Let me yet know of you, whither you are
bound.

8«b. No, ^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 tlien,
Antonio, my name is Sebastian, which I called
Kodorigo; my &ther was that Sebastian, of Mes-
saline, whom I know you have heard of: he left
behind him, myself and a sister, both born 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, was my sister drowned.

AnL Alas, the day 1

Oeb, 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, overfiir believe that, yet thus far 1 will
boldly publish her, she bore a' mind that envy
could not but call fidr : she is drowned already,
sir, with salt water, though I seem to drown her
remembrance again with more.

Ant, Pardon me, sir, your bad entertainment

Seb, good Antonio, forgive me your trouble.

Afd, If you will not murder me for my love,
let me be your servant.

SA, If you will not undo what yon 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 occasion more,
mme 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
I have many enemies in Orsino's court.
Else would I very Portly see thee there:
But come what may, I do adore tliee so.
That danger shall seem sport, and I will go. [EwiL

SCENE U,— A Street.

Enter Viola ; Malyolio foUowmg.

M<JL Were not yon even now with the countess
OUyia?

Fib. Even now. sir ; on a moderate pace I have
dnoe arrived but hither.

MdL She returns this rin^ to yon, sir; you
might have saved me my pains, to have taken it
away yourself. She adds moreover, that you
thoold put your lord into a desperate assurance
•he will none of him : and one thing more ; that
yon be never so hardy to come again in his atikirs,
unless it be to report your lord's taking of this.
Receive it so.

y%o. She took tb^ rin^ of me ; 111 none of it.



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

lExit,

Vio, I left no ring with her: what means \\m
ladjr?
Fortune forbid, my outside have not charm *d her 5
She made good view of me; indeed, so much.
That, sure, methought, her eyes had lost her to ngue
For she did speak in starts distractedly. '

She loves me, sure ; the cunning of her passion
Invites me in this churlish messenger.
None of my lord's ring 1 why, he sent her none.
I am the man :— If it be so (as *tis).
Poor Udy, she were better love a dream. '

Disguise, I see thou art a wickedness.
Wherein the j)regnant enemy does much.
How easy is it, for the proper-false
In women's waxen hearts to set their forms I
Alas ! our frailty is the cause not we ;
For, sucli as we are made of, such we be
How will this fadge ? My master loves her dearly 5
And I poor monster, fond as much on him ;
And she, mistaken, seems to dote on me :
What will become of thb I As I am man,
My state is desperate for my master's love ;
As I am woman, now alas the day I
What thriftless sighs shall poor Olivia breathed
O time, thou must untangle this, not I ;
It is too hard a knot for me t' untie. [Exit,

SCENE IIL— ^ Room m Olivia's H<mu.

Enter Sir Toby Belch, and Sir Andrew
Aque-cheek.

i^ To. Approach, Sir Andrew : not to be a-bed
after midnight, is to be up betimes ; and dUiuculo
aurgert^ thou know'st,

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

Sir To. A false conclusion ^ I hate it as an un-
filled can : to be up after midnight, and to go to
bed then, is early: so that, to go to bed after mid-
night, is to go to bed betimes. Do not our lives
consist of tlie foiu* elements ?

Sir And. 'Faith, so they say; but, I think, it
rather consists of eating and drinking.

Sir To. Thou art a scholar; let us therefore eat
and drink.— Marian, I say I a stoop of wine 1



Online LibraryWilliam Michael Rossetti William ShakespeareThe complete works of Shakespeare: With a critical biography → online text (page 27 of 224)