SCENE I.-The Street before Olivia's House. Enter SEBASTIAN and Clown.

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, vent 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 strangeness, 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 thou tarry longer, I shall give worse payment.

Clo. By my troth, thou hast an open hand:These wise men that give fools money, get them selves 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 SEB. 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 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 wouldst

Against thy peace. Go with me to my house;
And hear thou there how many fruitless pranks
This ruffian hath botched up, that thou thereby
Mayst 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 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!
Seb. Madam, I will.
Oli.

O, say so, and so be!
[Exeunt.

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 [Exit MARIA.

whilst.

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 competitorss enter.

Enter Sir TOBY BELCH and MARIA.

Sir To. Jove bless thee, Master Parson.

of Prague, that never saw pen and ink, very wittily Clo. Bonos dies, sir Toby: for as the old hermit 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 knave. Mal. [In an inner chamber.] Who calls there? Malvolio, the lunatic. Clo. Sir Topas, the curate, who comes to visit

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 To. Well said, master parson.

Mal. Sir Topas, never was a 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 southnorth 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.

Confederates.

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'm for all waters."

Mar. Thou mightst 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.

Mal. Fool,

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

Clo. Alas, why is she so?

Mal. Fool, I say;

[Singing.

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.

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

Clo. Alas, sir, how fell you beside 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. Malvolio, Malvolio, thy wits the heavens restore! endeavor thyself to sleep, and leave thy vain bibble babble.

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.

I am gone, sir,.
And anon, sir,

Pll 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,
Pare thy nails, dad.
Adieu, good man 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 his 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 folTake, 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.

lowers,

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 sou
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
heaven so shine,

That they may fairly note this act of mine!

[Exeunt.

Clo. Marry, sir, they praise me, and make an ass of me; now my toes 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 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 [Exit Clown. a nap, I will awake it anon.

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 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 bottoin of our fleet, That very envy, and the tongue of loss, Cry'd fame and honor on him. What's the matter? 1 Of. Orsino, this is that Antonio, That took the Phoenix, and her fraught

Candy;

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 state,
In private brabble did we apprehend him.

Vio. He did me kindness, sir; drew on my side;
But, in conclusion, put strange speech upon me,
I know not what 'twas, but distraction.

Duke. Notable pirate! thou sait-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 ingrateful 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 purse,
Which I had recommended to his use
Not half an hour before.

Vio.

How can this be? Duke. When came he to this town?

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 breath'd_out, That e'er devotion tender'd! 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 sometime savors 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 favor,
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 crowned in his master's spite.-
Come boy, with me; my thoughts are ripe in mis-
chief;

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.

Oli. Where goes Cesario?
Vio.

Following.

After him I love,
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 beguild!
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!
Vio.
No, my lord, not I.
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 'tis ripe) what thou dost know
Hath newly past between this youth and me.
Priest. A contract of eternal bond of love,
Confirm'd 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
Seal'd in my function, by my testimony:
Since when, my watch hath told me, toward my
grave,

I have travell'd but two hours.

before,

(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.——

. Freight.

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,-
O, do not swear,

Oli.

• Dull, gross.

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

Oli. Who has done this, sir Andrew?

Sir Ana. 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 To. That's all one; he has hurt me, and there's the end on't.-Sot, did'st see Dick surgeon,

sot?

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

Sir To. Then he's a rogue. After a passy-measure, or a pavin; I hate a drunken rogue.

Oli. Away with him: Who hath made this havoc

with them!

Sir And. I'll help you, sir Toby, because we'll be dressed together.

Sir To. Will you help an ass-head, and a coxcomb, and a knave! a thin-faced knave, a gull! Oli. Get him to bed, and let his hurt be look'd to. [Exeunt Clown, Sir ToвY and Sir ANDREW.

Enter SEBASTIAN.

Seb. O, that record is lively in my soul! He finished, indeed, his mortal act That day that made my sister thirteen years. Vio. If nothing lets to make us happy both, But this my masculine usurp'd attire, Do not embrace me, till each circumstance Of place, time, fortune, do cohere, and jump, That I am Viola: which to confirm, I'll bring you to a captain in this town, Where lie my maiden weeds; by whose gentle help I was preserv'd, to serve this noble count: All the occurrence of my fortune since Hath been between this lady and this lord. Seb. So comes it, lady, you have been mistook: [TO OLIVIA. But nature to her bias drew in that. You would have been contracted to a maid; Nor are you therein, by my life, deceived, You are betroth'd both to a maid and man. Duke. Be not amaz'd; right noble is his blood.— If this be so, as yet the glass seems true, I shall have share in this most happy wreck: Boy, thou hast said to me a thousand times,

¡TO VIOLA.

Thou never shouldst love woman like to me.
Vio. And all those sayings will I over-swear;
And all those swearings keep as true in soul,
As doth that orb'd continent, the tire,
That severs day from night.
Duke.

Give me thy hand;
And let me see thee in thy woman's weeds.
Vio. The captain, that did bring me first on shore,
Hath my maid's garments: he, upon some action,
Is now in durance; at Malvolio's suit,
A gentleman, and follower of my lady's.
Öli. He shall enlarge him;-Fetch Malvolio
And yet, alas, now I remember me,
hither:

They say, poor gentleman, he's much distract. Re-enter Clown, with a Letter.

From my remembrance clearly banish'd his.— A most extracting frenzy of mine own

How does he, sirrah?

man;

But had it been the brother of my blood,

I must have done no less, with wit, and safety.

You throw a strange regard upon me, and

By that I do perceive it hath offended you;

Pardon me, sweet one, even for the vows

We made each other but so late ago.

epistles are no gospels, so it skills not much, when they are delivered.

Oli. Open it, and read it.

Clo. Look then to be well edified, when the fool delivers the madman:- By the Lord, madam,Oli. How now, art thou inad?

Clo. No, madam, I do but read madness: an your

persons;

A natural perspective, that is, and is not.
Seb. Antonio, O my dear Antonio!

How have the hours rack'd and tortur'd me,
Since I have lost thee!

Ant. Sebastian are you?
Seb.

Fear'st thou that, Antonio? Ant. How have you made division of yourself? An apple, cleft in two, is not more twin Than these two creatures. Which is Sebastian? Oli. Most wonderful!

Seb. Do I stand there? I never had a brother:
Nor can there be that deity in my nature,
Of here and every where, I had a sister,
Whom the blind waves and surges have devour'd:-
Of charity, what kin are you to me? [TO VIOLA.
What countryman? what name? what parentage?
Vio. Of Messaline: Sebastian was my father;
Such a Sebastian was my brother too,
So went he suited to his watery tomb:
If spirits can assume both form and suit,
You come to fright us.

Seb.
A spirit I am, indeed;
But am in that dimension grossly clad,
Which from the womb I did participate.
Were you a woman, as the rest goes even,
I should my tears let fall upon your cheek,
And say-Thrice welcome, drowned Viola!
Vio. My father had a mole upon his brow.
Seb. And so had mine.

Vio. And died that day when Viola from her birth Had number'd thirteen years.

[TO FABIAN. Fab. [Reads. By the lord, madam, you wrong me, and the world shall know it: though you have put me into darkness, and given your drunken cousin rule over me, yet have I the benefit of my senses as well as your ladyship. I have your own letter that induced me to the semblance I put on; with the which I doubt not but to do myself much right, or you much shame. Think of me as you please. I leave my duty a little unthought of, and Speak out of my injury. The madly used