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Fab. More matter for a May-morning. Sir And. Here's the challenge, read it; warrant, there's vinegar and pepper in't. Fab. Is't so saucy?

There's something in me, that reproves my fault,
But such a headstrong potent fault it is,

I That it but mocks reproof.

Sir And. Ay, is it, I warrant him: do but


Sir To. Give me. [Reads.] Youth, whatsoever thou art, thou art but a scurvy fellow.

Fab. Good, and valiant.

Sir To. Wonder not, nor admire not in thy mind, why I do call thee so, for I will show thee no reason for't.

Fab. A good note: that keeps you from the blow of the law.

Sir To. Thou comest to the lady Olivia, and in my sight she uses thee kindly: but thou liest in thy throat, that is not the mutter I challenge thee for.

Fab. Very brief, and exceeding good senseless.

Sir To. I will way-lay thee going home; where if it be thy chance to kill me,

Fab. Good.

Sir To. Thou killest me like a rogue and a villain.

Fab. Still you keep o'the windy side of the law: Good.

Vio. With the same 'haviour that your passion bears,

Go on my master's griefs.

Oli. Here, wear this jewel for me, 'tis my picture;

Refuse it not, it hath no tongue to vex you: And, I beseech you, come again to-morrow. What shall you ask of me, that I'll deny; That honour, sav'd, may upon asking give? Vio. Nothing but this, your true love for my


Oli. How with mine honour may I give him Which I have given to you? [that Vio. I will acquit you.

Oli. Well, come again to-morrow: Fare thee well;

A fiend, like thee, might bear my soul to hell. [Exit.

Re-enter Sir TOBY BELCH, and FABIAN.
Sir To. Gentleman, God save thee.
Vio. And you, Sir.

Sir To. That defence thou hast, betake thee to't: of what nature the wrongs are thou hast done him, I know not; but thy intercepter, full Sir To. Fare thee well: And God have mercy of despight, bloody as the hunter, attends thee upon one of our souls! He may have mercy upon at the orchard end: dismount thy tuck,* be mine; but my hope is better, and so look to thy-yaret in thy preparation, for thy assailant is self. Thy friend, as thou usest him, and thy quick, skilful, and deadly. ANDREW AGUE-CHEEK. Sir To. If this letter move him not, his legs cannot: I'll give't him.

sworn enemy.

Mar. You may have very fit occasion for't; he is now in some commerce with my lady, and will by and by depart.

Sir To. Go, Sir Andrew; scout me for him at the corner of the orchard, like a bum-bailiff: so soon as ever thou seest him, draw; and, as thou drawest, swear horrible; for it comes to pass oft, that a terrible oath, with a swaggering accent sharply twanged off, gives manhood more approbation than ever proof itself would have earned him. Away.

Sir And. Nay, let me alone for swearing. [Exit. Sir To. Now will not I deliver his letter: for the behaviour of the young gentleman gives him out to be of good capacity and breeding; his employment between his lord and my niece confirms no less; therefore this letter, being so excellently ignorant, will breed no terror in the youth, he will find it comes from a clodpole. But, Sir, I will deliver his challenge by word of mouth; set upon Ague-cheek a notable report of valour; and drive the gentleman, (as, I know, his youth will aptly receive it, into a most hideous opinion of his rage, skill, fury, and impetuosity. This will so fright them both, that they will kill one another by the look, like cockatrices.


Fab. Here he comes with your niece: give them way, till he take leave, and presently

after him.

Sir To. I will meditate the while upon some horrid message for a challenge.

[Exeunt Sir TOBY, FABIAN, and MARIA. Oli. I have said too much unto a heart of stone,

And laid mine honour too unchary* out:

* Uncautiously.

Vio. You mistake, Sir; I am sure, no man hath any quarrel to me; my remembrance is very free and clear from any image of offence done to any man.

Sir To. You'll find it otherwise, I assure you: therefore, if you hold your life at any price, betake you to your guard; for your opposite hath in him what youth, strength, skill, and wrath, can furnish man withal.

Vio. I pray you, Sir, what is he?

