In women's waxen hearts to fet their forms! For fuch as we are made, if fuch we be. How will this fadge? my mafter loves her dearly, Sir To. SCENE III. Changes to Olivia's Houfe. Enter Sir Toby, and Sir Andrew. A [Exit. PPROACH, Sir Andrew, not to be a-bed after midnight, is to be up betimes; and Diluculo furgere, thou know'ft, Sir And. Nay by my troth, I know not: but I know, to be up late, is to be up late. can; Sir To. A falfe conclufion: I hate it, as an unfill'd to be up after midnight, and to go to bed then, is early; fo that to go to bed after midnight, is to go to bed betimes. Does not our life confift of the four elements? Sir And. 'Faith, fo they fay; but 3, I think, it rather confists of eating and drinking. The two next lines are perhaps tranfpofed, and fhould be read thus. For juch as we are made, if not we. 3 I think it rather confifts of eating and drinking.] A ridicule on the medical theory of that time, which fuppofed health to confif in the just temperament and ballance of the fc elements in the human frame. WARB. Sir To. Th'art a fcholar, let us therefore eat and drink. Maria! I fay!-a ftoop of wine. Sir And. Enter Clown. 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 breast. I had rather than forty fhillings I had fuch a leg, and fo fweet a breath to fing, as the fool has. In footh, thou waft in very gracious fooling last night, when thou spok'ft of Pigrogromitus, of the Vapians paffing the Equinoctial of Queubus: 'twas very good, i'faith: I fent thee fixpence for thy Lemon, hadft it 4 ? Clo. I did impeticos thy gratility; for Malvolio's nofe is no whip-ftock. My Lady has a white hand, and the Myrmidons are no bottle-ale houses. 5 Sir And. Excellent: why, this is the best fooling, when all is done. Now, a Song Sir To. Come on, there's Six-pence for you. Let's have a Song. Sir And. There's a teftril of me too; if one Knight give a Clo. Would you have a Love-fong, or a Song of good life? Sir To. A Love-fong, a Love-fong. 4 I fent thee fix-pence for thy Lemon, badft it?] But the Clown was neither Pantler, nor Butler, The Poet's Word was certainly miftaken by the ignorance of the Printer. I have reftor'd, leman, ie. I fent thee Sixpence to spend on thy Miftrefs. THE. 5 I did impeticos, &c.] This, Sir T. Hanmer tells us, is the fame with impocket thy gratuity. He is undoubtedly right; but we must read, I did impeticoat thy gratuity. The fools were kept in long coats, to which the allufion is made. There is yet much in this dialogue which I do not underrftand. Clown Clown fings. O mistress mine, where are you roaming! Sir And. Excellent good, i'faith! Clo. What is love? 'tis not hereafter, 6 In delay there lyes no plenty, *Then come kifs me, fweet, and twenty, Sir And. A mellifluous voice, as I am a true Knight. Sir To. A contagious breath. Sir And. Very sweet and contagious, i'faith. Sir To. To hear by the nofe, it is dulcet in contagion. But shall we? make the welkin dance, indeed? Shall we rouze the night-owl in a catch, that will draw three fouls out of one weaver? fhall we do that? Sir Sir And. An you love me, let's do't: I am a dog at a catch. Clo. By'r Lady, Sir, and fome dogs will catch well. Sir And. Moft certain : let our catch be, Thou Knave. Clo. Hold thy peace, thou knave, Knight. I fhall be constrain'd in't to call thee knave, Knight. Sir And. 'Tis not the first time I have constrain'd one to call me knave. Begin, fool; it begins, Hold thy peace. Clo. I fhall never begin, if I hold my peace. [They fing a catch". SCENE IV. Enter Maria. Mar. What a catterwauling do you keep here? if my Lady have not call'd up her steward, Malvolio, and bid him turn you out of doors, never trust me. Sir To. My Lady's a Catayan, we are politicians, Malvolio's a Peg-a Ramfey, and Three merry men are we. thor. Much ado about Nothing, Now it is foul ravifhed. Is it not ftrange that Sheep's-guts should bale fouls out of men's bodies? Why he fays three fouls, is becaufe he is fpeaking of a catch in three parts. And the peripatetic philofophy, then in vogue, very liberally gave every man three fouls; the vegetative, or plaftic, the animal, and the rational. To this, too, Johnson alludes, in his Poetafter; What, will Iturn fharke up on my friend: ? or my friends friends? Ifcorn it with my three fouls. By the mention of these three, therefore, we may suppose it was Am not I confanguineous? am I not of her blood? Tilly valley, Lady! there dwelt a man in Babylon, Lady, Lady. [Singing. Clo. Befhrew me, the Knight's in admirable fooling. Sir And. Ay, he does well enough if he be difpos'd, and fo do I too: he does it with a better grace, but I do it more natural. Sir To. O, the twelfth day of December,-[Singing. Mar. For the love o'God, peace. Enter Malvolio. Mal. My mafters, 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 you make an alehoufe of my Lady's houfe, that you squeak out your coziers catches without any mitigation or remorfe of voice? is there no refpect of place, perfons, nor time in you? Sir To. We did keep time, Sir, in our catches. Sneck up! [Hiccoughs. Mal. Sir Toby, I must be round with you. My Lady bade me tell you, that tho' fhe harbours you as her Uncle, she's nothing ally'd to your disorders. If you can separate yourfelf and your misdemeanors, you are welcome to the House: if not, an it would please you to take leave of her, fhe is very willing to bid you farewel. Sir To. Farewell, dear heart, fince I must needs be gone. Mal. Nay, good Sir Toby. Clo. His eyes do fhew, his days are almost done. Mal. Is't even fo? Sir To. But I will never die. Clo. Sir Toby, there you lie. Mal. This is much credit to you. ed to have had very often in her mouth. 2 A Cozier is a taylor, from coufer to few, French. |