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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,
Whom the blind waves and surges have devour'd.
[TO VIOLA.]-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.

A spirit I am indeed;
But am in that dimension grossly clad,
Which from the womb I did participate.
Were you a woman, as the rest goes even,
I should my tears let fall upon your cheek,
And say thrice welcome, drowned Viola!

Vio. My father had a mole upon his brow.
Seb. And so had mine.

Vio. And died that day, when Viola 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.
Vio. If nothing lets to make us happy both,
But this my masculine usurp'd attire,
Do not embrace me, till each circumstance
Of place, time, fortune, do cohere, and jump,
That I am Viola: which to confirm,
I'll bring you to a captain in this town,
Where lie my maiden weeds: by whose gentle help
I was preserv'd to serve this noble count.
All the occurrence of my fortune since
Hath been between this lady, and this lord.

Seb. So comes it, lady,-[To OLIVIA.]—you have been mistook;

But nature to her bias drew in that.
You would have been contracted to a maid,
Nor are you therein, by my life, deceiv'd:
You are betroth'd both to a maid and man.

Duke. Be not amaz'd; right noble is his blood.—
If this be so, as yet the glass seems true,
I shall have share in this most happy wreck.

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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,
They say, poor gentleman, he's much distract.
A most extracting frenzy of mine own
From my remembrance clearly banish'd his.-
Re-enter Clown, with a letter.

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Clo. Look then to be well edified, when the fool delivers the madman:-[Reads.]-"By the Lord, madam,"

Oli. How now! art thou mad?

Clo. No, madam, I do but read madness: an your ladyship will have it as it ought to be, you must allow vox.

Oli. Pr'ythee, read i' thy right wits.

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

Oli. Read it

sirrah. you,


Fab. [Reads.] "By the Lord, madam, you wrong me, and the world shall know it: though you have put me into darkness, 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

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To think me as well a sister as a wife,

One day shall crown the alliance on't, so please you, Here at my house, and at my proper cost.

Duke. Madam, I am most apt t' embrace your offer.

[TO VIOLA.] Your master quits you; and, for your service done him,

So much against the mettle of your sex,
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.

A sister:-you are she.
Re-enter FABIAN, with MALVOLIO.
Duke. Is this the madman?

How now, Malvolio?


Ay, my lord, this same. Madam, you have done me wrong,

Notorious wrong.


Have I, Malvolio? no.

Mal. Lady, you have. Pray you, peruse that


You must not now deny it is your hand,
Write from it, if you can, in hand, or phrase;
Or say, 'tis not your seal, nor 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 suffer'd me to be imprison'd,
Kept in a dark house, visited by the priest,
And made the most notorious geck, and gull,
That e'er invention play'd on? tell me why.

Oli. 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 cam'st in smiling,
And in such forms which here were presuppos'd
Upon thee in the letter. Pr'ythee, be content:
This practice hath most shrewdly pass'd upon thee;
But when we know the grounds and authors of it,
Thou shalt be both the plaintiff and the judge
Of thine own cause.


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 had conceiv'd against him. Maria writ The letter at Sir Toby's great importance; In recompense whereof, he hath married her. How with a sportful malice it was follow'd, May rather pluck on laughter than revenge, If that the injuries be justly weigh'd, That have on both sides past.

Oli. 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 gagg'd:" And thus the whirligig of time brings in his revenges.

Mal. I'll be revenged on the whole pack of you.

Oli. He hath been most notoriously abus'd.
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 convents,
A solemn combination shall be made

Of our dear souls :-mean time, sweet sister,
We will not part from hence.-Cesario, come;
For so you shall be, while you are a man,
But when in other habits you are seen,

Orsino's mistress, and his fancy's queen. [Exeunt.


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,
With hey, ho, the wind and the rain,
'Gainst knaves and thieves men shut their gate,
For the rain it raineth every day.

But when I came, alas! to wive,

With hey, ho, the wind and the rain,
By swaggering could I never thrive,
For the rain it raineth every day.
But when I came unto my bed,

With hey, ho, the wind and the rain,
With toss-pots still had drunken head,
For the rain it raineth every day.
A great while ago the world begun,
With hey, ho, the wind and the rain,
But that's all one, our play is done,
And we'll strive to please you every day.

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"-it had a DYING FALL"-By 'fall' is meant cadence, (from cado,) a musical term, signifying the close of a passage or phrase, and which commonly includes the transition from a dissonant to a consonant sound; or, in the language of Lord Bacon, (Sylva Sylvarum,) 'the falling from a discord to a concord, which maketh great sweetnesse in musicke.' Milton, in 'Comus,' uses the word in the same sense as Shakespeare; and Pope, in his 'Ode to St. Cecilia's Day,' has dying fall. Dying' probably means a diminution of sound, technically expressed diminuendo."-KNIGHT.