Sir To. He is knight, dubbed with unhacked rapier, and on carpet consideration; but he is a devil in private brawl: souls and bodies hath he divorced three; and his incensement at this moment is so implacable, that satisfaction can be none but by pangs of death and sepulchre : hob, nob, is his word; give't, or take't.

Vio. I will return again into the house, and desire some conduct of the lady. I am no fighter. I have heard of some kind of men, that put quarrels purposely on others, to taste their valour: belike, this is a man of that quirk.‡

Sir To. Sir, no; his indignation derives itself out of a very competent injury; therefore, get you on, and give him his desire. Back you shall not to the house, unless you undertake that with me, which with as much safety you might answer him: therefore, on, or strip your sword stark naked; for meddle you must, that's certain, or forswear to wear iron about you

Vio. This is as uncivil, as strange. I beseech you, do me this courteous office, as to know of the knight what my offence to him is; it is something of my negligence, nothing of my


Sir To. I will do so. Signior Fabian, stay you by this gentleman till my return.

[Exit Sir TOBY. Vio. Pray you, Sir, do you know of this


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you, even to a mortal arbitrement; but nothing of the circumstance more.

Vio. I beseech you, what manner of man is he?

Fab. Nothing of that wonderful promise, to read him by his form, as you are like to find him in the proof of his valour. He is, indeed, Sir, the most skilful, bloody, and fatal oppositet that you could possibly have found in any part of Illyria: Will you walk towards him? Í will make your peace with him, if I can.

Vio. I shall be much bound to you for't: I am one, that would rather go with sir priest, than sir knight: I care not who knows so much [Exeunt. of my mettle.

Re-enter Sir TOBY, with Sir ANDREW. Sir To. Why, man, he's a very devil; I have not seen such a virago. I had a pass with him, rapier, scabbard, and all, and he gives me the stuck-in, with such a mortal motion, that it is inevitable; and on the answer, he pays you as surely as your feet hit the ground they step on: They say, he has been fencer to the Sophy. Sir And. Pox on't, I'll not meddle with him. Sir To. Ay, but he will not now be pacified: Fabian can scarce hold him yonder.

Sir And. Plague on't; an L thought he had been valiant, and so cunning in fence, I'd have seen him damned ere I'd have challenged him. Let him let the matter slip, and I'll give him my horse, grey Capilet.

Sir To. I'll make the motion: Stand here, make a good show on't; this shall end without the perdition of souls: Marry, I'll ride your [Aside. horse as well as I ride you.


Re-enter FABIAN and VIOLA. I have his horse [To FAB.] to take up quarrel; I have persuaded him the youth's a devil. Fub. He is as horribly conceited of him; and pants, and looks pale, as if a bear were at his heels.

Sir To. Nay, if you be an undertaker, I am [Draws. for you.

Enter two OFFICERS.

Fab. O good Sir Toby, hold; here come the officers.

Sir To. I'll be with you anon. [To ANTONIO.
Vio. Pray, Sir, put up your sword, if you
Sir And. Marry, will I, Sir;-and, for that I
promised you, I'll be as good as my word: He
will bear you easily, and reins well.

1 Of. This is the man; do thy office.
2 Off. Antonio, I arrest thee at the suit
Of count Orsino.

Ant. You do mistake me, Sir.

1 Off. No, Sir, no jot; I know your favour well, [head.Though now you have no sea-cap on your Take him away; he knows, I know him well. Ant. I must obey.-This comes with seeking But there's no remedy; I shall answer it. What will you do? Now my necessity Makes me to ask you for my purse: It grieves



Much more, for what I cannot do for you, Than what befalls myself. You stand amaz'd; 2 Of. Come, Sir, away.

But be of comfort.

Ant. I must entreat of you some of that money.
Vio. What money, Sir?

For the fair kindness you have show'd me here,
And, part, being prompted by your present
Out of my lean and low ability [trouble,
I'll lend you something: my having is not

I'll make division of my present with you:
Hold, there is half my coffer.

Ant. Will you deny me now? Is't possible, that my deserts to you Can lack persuasion? Do not tempt my misery, Lest that it make me so unsound a man, Sir To. There's no remedy, Sir; he will fight As to upbraid you with those kindnesses with you for his oath sake: marry, he hath bet-That I have done for you. ter bethought him of his quarrel, and he finds that now scarce to be worth talking of: therefore draw, for the supportance of his vow; he protests, he will not hurt you.

