Sir Toby. The knave counterfeits well; a good knave.

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

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

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

Sir Toby. 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. Fye, 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 stories 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.

say,

Mal. I say, this house is as dark as ignorance, though ignorance were as dark as hell; and I 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 Toby. My most exquisite Sir Topas !
Clo. Nay, I am for all waters.

Mar. Thou mightst have done this without thy beard and gown; he sees thee not.

Sir Toby. 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. 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'y thee, be gone.

Clown sings.

I am gone, sir,

And anon, sir,

I'll be with you again,

In a trice,

Like to the old vice,

Seb. This is the air; that is the glorious sun; This pearl she gave me, I do feel 't and see 't: And though 't is wonder that enwraps me thus, Yet 't is 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 't were so, She could not sway her house, command her followers,

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

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.

SCENE I.-The Street before OLIVIA's House.

Enter Clown and FABIAN.

Fab. Now, as thou lovest me, let me see his letter. Clo. Good Master Fabian, grant me another request.

Fab. Any thing.

Clo. Do not desire to see this letter.

Fab. That is to give a dog, and in recompense desire my dog again.

Enter DUKE, VIOLA, and 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 friends.

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.

good play;

Clo. Primo, secundo, tertio, is 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 further.

Clo. Marry, sir, lullaby to your bounty till 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.

Enter ANTONIO and Officers. Vio. Here comes the man, sir, that did rescue me. Duke. That face of his I do remember well; Yet when I saw it last it was besmeared As black as Vulcan, in the smoke of war: A baubling 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 matter?

1st Offi. Orsino, this is that Antonio That took the Phoenix and her fraught from Candy; And this is he that did the Tiger board, When your young nephew Titus lost his leg:

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-removéd thing,
While one would wink; denied me mine own purse,
Which I had recommended to his use
Not half an hour before.

Enter OLIVIA and Attendants. Duke. Here comes the countess; now heaven walks on earth.

But for thee, fellow, fellow, thy words are madness: 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,

Wherein Olivia may seem serviceable?-
Cesario, you do not keep promise with me.
Vio. Madam?

Duke. Gracious Olivia,

Oli. What do you say, Cesario?-Good, my

lord,

Vio. My lord would speak, my duty hushes me. Oli. If it be aught to the old tune, my lord, It is as fat and fulsome to mine ear As howling after music.

Duke.

Still so cruel?

Oli. Still so constant, lord.

Duke. What! to perverseness? you uncivil lady,

To whose ingrate and unauspicious altars
My soul the faithfull'st offerings hath breathed out
That e'er devotion tendered! What shall I do?
Oli. Even what it please my lord, that shall
become him.

Duke. Why should I not, had I the heart to do it,
Like to the Egyptian thief, at point of death,
Kill what I love? a savage jealousy,
That sometimes savours nobly.-But hear me this:
Since you to non-regardance cast my faith,
And that I partly know the instrument
That screws me from my true place in your favour,
Live you the marble-breasted tyrant still;
But this your minion, whom I know you love,
And whom, by heaven I swear, I tender dearly,
Him will I tear out of that cruel eye,
Where he sits crownéd in his master's spite.—
Come, boy, with me; my thoughts are ripe in
mischief:

I'll sacrifice the lamb that I do love,

To spite a raven's heart within a dove. [Going. Vio. And I, most jocund, apt, and willingly, To do you rest, a thousand deaths would die.

More than I love these eyes, more than my life;
More, by all mores, than e'er I shall love wife :
If I do feign, you witnesses above,
Punish my life, for tainting of my love!

Oli. Ah me, detested! how am I beguiled! Vio. Who does beguile you? who does do you wrong?

Oli. Hast thou forgot thyself? Is it so long? Call forth the holy father. [Exit an Attendant. Duke. Come away. [TO VIOLA. Oli. Whither, my lord? Cesario, husband, stay. Duke. Husband? Oli.

Ay, husband; can he that deny? Duke. Her husband, sirrah? No, my lord, not I.

l'io.

Oli. Alas, it is the baseness of thy fear That makes thee strangle thy propriety: Fear not, Cesario, take thy fortunes up; Be that thou know'st thou art; and then thou art As great as that thou fear'st.-O, welcome, father!

Re-enter Attendant and Priest.

Father, I charge thee, by thy reverence,
Here to unfold (though lately we intended
To keep in darkness what occasion now
Reveals before 't is ripe) what thou dost know
Hath newly past between this youth and me.

Priest. A contract of eternal bond of love, Confirmed by mutual joinder of your hands, Attested by the holy close of lips, Strengthened by interchangement of your rings; And all the ceremony of this compact Sealed in my function, by my testimony: Since when, my watch hath told me, toward my grave

I have travelled but two hours.

Duke. O, thou dissembling cub! what wilt thou be When time hath sowed a grizzle on thy case? Or will not else thy craft so quickly grow That thine own trip shall be thine overthrow? Farewell, and take her; but direct thy feet Where thou and I henceforth may never meet. Vio. My lord, I do protest,—

Hold little faith, though thou hast too much fear. Enter SIR ANDREW AGUECHEEK, with his head broke.

Sir And. For the love of God, a surgeon; send one presently to Sir Toby.

Oli. What's the matter?

Sir And. He has broke my head across, and has given Sir Toby a bloody coxcomb too: for the love of God, your help: I had rather than forty pound I were at home.

Oli. Who has done this, Sir Andrew?

Sir And. The count's gentleman, one Cesario: we took him for a coward, but he's the very devil incardinate.

Duke. My gentleman, Cesario!

Sir And. Od's lifelings, here he is :-You broke my head for nothing; and that that I did, I was set on to do 't by Sir Toby.

Vio. Why do you speak to me? I never hurt you: You drew your sword upon me without cause; But I bespake you fair, and hurt you not.

Sir And. If a bloody coxcomb be a hurt, you have hurt me: I think you set nothing by a bloody coxcomb.

Enter SIR TOBY BELCH, drunk, led by the Clown. Here comes Sir Toby halting; you shall hear more but if he had not been in drink, he would have tickled you othergates than he did.

Duke. How now, gentleman? how is't with you? Sir Toby. That's all one; he has hurt me, and there's the end on 't.-Sot, didst see Dick surgeon, sot?

Clo. O, he's drunk, Sir Toby, an hour agone; his eyes were set at eight i' the morning.

Sir Toby. Then he's a rogue and a passymeasure pavin; I hate a drunken rogue.

Oli. Away with him: Who hath made this havock with them?