The Bodleian First Folio

A digital facsimile of the First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Bodleian Arch. G c.7.



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Reference: Y4v - Comedies, p. 260

Left Column


Twelfe Night, or, What you will. Fate, shew thy force, our selues we do not owe, What is decreed, must be: and be this so.
Finis, Actus primus.
Actus Secundus, Scæna prima. [Act 2, Scene 1] Enter Antonio & Sebastian. Ant.

Will you stay no longer: nor will you not that

[590]

I go with you.

Seb.

By your patience, no: my starres shine darkely

ouer me; the malignancie of my fate, might perhaps di­

temper yours; therefore I shall craue of you your leaue,

that I may beare my euils alone. It were a bad recom­

[595]

pence for your loue, to lay any of them on you.

An.

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

Seb.

No sooth sir: my determinate voyage is meere

extrauagancie. But I perceiue in you so excellent a touch

of modestie, that you will not extort from me, what I am

[600]

willing to keepe in: therefore it charges me in manners,

the rather to expresse my selfe: you must know of mee

then Antonio, my name is Sebastian (which I call'd Rodo­ rigo ) my father was that Sebastian of Messaline, whom I

know you haue heard of. He left behinde him, my selfe,

[605]

and a sister, both borne in an houre: if the Heauens had

beene pleas'd, would we had so ended. But you sir, al­

tered that, for some houre before you tooke me from the

breach of the sea, was my sister drown'd.

Ant.

Alas the day.

Seb.
[610]

A Lady sir, though it was said shee much resem­

bled me, was yet of many accounted beautiful: but thogh

I could not with such estimable wonder ouer‑farre be­

leeue that, yet thus farre I will boldly publish her, shee

bore a minde that enuy could not but call faire: Shee is

[615]

drown'd already sir with salt water, though I seeme to

drowne her remembrance againe with more.

Ant.

Pardon me sir, your bad entertainment.

Seb.

O good Antonio, forgiue me your trouble.

Ant.

If you will not murther me for my loue, let m e

[620]

be your seruant.

Seb.

If you will not vndo what you haue done, that is

kill him, whom you haue recouer'd, desire it not. Fare

ye well at once, my bosome is full of kindnesse, and I

am yet so neere the manners of my mother, that vpon the

[625]

least occasion more, mine eyes will tell tales of me: I am

bound to the Count Orsino's Court, farewell.

Exit Ant. The gentlenesse of all the gods go with thee: I haue many enemies in Orsino's Court, Else would I very shortly see thee there:
[630]
But come what may, I do adore thee so, That danger shall seeme sport, and I will go.
Exit.
Scæna Secunda. [Act 2, Scene 2] Enter Viola and Maluolio, at seuerall doores. Mal.

Were not you eu'n now, with the Countesse liuia?

Vio.

Euen now sir, on a moderate pace, I haue since a­

[635]

riu'd but hither.

Mal.

She returnes this Ring to you (sir) you might

haue saued mee my paines, to haue taken it away your

selfe. She adds moreouer, that you should put your Lord

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into a desperate assurance, she will none of him. And one

[640]

thing more, that you be neuer so hardie to come againe

in his affaires, vnlesse it bee to report your Lords taking

of this: receiue it so.

Vio.

She tooke the Ring of me, Ile none of it.

Mal.

Come sir, you peeuishly threw it to her: and

[645]

her will is, it should be so return'd: If it bee worth stoo­

ping for, there it lies, in your eye: if not, bee it his that

findes it.

Exit. Vio. I left no Ring with her: what meanes this Lady? Fortune forbid my out‑side haue not charm'd her:
[650]
She made good view of me, indeed so much, That me thought her eyes had lost her tongue, For she did speake in starts distractedly. She loues me sure, the cunning of her passion Inuites me in this churlish messenger:
[655]
None of my Lords Ring? Why he sent her none; I am the man, if it be so, as tis, Poore Lady, she were better loue a dreame: Disguise, I see thou art a wickednesse, Wherein the pregnant enemie does much.
[660]
How easie is it, for the proper false In womens waxen hearts to set their formes: Alas, O frailtie is the cause, not wee, For such as we are made, if such we bee: How will this fadge? My master loues her deerely,
[665]
And I (poore monster) fond asmuch on him: And she (mistaken) seemes to dote on me: What will become of this? As I am man, My state is desperate for my maisters loue: As I am woman (now alas the day)
[670]
What thriftlesse sighes shall poore Oliuia breath? O time, thou must vntangle this, not I, It is too hard a knot for me t'vnty.
Scœna Tertia. [Act 2, Scene 3] Enter Sir Toby, and Sir Andrew. To.

Approach Sir Andrew: not to bee a bedde after

midnight, is to be vp betimes, and Deliculo surgere, thou

[675]

know'st.

And.

Nay by my troth I know not: but I know, to

be vp late, is to be vp late.

To.

A false conclusion: I hate it as an vnfill'd Canne.

To be vp after midnight, and to go to bed then is early:

[680]

so that to go to bed after midnight, is to goe to bed be­

times. Does not our liues consist of the foure Ele­

ments?

And.

Faith so they say, but I thinke it rather consists

of eating and drinking.

To.
[685]

Th'art a scholler; let vs therefore eate and drinke

Marian I say, a stoope of wine.

Enter Clowne. And.

Heere comes the foole yfaith.

Clo.

How now my harts: Did you neuer see the Pic­

ture of we three?