Vio. Pray God defend me! A little thing lack of would make me tell them how much [Aside.

a man.

Fab. Give ground, if you see him furious. Sir To. Come, Sir Andrew, there's no remedy; the gentleman will, for his honour's sake, have one bout with you: he cannot by the duello avoid it: but he has promised me, as he is a gentleman and a soldier, he will not hurt you. Come on; to't.

Sir And. Pray God, he keep his oath!

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I do assure you, 'tis against my will.
Ant. Put up your sword;-If this young

Have done offence, I take the fault on me;
If you offend him, I for him defy you.

Sir To. You, Sir? why, what are you?
Ant. One, Sir, that for his love dares yet do

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Vio. I know of none;

Nor know I you by voice, or any feature:
I hate ingratitude more in a man,
Than lying, vainness, babbling, drunkenness,
Or any taint of vice, whose strong corruption
Inhabits our frail blood.

Ant. O heavens themselves!
2 Off. Come, Sir, I pray you, go.

Ant. Let me speak a little. This youth that
you see here,

I snatch'd one half out of the jaws of death;
Reliev'd him with such sanctity of love,-
And to his image, which, methought, did pro-


Most venerable worth, did I devotion.

1 Off. What's that to us? The time goes by;


Ant. But, O, how vile an idol proves this god!-[shame.Thou hast, Sebastian, done good feature In nature there's no blemish but the mind; None can be call'd deform'd, but tie unkind: Virtue is beauty; but the beauteous-evil Are empty trunks, o'erflourish'd by the devil. 1 Of. The man grows mad; away with him. Come, come, Sir.

Ant. Lead me on.

[Exeunt OFFICERS, with ANTONIO. Vio. Methinks, his words do from such pas sion fly,

That he believes himself; so do not I.

* Ornamented.

Prove true, imagination, O, prove true,
That I, dear brother, be now ta'en for you!
Sir To. Come hither knight; come hither,
Fabian; we'll whisper o'er a couplet or two of
most sage saws.

Vio. He nam'd Sebastian; I my brother know
Yet living in my glass;* even such, and so,
In favour was my brother; and he went
Still in this fashion, colour, ornament,
For him I imitate: O, if it prove,
Tempests are kind, and salt waves fresh in


Sir To. A very dishonest paltry boy, and more a coward than a hare: his dishonesty appears, in leaving his friend here in necessity, and denying him; and for his cowardship, ask Fabian.

Fab. A coward, a most devout coward, religious in it.

Sir And. 'Slid, I'll after him again, and beat


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lyria: though I struck him first, yet it's no matter for that.

Seb. Let go thy hand.

Sir To. Come, Sir, I will not let you go. Come, my young soldier, put up your iron: you are well fleshed; come on.

Seb. I will be free from thee. What would'st thou now?

If thou dar'st tempt me further, draw thy sword. [Draws. Sir To. What, what? Nay, then I must have an ounce or two of this malapert blood from you. [Draws. Enter OLIVIA.

Oli. Hold, Toby; on thy life, I charge thee, hold.

Sir To. Madam?

Oli. Will it be ever thus? Ungracious wretch, Fit for the mountains, and the barbarous caves, Where manners ne'er were preach'd! out of my sight!

Be not offended, dear Cesario:-
Rudesby, be gone!-I pr'ythee, gentle friend,
[Exeunt Sir TOBY, Sir ANDREW, and FABIAN.
Let thy fair wisdom, not thy passion, sway
In this uncivil and unjust extent
Against thy peace. Go with me to my house;
And hear thou there how many fruitless pranks

SCENE I.-The Street before OLIVIA's House. This ruffian hath botch'd up, that thou thereby


Clo. Will you make me believe, that I am not sent for you?

Seb. Go to, go to, thou art a foolish fellow; Let me be clear of thee.

Clo. Well held out, i'faith! No, I do not know you; nor I am not sent to you by my lady, to bid you come speak with her; nor your name is not master Cesario; nor this is not my nose neither.-Nothing, that is so, is so.

