Seb. I'll be your purse-bearer, and leave you for an let this fellow be looked to. Where's my cousin Toby? hour.

[Exeunt.

Oli. I have sent after him: he says, he'll come.
How shall I feast him? what bestow of him?
For youth is bought more oft, than begg'd, or borrow'd.
I speak too loud.-

Where is Malvolio?-he is sad, and civil,

And suits well for a servant with my fortunes.―
Where is Malvolio?

Mar. He's coming, madam; but in very strange manner. He is sure possess'd, madam.

Oli. Why, what's the matter? does he rave? Mar. No, madam; he does nothing but smile: your ladyship were best to have some guard about you, if he come, for sure the man is tainted in's wits.

Oli. Go call him hither. [Exit MARIA.]-I am as
mad as he,

If sad and merry madness equal be.-
Enter MALVOLIO and MARIA.
Malvolio?

[Smiles ridiculously.

Sir To. Is't possible?

Fab. If this were played upon a stage now, I could condemn it as an improbable fiction.

Sir To. His very genius hath taken the infection of the device, man.

Mar. Nay, pursue him now, lest the device take air,
and taint.

Fab. Why, we shall make him mad, indeed.
Mar. The house will be the quieter.

Sir To. Come, we'll have him in a dark room, and
bound. My niece is already in the belief that he's
mad: we may carry it thus, for our pleasure, and his
penance, till our very pastime, tired out of breath,
prompts us to have mercy on him; at which time, we
will bring the device to the bar, and crown thee for a
finder of madmen. But see, but see.

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

[Exeunt Sir TOBY, FABIAN, and MARIA. Re-enter OLIVIA, with VIOLA.

Oli. I have said too much unto a heart of stone,
And laid mine honour too unchary on't.
There's something in me that reproves my fault,
But such a headstrong potent fault it is,
That it but mocks reproof.

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 master.
Oli. How with mine honour may I give him that,
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.

Enter Sir ANDREW AGUE-CHEEK.
Fab. More matter for a May morning.
Sir And. Here's the challenge; read it: I warrant, Which I have given to you?
there's vinegar and pepper in't.
Vio.

Fab. Is't so saucy?

Sir And. Ay, is't, I warrant him: do but read.
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 matter I challenge thee for."

Fab. Very brief, and to exceeding good sense-less. 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. Sir To. "Fare thee well; and God have mercy upon one of our souls! He may have mercy upon mine; but my hope is better, and so look to thyself. Thy friend, as thou usest him, and thy sworn enemy, ANDREW AGUE-CHEEK." If this letter move him not, his legs cannot. I'll give't him.

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. 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 of despight, bloody as the hunter, attends thee at the orchard end. Dismount thy tuck; be yare in thy preparation, for thy assailant is quick, skilful, and deadly.

Sir To. Go to, sir Andrew; scout me for him at the corner of the orchard, like a bum-bailie. 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!

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 a knight, dubbed with unhatch'd 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.

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.

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, 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 purpose. 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 matter? Fab. I know, the knight is incensed against 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 opposite that you could possibly have found in any part of Illyria. Will you walk towards him? I 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 of my mettle. [Exeunt. Re-enter Sir TOBY, with Sir ANDREW hanging back. Sir To. Why, man, he's a very devil, I have not seen such a firago. 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 I 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 Capulet.

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

Re-enter FABIAN and VIOLA, unwillingly.

I have his horse [To FAB.] to take up the quarrel. I have persuaded him, the youth's a devil.

Fab. He is as horribly conceited of him; [To Sir TOBY] and pants, and looks pale, as if a bear were at his heels.

Sir To. There's no remedy, sir: [TO VIOLA] he will fight with you for's oath sake. Marry, he hath better 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. [Aside.] Pray God defend me! A little thing would make me tell them how much I lack of 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] [They draw, and

oath!

Vio. I do assure you, 'tis against

my will.

Enter ANTONIO.

--

go back from
each other.]

Ant. Put up your sword. If this young gentleman
Have done offence, I take the fault on me:
If you offend him, I for him defy you.

[Drawing.

Sir To. You, sir? why, what are you?
Ant. One, sir, that for his love dares yet do more,
Than you have heard him brag to you he will.
Sir To. Nay, if you be an undertaker, I am for you.
[Drawing.

Enter Officers.

Fab. O, good sir Toby, hold! here come the officers.
Sir To. I'll be with you anon.

Vio. Pray, sir; put your sword up, if you please. Sir And. Marry, will I, sir:--and, for that I proyou, I'll be as good as my word. He will bear you easily, and reins well.

mised

2 Off. Come, sir, away.

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 trouble,
Out of my lean and low ability

I'll lend you something. My having is not much:
I'll make division of my present with you.
Hold, there's 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,
As to upbraid you with those kindnesses
That I have done for you.
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 promise
Most veritable worth, did I devotion.

1 Off. What's that to us? The time goes by: away!
Ant. But, O, how vile an idol proves this god!—
Thou hast, Sebastian, done good feature shame.
In nature there's no blemish, but the mind;
None can be call'd deform'd, but the unkind:
Virtue is beauty; but the beauteous evil
Are empty trunks, o'erflourish'd by the devil.
1 Off. 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 passion fly,
That he believes himself; so do not I.
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 love! [Exit.

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.

Against thy peace. Go with me to my house;
And hear thou there how many fruitless pranks
This ruffian hath botch'd up, that thou thereby

Clo. Will you make me believe that I am not sent May'st smile at this. Thou shalt not choose but go: for you?

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 stream?
Or I am mad, or else this is a dream.
Let fancy still my sense in Lethe steep;
If it be thus to dream, still let me sleep.
Oli. Nay, come, I pr'ythee. Would thou'dst be
rul'd by me!

What would'st thou
[Breaking away.
If thou dar'st tempt me farther, draw thy sword.
Sir To. What, what! Nay then, I must have an
ounce or two of this malapert blood from you.
[They draw and fence.

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!-ricadoes, and the clear stories towards the south-north Be not offended, dear Cesario.

ness 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. [Closing the door.

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 all 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 cham[Exeunt Sir TOBY and MARIA. Clo. "Hey Robin, jolly Robin, Tell me how thy lady does."

ber.

[Singing.

Clo. Master Malvolio!
Mal. Ay, good fool.

Clo. Alas, sir, how fell you besides your five wits? Mal. Fool, there was never man so notoriously abused: I am as well in my wits, fool, as thou art.

Clo. But as well? then you are mad, indeed, if you be no better in your wits than a fool.

Mal. They have here propertied me; keep me in darkness, send ministers to me, asses! and do all they can to face me out of my wits.

Clo. Advise you what you say: the minister is here. [Speaking as sir Topas.]-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 will.

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 degree: I
pr'ythee, be gone.

Clo. [Singing.] I am gone, sir,
And anon, sir,

I'll be with you again,

With a trice,

Like 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,

Pare thy nails, dad,

Adieu, goodman drivel.

SCENE III.-OLIVIA'S Garden.

Enter SEBASTIAN.

[Exit.

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?
I could not find him at the Elephant;
Yet there he was, and there I found this credit,
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 sense,
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 me
To any other trust but that I am mad;
Or else the lady's mad: yet, if 'twere so,
She could not sway her house, command her followers,
Take, and give back, and thus despatch affairs,
With such a smooth, discreet, and stable bearing,
As, I perceive, she does. There's something in't,
That is deceivable. But here the lady comes.
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,
Whiles 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 you,
And, having sworn truth, ever will be true.

Oli. Then lead the way, good father; and heavens

so shine,

That they may fairly note this act of mine! [Exeunt.