"-like the sweet SOUTH"-I have, not without hesitation, retained in the text Pope's beautiful and ingenious conjectural reading. The original has, "the sweet sound that breathes," etc.; which cannot well be denied to be possibly the word used by one so bold in the application of poetical language as Shakespeare. Rowe, startled at the boldness of it, suggested wind for sound; but Pope, presuming a very natural typographical error, (sound for south,) offered a new and beautiful thought, which has been approved by the commentators, except Douce and Knight. The latter retains the old reading,

and thus maintains it:

"-like the sweet SOUND-To those who are familiar with the well-known text

O! it came o'er my ear like the sweet souththe restoration of the word sound will appear strange

and startling. But let us consider whether Shakespeare was most likely to have written sound or south, which involves the question of which is the better word. Stevens tells us that the thought might have been borrowed from Sidney's ' Arcadia,' (book i.,) and he quotes a part of the passage. We must look, however, at the context. Sidney writes, Her breath is more sweet than a gentle south-west wind, which comes creeping over flowery fields and shadowed waters in the extreme heat of summer.' The comparison is here direct. The sweet breath of Urania is more sweet than the gentle south-west wind. Sidney adds, and yet is nothing, compared to the honey-flowing speech that breath doth carry. The music of the speech is not here compared with the music of the wind-the notion of fragrance is alone conveyed. If in the passage of the text we read south instead of sound, the conclusion of the sentence, 'Stealing, and giving odour,' rests upon the mind; and the comparison becomes an indirect one between the harmony of the dying fall and the odour of the breeze that had passed over a bank of violets. This, we think, is not what the Poet meant. He desired to compare one sound with another sound. Milton had probably this passage in view when he wrote

- Now gentle gales,

Fanning their odoriferous wings, dispense
Native perfumes, and whisper whence they stole
Those balmy spoils.

The image in Milton, as well as in Shakespeare, combines the notion of sound as well as fragrance. In

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Shakespeare, the sound that breathes'-the soft mur mur of the breeze playing amid beds of flowers-is put first, because of the dying fall' of the exquisite harmo ny; but in Milton the perfumes' of the gentle gales' are more prominent than the whisper'-because the image is complete in itself, unconnected with what precedes. Further, Shakespeare has nowhere else made the south an odour-breathing wind; his other representations are directly contrary. In As YOU LIKE IT, Rosalind says

You foolish shepherd, wherefore do you follow her, Like foggy south, puffing with wind and rain? In ROMEO AND JULIET, we have the dew-dropping south.' In CYMBELINE, the south-fog rot him.' We prefer, therefore, on all accounts, to hold to the original


"what VALIDITY"-i, e. Value.

"my desires, like fell and cruel hounds"-" This image evidently alludes to the story of Acteon, by which Shakespeare seems to think men cautioned against too great familiarity with forbidden beauty. Actæon, who saw Diana naked, and was torn in pieces by his hounds, represents a man, who, indulging his eyes, or his imagination, with the view of a woman he cannot gain, has his heart torn with incessant longing. An interpretation far more elegant and natural than that of Sir Francis Bacon, who, in his Wisdom of the Ancients,' supposes this story to warn us against inquiring into the secrets of princes, by showing that those who know that which for reasons of state should be concealed, will be detected and destroyed by their own servants."-JOHNSON.

“— kill'd the FLOCK"-Sir P. Sidney, in his "Arcadia," (1590,) as Stevens observes, has a similar expression" the flock of unspeakable virtues;" meaning, of course, the assemblage of them. Collier adds that this passage occurs in the "Arcadia" just below one already quoted, respecting "the sweet south"-a confirmation of that reading.

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"(Her sweet perfections,)"-" Stevens thus explains this passage:-Liver, brain, and heart are admitted, in poetry, as the residence of passions, judgment, and sentiments. These are what Shakespeare calls her sweet perfections.' This is doubtless a mistaken interpretation. The phrase ought probably to be, Her sweet perfection. The filling of the sovereign throne' with one self king' is the perfection of Olivia's merits-according to the ancient doctrine that a woman was not complete till her union with a self king.' In Lord Berners's translation of Froissart,' there is a sentence which glances at the same opinion. The rich Berthoult of Malines is desirous to marry his daughter to the noble Earl of Guerles; and he thus communes with himself:'Howbeit, I will answer these messengers that their coming pleaseth me greatly, and that my daughter should be happy if she might come to so great a perfection as to be conjoined in marriage with the Earl of Gueries,' "— KNIGHT.

