1 Off. What's that to us?-the time goes by;-away. Ant. But, oh, how vile an idol proves this god!Thou haft, Sebaftian, done good feature fhame.— 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, fir.

Ant. Lead me on.

[Exit Antonio with Officers. Vio. Methinks, his words do from fuch paffion fly, That he believes himfelf; "fo do not I,

Prove true, imagination, oh, 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 Sebaftian: I my brother know Yet living in my glass; even fuch and fo, In favour was my brother; and he went Still in this fashion, colour, ornament, For him I imitate: Oh, if it prove,

Tempefts are kind, and falt waves fresh in love!

[Exit.

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

Fab. A coward, a moft devout coward, religious in it.
Sir And. 'Slid, I'll after him again, and beat him.
Sir To. Do, cuff him foundly, but never draw thy fword.
Sir And. An I do not,-
[Exit Sir Andrew.

" o'erflourish'd]-ornamented, as was then the fashion.

jo do not 1.1-I dare not too confidently credit the inference I draw from it.

* in my glass;]-likeness in me, as in a glass.

Fab.

Fab. Come, let's fee the event.

Sir To. I dare lay any money, 'twill be nothing yet.

Exeunt.

I..

A CT IV. SCENE I.

The Street.

Enter Sebaftian and Clown.

Clo. Will you make me believe, that I am not fent 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 fpeak with her; nor your name is not mafter Cefario; nor this is not my nofe neither.-nothing, that is fo, is fo. Seb. I pr'ythee,' yent thy folly somewhere else; Thou know'st not me.

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 ftrangeness, and tell me what I shall vent to my lady; Shall I vent to her, that thou art coming?

Seb. I pr'ythee, foolish Greek, depart from me; There's money for thee; if if you tarry longer,

I fhall give worse payment.

Clo. By my troth, thou haft an open hand:-Thefe wife

Yvent]-utter, give a loose to.

2

a cockney.]-a coxcomb, be overrun with affectation.

Greek,]-Pimp.

men,

men, that give fools money, get themselves a good report after fourteen years' purchase.

Enter Sir Andrew, Sir Toby, and Fabian.

Sir And. Now, fir, have I met you again? there's for you.

[Striking Sebaftian. Seb. Why, there's for thee, and there and there:

Are all the people mad?

[Beating Sir Andrew. Sir To. Hold, fir, or I'll throw your dagger o'er the house.

Clo. This will I tell my lady straight: I would not be in fome of your coats for two pence.

Sir To. Come, fir, hold.

[Exit Clown. [Holding Sebaftian.

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 Illyria: though I ftruck him first, it's no matter for that.

yet
Seb. Let go thy hand.

Sir To. Come, fir, I will not let you go. Come, my young foldier, put up your iron: you are well flesh'd;

come on.

d

Seb. I will be free from thee. What wouldst thou now? If thou dar'st tempt me further, draw thy fword,

Sir To. What, what? Nay, then I must have an ounce or two of this malapert blood from you.

Enter Olivia.

[They draw and fight.

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

Sir To. Madam?

Oli. Will it be ever thus? Ungracious wretch,

b

after fourteen years' purchase.]-at a very high rate.

• Come on, fir.

d

you are well flefb'd;]-have beaten him fufficiently; are fairly

entered.

Fit for the mountains, and the barbarous caves,

Where manners ne'er were preach'd! out of my fight!

Be not offended, dear Cefario:--

Rudesby, be gone!-I pr'ythee, gentle friend,

[Exeunt Sir Toby and Sir Andrew.

Let thy fair wisdom, not thy paffion, fway

f

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
May'st smile at this: thou shalt not chuse but go;
Do not deny: Befhrew his foul for me,

g

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 ftill my fenfe in Lethe steep;

If it be thus to dream, ftill let me fleep!

Oli. Nay, come, I pr'ythee: 'Would, thou'dft be rul'd by me!

Seb. Madam, I will.

Oli. O, fay fo, and fo be!

SCENE

II.

An Apartment in Olivia's Houfe.

Enter Maria, and Clown.

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

e extent]-act of violence-an extent is a writ of execution in aid of the king.

f botch'd up,]-patch'd up, made up difgracefully. beart]-half my heart was involved in this attack upon thee-bart. What relish is in this ?]-What opinion am I to form of this?

Clo.

i

Clo. Well, I'll put it on, and I will diffemble myself in't; and I would I were the first that ever diffembled in fuch a gown. I am not tall enough to become the function well; nor lean enough to be thought a good student: but to be faid, an honeft man, and a good housekeeper, goes as fairly, as to fay, a * careful man, and a great scholar. The competitors enter.

k

Enter Sir Toby and Maria.

Sir To. Jove bless thee, mafter parfon..

Clo. Bonos dies, fir Toby: for as the old hermit of Prague, that never faw pen and ink, very wittily faid to a niece of king Gorboduc, That, that is, is: fo I, being master parfon, am mafter parfon; For what is that, but that; and is, but is?

Sir To. To him, fir Topas.

Clo. What, hoa, I fay,-Peace in this prison!

Sir To. The knave counterfeits well; a good knave.
Mal. [Within.] Who calls there?

Clo. Sir Topas, the curate, who comes to vifit Malvolio the lunatick.

Mal. Sir Topas, fir Topas, good fir Topas, go to my lady.

Clo. Out, hyperbolical fiend! how vexeft thou this man? talkeft thou nothing but of ladies?

Sir To. Well faid, mafter parfon.

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

Clo. Fye, thou dishonest Sathan! I call thee by the moft modest terms; for I am one of thofe gentle ones, that will use the devil himself with courtesy; Say'ft thou," this houfe is dark?

tall]-big.

* graceful.
k

1 competitors]-confederates.

that.

Mal.