Seb. I pr'ythee, ventt thy folly somewhere Thou know'st not me. [else;

Clo. Vent my folly! He has heard that word of some great man, and now applies it to a fool. Vent my folly! I am afraid this great lubber, the world, will prove a cockney.-I pr'ythee now, ungird thy strangeness, and tell ine what I shall vent to my lady; Shall I vent to her, that thou art coming?

Seb. I pr'ythee, foolish Greek, depart from


There's money for thee; if you tarry longer, I shall give worse payment.

Clo. By my troth, thou hast an open hand :These wise men, that give fools money, get themselves a good report after fourteen years' purchase.

Enter Sir ANDREW, Sir TOBY, and FABIAN. Sir And. Now, Sir; have I met you again? there's for you. [Striking SEBASTIAN. Seb. Why, there's for thee, and there, and there:

Are all the people mad? [ Beating Sir ANDREW. Sir To. Hold, Sir, or I'll throw your dagger o'er the house.

Clo. This will I tell my lady straight; I would not be in some of your coats for two-pence. [Exit CLOWN. Sir To. Come on, Sir; hold. [Holding SEBASTIAN. Sir And. Nay, let him alone, I'll go another way to work with him; I'll have an action of battery against him, if there be any law in Il

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May'st smile at this: thou shalt not choose but go;

Do not deny: Beshrew his soul for me,
He started one poor heart of mine in thee.
Seb. What relish is in this? how runs the

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SCENE II-A Room in OLIVIA'S House.

Enter MARIA and CLOWN.

Mar. Nay, I pr'ythee, put on this gown, and this beard; make him believe, thou art Sir Topas the curate; do it quickly: I'll call Sir Toby the whilst. [Exit MARIA.

Clo. Well, I'll put it on, and I will dissemble myself in't; and I would I were the first that ever dissembled in such a gown. I am not fat enough to become the function well; nor lean enough to be thought a good student: but to be said, an honest man and a good housekeeper, goes as fairly, as to say, a careful man, and a great scholar. The competitors¶


Enter Sir TOBY BELCH and MARIA. Sir To. Jove bless thee, master parson.

Clo. Bonos dies, Sir Toby: for as the old hermit of Prague, that never saw pen and ink, very wittily said to a niece of king Gorboduc, That, that is, is: so I, being master parson, am master parson; For what is that, but that? and is, but is?

Sir To. To him, Sir Topas.

Clo. What, hoa, I say,-Peace in this prison! Sir To. The knave counterfeits well; a good


Mal. [In an inner chamber.] Who calls there? Clo. Sir Topas, the curate, who comes to visit Malvolio the lunatic.

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Mal. Sir Topas, Sir Topas, good Sir Topas, | me in darkness, send ministers to me, asses, go to my lady. and do all they can to face me out of my wits.

Clo. Out, hyperbolical fiend! how vexest thou this man? talkest thou nothing but of ladies? Sir To. Well said, master parson.

Mal. Sir Topas, never was man thus wronged: good Sir Topas, do not think I am mad; they have laid me here in hideous darkness.

Clo. Fie, thou dishonest Sathan! I call thee by the most modest terms; for I am one of those gentle ones, that will use the devil himself with courtesy: Say'st thou, that house is dark?

Mal. As hell, Sir Topas.

Clo. Why, it hath bay-windows* transparent as barricadoes, and the clear stones towards the south-north are as lustrous as ebony; and yet complainest thou of obstruction?

Mal. I am not mad, Sir Topas; I say to you, this house is dark.

Clo. Madman, thou errest: I say, there is no darkness, but ignorance; in which thou art more puzzled, than the Egyptians in their fog. Mal. I say, this house is as dark as ignorance, though ignorance were as dark as hell; and I say, there was never man thus abused: I am no more mad than you are; make the trial of it in any constant question.

Clo. What is the opinion of Pythagoras, concerning wild-fowl?

Mal. That the soul of our grandam might haply inhabit a bird.

Clo. What thinkest thou of his opinion? Mal. I think nobly of the soul, and no way approve his opinion.