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They say she hath abjur'd the sight,
And company of men.

The alteration, making "sight" and "company" change places, was by Hanmer; and it is for the better, both in metre and sense. Olivia has abjured not only the "company," but even the "sight" of men. Knight adheres to the older reading.



as TALL a man"-i. e. As valiant a man. tall a man" is used here by Sir Toby with more than the usual license of the word. He was pleased with the equivoque, and banters upon the diminutive stature of poor Sir Andrew, and his utter want of courage.

"the VIOL-DE-GAMBOYS"-Meaning, of course, the viol-di-gambo-an instrument then much in use.

"—a COYSTRIL"-" Coystril" was a term applied to certain menial servants, formerly the usual attendants upon the body-guard of the monarch. Hollingshed thus designates the unwarlike followers of an army. A "coystril,' or kestrel, in falconry, (says Nares,) is sometimes wrongly used for the name of a worthless, mongrel kind of hawk.

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Castiliano VULGO"-Warburton supposed that 'vulgo" should be printed volto, and that Maria was to put on a Castilian, or grave countenance, on the approach of Sir Andrew. Hall, in his "Satires," describes his man of forms as making "a Spanish face." This is doubtless the allusion; but Sir Toby blunders in his Spanish, as he has just done in his "viol-de-gamboys." The old copy reads, Castiliano vulgo. Warburton proposed reading, Castiliano volto. In English, Put on your Castilian countenance'-i. e. grave serious looks. I have no doubt that Warburton was right, for that reading is required by the context, and Castiliano vulgo has no meaning. But I have met with a passage in Hall's Satires' which, I think, places it beyond a

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- he can kiss his hand in gree,
And with good grace bow it below the knee,
Or make a Spanish face with fawning cheer,
With th' Iland conge like a cavalier,

And shake his head, and cringe his neck and side, etc. The Spaniards were in high estimation for courtesy though the natural gravity of the national countenance was thought to be a cloak for villany. The Castiliano volto was in direct opposition to the viso sciolto, which the noble Roman told Sir Henry Wootton would go safe over the world. Castiliano vulgo, besides its want of connection or meaning in this place, could hardly have been a proverbial phrase, when we remember that Castile is the noblest part of Spain."-SINGER.

This is probably enough the meaning intended; but this edition has not deviated from the old reading, because it looks as if the author meant that Sir Toby should make an accidental or intentional blunder-just as he does as to the viol-de-gamboys, using of choice the vulgar corruption.

"Accost, Sir Andrew"-Sir Andrew did not understand the word "accost;" and since the time of Dryden, who employs it, the use of it in this sense is rare. Sir Toby afterwards explains it, "front her, board her," etc. "Accost" is from the French accoster, and means, strictly, to come side by side, and more generally to approach.

"bring your HAND to the BUTTERY-BAR"-The "buttery" was the place from which meat and drink were formerly delivered. To have a dry hand was formerly considered a symptom of debility, as Stevens shows, by various quotations.

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mistress MALL's picture"-The name of this woman was Mary Frith. She was in the habit of wear

ing men's clothes, and obtained extraordinary celebrity in connection with many low characters of the time. Her picture might be curtained, either because it was considered indecent, or simply, as sir Toby says, to preserve it from the dust. Her death occurred in 1659, and in 1662 her "Life and Death" was published. John Day, the dramatist, wrote a tract upon her "mad pranks," which was entered at Stationers' Hall in August, 1610; but it is not known to have been printed. Possibly, her "Life and Death" (1662) was only Day's tract with additions. All the known particulars regarding her have been collected by the Rev. Mr. Dyce, in his introduction to Decker's and Middleton's comedy, the "Roaring Girl," (1611,) which has a wood-cut of the heroine upon the title-page.

"— a GALLIARD"-A lively dance. "A lighter and more stirring kind of dancing than the pavan," says Morley, a contemporary of Shakespeare; who adds"The Italians make their galliards plain, and frame ditties to them, which, in their mascaradoes, they sing and dance, and manie times without any instruments."

"-a CORANTO" (courante)—A quick dance, as the word indicates, and for two persons, according to Mersenne, ("Harmonie Universelle," 1686.) Morley describes it as " traversing and running, as our countrydance, but hath twice as much in a strain."

"a SINK-A-PACE"-i. e. Cinque pace-" the name of a dance, (says Sir John Hawkins,) the measures whereof are regulated by the number five." In an old Italian work, "Il Ballerino," (1581,) this dance is described as consisting of four steps and a cadence; and, according to Sir John Davis, in his poem on "Dancing"Five was the number of the music's feet,

Which still the dance did with five paces meet.