To.
[690]

Welcome asse, now let's haue a catch.

And.

By my troth the foole has an excellent breast. I

had rather then forty shillings I had such a legge, and so

sweet a breath to sing, as the foole has. Insooth thou wast

in very gracious fooling last night, when thou spok'st of

[695]

Pigrogromitus, of the Vapians pasing the Equinoctial of

Queubus: 'twas very good yfaith: I sent thee sixe pence

for

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Scæna Secunda. [Act 2, Scene 2] Enter Viola and Maluolio, at seuerall doores. Mal.

Were not you eu'n now, with the Countesse liuia?

Vio.

Euen now sir, on a moderate pace, I haue since a­

[635]

riu'd but hither.

Mal.

She returnes this Ring to you (sir) you might

haue saued mee my paines, to haue taken it away your

selfe. She adds moreouer, that you should put your Lord

into a desperate assurance, she will none of him. And one

[640]

thing more, that you be neuer so hardie to come againe

in his affaires, vnlesse it bee to report your Lords taking

of this: receiue it so.

Vio.

She tooke the Ring of me, Ile none of it.

Mal.

Come sir, you peeuishly threw it to her: and

[645]

her will is, it should be so return'd: If it bee worth stoo­

ping for, there it lies, in your eye: if not, bee it his that

findes it.

Exit. Vio. I left no Ring with her: what meanes this Lady? Fortune forbid my out‑side haue not charm'd her:
[650]
She made good view of me, indeed so much, That me thought her eyes had lost her tongue, For she did speake in starts distractedly. She loues me sure, the cunning of her passion Inuites me in this churlish messenger:
[655]
None of my Lords Ring? Why he sent her none; I am the man, if it be so, as tis, Poore Lady, she were better loue a dreame: Disguise, I see thou art a wickednesse, Wherein the pregnant enemie does much.
[660]
How easie is it, for the proper false In womens waxen hearts to set their formes: Alas, O frailtie is the cause, not wee, For such as we are made, if such we bee: How will this fadge? My master loues her deerely,
[665]
And I (poore monster) fond asmuch on him: And she (mistaken) seemes to dote on me: What will become of this? As I am man, My state is desperate for my maisters loue: As I am woman (now alas the day)
[670]
What thriftlesse sighes shall poore Oliuia breath? O time, thou must vntangle this, not I, It is too hard a knot for me t'vnty.
 

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<div type="scene" n="2">
   <head rend="italic center">Scæna Secunda.</head>
   <head type="supplied">[Act 2, Scene 2]</head>
   <stage rend="italic center" type="entrance">Enter Viola and Maluolio, at seuerall doores.</stage>
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      <p n="634">Euen now sir, on a moderate pace, I haue since a­
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      <speaker rend="italic">Mal.</speaker>
      <p n="636">She returnes this Ring to you (sir) you might
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      <lb n="638"/>selfe. She adds moreouer, that you should put your Lord</p>
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      <p n="639">into a desperate assurance, she will none of him. And one
      <lb n="640"/>thing more, that you be neuer so hardie to come againe
      <lb n="641"/>in his affaires, vnlesse it bee to report your Lords taking
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   <sp who="#F-tn-vio">
      <speaker rend="italic">Vio.</speaker>
      <p n="643">She tooke the Ring of me, Ile none of it.</p>
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   <sp who="#F-tn-mal">
      <speaker rend="italic">Mal.</speaker>
      <p n="644">Come sir, you peeuishly threw it to her: and
      <lb n="645"/>her will is, it should be so return'd: If it bee worth stoo­
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   <stage rend="italic rightJustified" type="exit">Exit.</stage>
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      <speaker rend="italic">Vio.</speaker>
      <l n="648">I left no Ring with her: what meanes this Lady?</l>
      <l n="649">Fortune forbid my out‑side haue not charm'd her:</l>
      <l n="650">She made good view of me, indeed so much,</l>
      <l n="651">That me thought her eyes had lost her tongue,</l>
      <l n="652">For she did speake in starts distractedly.</l>
      <l n="653">She loues me sure, the cunning of her passion</l>
      <l n="654">Inuites me in this churlish messenger:</l>
      <l n="655">None of my Lords Ring? Why he sent her none;</l>
      <l n="656">I am the man, if it be so, as tis,</l>
      <l n="657">Poore Lady, she were better loue a dreame:</l>
      <l n="658">Disguise, I see thou art a wickednesse,</l>
      <l n="659">Wherein the pregnant enemie does much.</l>
      <l n="660">How easie is it, for the proper false</l>
      <l n="661">In womens waxen hearts to set their formes:</l>
      <l n="662">Alas, O frailtie is the cause, not wee,</l>
      <l n="663">For such as we are made, if such we bee:</l>
      <l n="664">How will this fadge? My master loues her deerely,</l>
      <l n="665">And I (poore monster) fond asmuch on him:</l>
      <l n="666">And she (mistaken) seemes to dote on me:</l>
      <l n="667">What will become of this? As I am man,</l>
      <l n="668">My state is desperate for my maisters loue:</l>
      <l n="669">As I am woman (now alas the day)</l>
      <l n="670">What thriftlesse sighes shall poore<hi rend="italic">Oliuia</hi>breath?</l>
      <l n="671">O time, thou must vntangle this, not I,</l>
      <l n="672">It is too hard a knot for me t'vnty.</l>
   </sp>
</div>

        
        

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