Clo. Fare thee well: Remain thou still in darkness: thou shalt hold the opinion of Pythagoras, ere I will allow of thy wits; and fear to kill a woodcock, lest thou dispossess the soul of thy grandam. Fare thee well.

Mal. Sir Topas, Sir Topas,

Sir To. My most exquisite Sir Topas!
Clo. Nay, I am for all waters.‡

Mar. Thou might'st have done this without thy beard, and gown; he sees thee not.

Sir To. To him in thine own voice, and bring me word how thou findest him: I would, we were well rid of this knavery. If he may be conveniently delivered, I would he were; for I am now so far in offence with my niece, that I cannot pursue with any safety this sport to the upshot. Come by and by to my chamber. [Exeunt Sir TOBY and MARIA.

Clo. Hey Robin, jolly Robin,

Tell me how thy lady does. [Singing.

Mul. Fool,

Clo. My lady is unkind, perdy. Mal. Fool,

Clo. Alas, why is she so?

Mal. Fool, I say ;

Clo. She loves another-Who calls, ha? Mal. Good fool, as ever thou wilt deserve well at my hand, help me to a candle, and pen, ink, and paper; as I am a gentleman, I will live to be thankful to thee for't.

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Clo. Advise you what you say; the minister is here.-Malvolio, Malvolio, thy wits the heavens restore! endeavour thyself to sleep, and leave thy vain bibble babble.

Mal. Sir Topas,

Clo. Maintain no words with him, good fellow.-Who, I, Sir? not I, Sir. God b'wi'you, good Sir Topas.-Marry, amen.—I will, Sir, I


Mal. Fool, fool, fool, I say,

Clo. Alas, Sir, be patient. What say you, Sir? I am shent for speaking to you.

Mal. Good fool, help me to some light, and some paper; I tell thee, I am as well in my wits, as any man in Illyria.

Clo. Well-a-day,-that you were, Sir!

Mal. By this hand, I am: Good fool, some ink, paper, and light, and convey what I will set down to my lady; it shall advantage thee more than ever the bearing of letter did.

Clo. I will help you to't. But tell me true, are you not mad indeed? or do you but counterfeit?

Mal. Believe me, I am not; I tell thee true. Clo. Nay, I'll ne'er believe a madman, till I see his brains. I will fetch you light, and paper, and ink.

Mal. Fool, I'll requite it in the highest de-
gree: I pr'ythee, begone.
Clo. I am gone, Sir,
And anon, Sir,
I'll be with you again,
In a trice;

Like to the old vice,
Your need to sustain;
Who with dagger of lath,
In his rage and his wrath,
Cries, ah, ha! to the devil:
Like a mad lad,
Pure thy nails, dad,

Adieu, goodman drivel.




Seb. This is the air; that is the glorious sun; This pearl she gave me, I do feel't, and see't: And though 'tis wonder that enwraps me thus, Yet 'tis not madness. Where's Antonio then? Yet there he was; and there I found this credit, I could not find him at the Elephant: That he did range the town to seek me out. His counsel now might do me golden service: For though my soul disputes well with my


That this may be some error, but no madness,
Yet doth this accident and flood of fortune
So far exceed all instance, all discourse,
That I am ready to distrust mine eyes,
And wrangle with my reason, that persuades
To any other trust,|| but that I am mad, [me
Or else the lady's mad; yet, if 'twere so,
She could not sway her house, command her

Take, and give back, affairs, and their des-
With such a smooth, discreet, and stable bear-
As, I perceive, she does: there's something in't,
That is deceivable. But here comes the lady."

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Enter OLIVIA and a PRIEST.

Oli. Blame not this haste of mine: If you
mean well,

Now go with me, and with this holy man,
Into the chantry by: there, before him,
And underneath that consecrated roof,
Plight me the full assurance of your faith;
That my most jealous and too doubtful soul
May live at peace: He shall conceal it,
Whilest you are willing it shall come to note;

What time we will our celebration keep
According to my birth.-What do you say?
Seb. I'll follow this good man, and go with


And, having sworn truth, ever will be true.
Ok. Then lead the way, good father;-And
heavens so shine,

That they may fairly note this act of mine!

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Fab. Any thing.

