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fet 'em down, go, about it. Let there be gall enough in thy ink; though thou write with a goose-pen, no matter: About it.

Sir And. Where shall I find you?


Sir To. We'll call thee at thy * Cubiculo: Go.

[Exit Sir Andrew. Fab. This is a dear manakin to you, fir Toby. Sir To. I have been dear to him, lad; fome two thoufand strong, or fo.

Fab. We fhall have a rare letter from him: but you'll not deliver't.

Sir To. Never truft me then: and by all means stir on the youth to an answer, I think, oxen and wain-ropes cannot hale them together. For Andrew, if he were open'd, and you find fo much blood in his liver as will clog the foot of a flea, I'll eat the rest of the anatomy.

Fab. And his oppofite, the youth, bears in his visage no great prefage of cruelty.

Enter Maria.

Sir To. Look, where the youngest wren of nine


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Mar. If you defire the spleen, and will laugh yourselves into stitches, follow me: yon' gull Malvolio is turned heathen, a very renegado; for there is no christian, that means to be fav'd by believing rightly, can ever believe fuch impoffible paffages of groffnefs. He's in yellow ftockings.

Sir To. And cross-garter'd?

Mar. Most villainously; like a pedant that keeps a fchool i'the church.-I have dogg'd him, like his murtherer: He does obey every point of the letter that I dropp'd to betray him. He does fmile his face into more

* Cubiculo:]-Bed-chamber.


youngest wren of nine]-from her low ftature.

lines, than is in the new map, with the augmentation of the Indies: you have not seen such a thing as 'tis; I can hardly forbear hurling things at him. I know, my lady will strike him; if she do, he'll smile, and take't for a great favour.

Sir To. Come, bring us, bring us where he is. [Exeunt.


The Street.

Enter Antonio and Sebaftian.

Seb. I would not, by my will, have troubled you;
But, fince you make your pleasure of
your pleasure of your pains,
I will no further chide you.

Ant. I could not stay behind you; my defire,
More fharp than filed fteel, did fpur me forth;

And not all love to fee you, (though fo much,
As might have drawn me to a longer voyage)
But jealoufy what might befal your travel,
Being skillefs in thefe parts; which to a stranger,
Unguided, and unfriended, often prove
Rough and unhofpitable: My willing love,
The rather by thefe arguments of fear,
Set forth in your pursuit.

Seb. My kind Antonio,

I can no other anfwer make, but, thanks,
And thanks again, and ever: Oft good turns
Are fhuffled off with fuch uncurrent pay :
But, were my "worth, as is my confcience, firm,
You should find better dealing. What's to do?
Shall we go fee the reliques of this town?

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And not all love to see you,]—Love to fee you was not all the caufe, tho' fo much was that love's quantity. worth,]-wealth, fortune.


Ant. To-morrow, fir; beft, firft, go fee your lodging.

Seb. I am not weary, and 'tis long to night; pray you, let us fatisfy our eyes


With the memorials, and the things of fame,
That do renown this city.

Ant. 'Would, you'd pardon me;

I do not without danger walk these streets:
Once, in a fea-fight, 'gainst the duke his gallies,
I did fome fervice; of fuch note, indeed,

That were I ta'en here, it would scarce be answer❜d.
Seb. Belike, you flew great number of his people.
Ant. The offence is not of fuch a bloody nature;
Albeit the quality of the time, and quarrel,
Might well have given us bloody argument.
It might have fince been anfwer'd in repaying
What we took from them; which, for traffick's fake,
Most of our city did: only myself stood out:
For which, if I be lapsed in this place,


I fhall pay dear.

Seb. Do not then walk too open.

Ant. It doth not fit me. Hold, fir, here's my purse: In the fouth suburbs, at the Elephant,

Is best to lodge: I will bespeak our diet,

Whiles you beguile your time, and feed your knowledge,
With viewing of the town; there fhall you have me.
Seb. Why I your purse?

Ant. Haply, your eye fhall light upon fome toy
You have defire to purchase; and your store,
I think, is not for idle markets, fir.

Seb. I'll be your purfe-bearer, and leave you for
An hour.

Ant. To the Elephant.

Seb. I do remember.


I be lapfed-found a defaulter.




Olivia's Houfe.

Enter Olivia and Maria.

Oli. I have fent after him: He fays, he'll come; How fhall I feaft him? what beftow on him?

For youth is bought more oft, than begg'd, or borrow'd. I speak too loud.

Where is Malvolio?-he is fad and civil,

And fuits well for a fervant with my fortunes;

Where is Malvolio?

Mar. He's coming, madam; but in very strange manner. He is fure, poffeft, madam.

Oli. Why, what's the matter? does he rave?

Mar. No, madam,


He does nothing but fmile; your ladyship were beft
To have some guard about you, if he come,
For, fure, the man is tainted in his wits.

Oli. Go call him hither.-I'm as mad as he.

Enter Malvolio.

If fad and merry madness equal be.-
How now, Malvolio?

Mal. Sweet lady, ho, ho.

Oli. Smil'ft thou?

[Smiles fantastically.

I fent for thee upon a fad occafion.

Mal. Sad, lady? I could be fad: This does make fome obstruction in the blood, this cross-gartering; But what of that? if it please the eye of one, it is with me as the very true fonnet is: Please one, and please all.

He fays,]-Suppofe he says.

Oli. Why, how doft thou, man? what is the matter with thee?

Mal. Not black in my mind, though yellow in my legs: It did come to his hands, and commands shall be executed. I think, we do know the fweet Roman hand.

Oli. Wilt thou go to bed, Malvolio?

Mal. To bed? ay, fweet heart; and I'll come to thee. Oli. God comfort thee! Why doft thou fmile fo, and kifs thy hand fo oft?

Mar. How do you, Malvolio?

Mal. At your request? Yes; Nightingales anfwer daws. Mar. Why appear you with this ridiculous boldness before my lady?

Mal. Be not afraid of greatnefs :-'Twas well writ.
Oli. What meanest thou by that, Malvolio?

Mal. Some are born great,—

Oli. Ha!

Mal. Some atchieve greatness,

Oli. What say'st thou?

Mal. And fome have greatness thrust upon them.

Oli. Heaven restore thee!

Mal. Remember, who commended thy yellow ftockings;-

Oli. Thy yellow ftockings?

Mal. And wifh'd to fee thee cross-garter'd.

Oli. Cross-garter'd?

Mal. Go to: thou art made, if thou defireft to be fo

Oli. Am I made?

Mal. If not, let me fee thee a fervant still.

Oli. Why, this is a very midsummer madness.

Enter Servant.

Serv. Madam, the young gentleman of the count Orfino's is return'd; I could hardly entreat him back he attends your ladyship's pleasure.

g a very midfummer]-the height of.

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