"a DAMASK-COLOURED STOCK"-" Dam'd coloured stock," or stocking, is the reading of the original editions. Pope altered it to "flame-coloured," which is the common reading. We have preferred Knight's reading, both because it is nearer to the old copy, and therefore more likely to have been misprinted, and because 66 damask-coloured" is a phrase used by Drayton, in the same age; and in this play we have damask cheek.

"TAURUS? that's sides and heart"-" Alluding to the medical astrology still preserved in almanacks, which refers the affections of particular parts of the body to the predominance of particular constellations."-JOHN



"— a BARFUL strife"-i. e. A struggle on my part full of bars, or impediments.


"Enter Maria, and CLOWN"-The Clown in this play, as well as in ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL, is the domestic fool, or jester. In As You LIKE IT, he is the court-fool All three wore "motley."

"-fear no COLOURS"-Maria explains the saying in one way it was born in the wars; referring to the colours of an enemy. It probably meant-I fear no deceptions. Holofernes says, "I do fear colourable colours." (LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST, act iv. scene 2.)

your GASKINS fall"—"Gaskins" were large breeches, or hose. Maria puns upon the word " "points," which were the tags at the ends of strings, used to fasten or sustain the dress, before the common use of buttons.

66 CUCULLUS NON FACIT MONACHUM"-"The cowl does not constitute the monk."

"Mercury endue thee with LEASING"-The sense is not very clear. Johnson says that it is, "May Mercury teach thee to lie, since thou liest in favour of fools."

Warburton would read pleasing, and Hanmer substitutes learning; but Johnson's interpretation seems to be the true one. The Clown means to say, that unless Olivia lied she could not "speak well of fools;" consequently, he prays Mercury to endue her with "leasing," or lying.

"like a SHERIFF'S POST"-The posts at the doors of sheriffs, on which originally proclamations and placards were exhibited, are very often mentioned in writers of the time.


"as a SQUASH is before 'tis a PEASCOD"-The vegetable, familiarly known to us under the name of squash," was not known in England in James the First's reign; and the term meant only an unripe pod of peas. It is thus used again in the WINTER'S TALE.

"a CODLING when 'tis almost an APPLE”—A “codling" (according to Mr. Gifford) means an involucrum, or kell, and was used by our old writers for that early state of vegetation, when the fruit, after shaking off the blossom, began to assume a globular and determinate shape. Mr. Nares says, a "codling" was a young raw apple, fit for nothing without dressing: and that it is so named because it was chiefly eaten when coddled, or scalded-codlings being particularly so used when unripe. Florio interprets" Mele cotte; quodlings, boiled apples."


- very COMPTIBLE""-" Comptible" is accountable; and here seems to mean subject to, or sensitive of, "the least sinister usage.”

"I am to HULL here"-Viola follows up Maria's sea-phrase, and tells her that she is to lie there a little longer. To hull" is to remain "driven to and fro by the waves," as it is expressed in a passage in Philemon Holland's "Translation of Pliny," (1601.)

"-beauty truly BLENT"-i. e. Blended. So, in the MERCHANT OF VENICE, we have

Where every something, being blent together,
Turns to a wild of nothing.

- leave the world no copy"-Shakespeare has expressed the same thought in his Ninth, Eleventh, and Thirteenth" Sonnets."

"loyal CANTONS"-" Cantons" was the old English word for canto. Heywood, in his "Great Britain's Troy," (1609,) calls the seventeen divisions of his poem cantons."

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"I am no FEE'D POST"-I am no paid messenger. "that same PEEVISH messenger"-Another instance, out of many, to prove that in the time of Shakespeare, and earlier, "peevish" did not mean petulant, or testy, but silly, or foolish. In this place Olivia may wish Malvolio not to perceive that she takes any interest about so insignificant a person as "the county's man."

"ourselves we do not owe"-i. e. Own, as in many other places. The meaning, as Malone remarks, is— "we are not our own masters."


"ESTIMABLE wonder"-" Shakespeare often confounds the active and passive adjectives. '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."-JOHNSON.

Thus Milton uses "unexpressive" notes, for unexpressible, in his “Hymn on the Nativity."

"If you will not murder me for my love, let me be your servant”— These words are uttered by Antonio to Sebastian, whom he has saved from drowning. The commentators offer no explanation of them; but we think that they have a latent meaning, and that they allude to a superstition of which Sir Walter Scott has made such admirable use in the Pirate.' Our readers will remember that, when Mordaunt has rescued Cleveland from 'the breach of the sea,' and is endeavouring to restore

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