Clo. Do not desire to see this letter.
Fab. That is, to give a dog, and, in recom-I
pense, desire my dog again.

Enter DUKE, VIOLA, und Attendants.
Duke. Belong you to the lady Olivia, friends?
Clo. Ay, Sir; we are some of her trappings.
Duke. I know thee well; How dost thou, my
good fellow?

Clo. Truly, Sir, the better for my foes, and the worse for my friends.

Duke. Just the contrary; the better for thy


Clo. No, Sir, the worse.
Duke. How can that be?

Clo. Marry, Sir, they praise me, and make an ass of me; now my foes tell me plainly I am an ass: so that by my foes, Sir, I profit in the knowledge of myself; and by my friends I am abused: so that, conclusions to be as kisses, if your four negatives make your two affirmatives, why, then the worse for my friends, and the better for my foes.

Duke. Why, this is excellent.

Clo. By my troth, Sir, no; though it please you to be one of my friends.

Duke. Thou shalt not be the worse for me; there's gold.

Clo. But that it would be double-dealing, Sir, I would you could make it another.

Duke. O, you give me ill counsel.

Clo. Put your grace in your pocket, Sir, for this once, and let your flesh and blood obey it. Duke. Well, I will be so much a sinner to be a double-dealer; there's another.

Clo. Primo, secundo, tertio, is a good play; and the old saying is, the third pays for all: the triplex, Sir, is a good tripping measure; or the bells of St. Bennet, Sir, may put you in mind; One, two, three.

Duke. You can fool no more money out of me at this throw: if you will let your lady know, I am here to speak with her, and bring her along with you, it may awake my bounty


Clo. Marry, Sir, lullaby to your bounty, till + Until.

*Little chapel.

I come again. I go, Sir; but I would not have you to think, that my desire of having is the sin of covetousness: but, as you say, Sir, let your bounty take a nap, I will awake it anon. [Exit CLOWN.


Vio. Here comes the man, Sir, that did rescue


Duke. That face of his I do remember well;
Yet, when I saw it last, it was besmear'd
As black as Vulcan, in the smoke of war:
A bawbling vessel was he captain of,
For shallow draught, and bulk, unprizable;
With which such scathful grapple did he make
With the most noble bottom of our fleet,
That very envy, and the tongue of loss,
Cried fame and honour on him.-What's the

1 Off. Orsino, this is that Antonio,
That took the Phoenix, and her fraught, from
And this is he, that did the Tiger board,
When your young nephew Titus lost his leg:
Here in the streets, desperate of shame, and

In private brabble did we apprehend him.
Vio. He did me kindness, Sir; drew on my


But, in conclusion, put strange speech upon me, know not what 'twas, but distraction.

Duke. Notable pirate! thou salt-water thief! What foolish boldness brought thee to their mercies,

Whom thou, in terms so bloody, and so dear,
Hast made thine enemies?

Ant. Orsino, noble Sir,

Be pleas'd that I shake off these names you
give me ;

Antonio never yet was thief, or pirate,
Though, I confess, on base and ground enough,
Orsino's enemy. A witchcraft drew me hither:
That most ungrateful boy there, by your side,
From the rude sea's enrag'd and foamy mouth
Did I redeem; a wreck past hope he was:
His life I gave him, and did thereto add
My love, without retention, or restraint
All his in dedication: for his sake,
Did I expose myself, pure for his love,
Into the danger of this adverse town;
Drew to defend him, when he was beset;
Where being apprehended, his false cunning,
(Not meaning to partake with me in danger,)
Taught him to face me out of his acquaintance,
And grew a twenty-years-removed thing,
While one would wink; denied me mine own

Which I had recommended to his use
Not half an hour before.

Vio. How can this be?

Duke. When came he to this town?
Ant. To-day, my lord; and for three months

(No interim, not a minute's vacancy,)
Both day and night did we keep company.

Enter OLIVIA and Attendants.

Duke. Here comes the countess; now heaven
walks on earth.-
But for thee, fellow, fellow, thy words are

Three months this youth hath tended upon me;
But more of that anon.Take him aside.

Oli. What would my lord, but that he may
not have,

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