ACT IV.

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.

Seb. What relish is in this? how runs the stream?
Let fancy still my sense in Lethe steep;
Or I am mad, or else this is a dream :-

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! [Exe.

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 vent to her, that thou art coming?

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

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!

Be not offended, dear Cesario:-
Rudesby,2 be gone!-I pr'ythee, gentle friend,

[Exeunt Sir Toby, Sir Andrew, and Fabian. Let thy fair wisdom, not thy passion, sway

(1) Let out. (2) Rude fellow. (3) Violence. (4) Made up. (5) Ill betide.

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 whilst. [Exit Maria.

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 competitors? enter.

Enter Sir Toby Belch and Maria. Sir To. Jove bless thee, master parson.

Clo. Bonos dies, sir Toby: for as the old hermit of Prague, that never saw pen and ink, very wittily 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? 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 To. Wel 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. 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.

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

(6) Disguise. (7) Confederates.
(8) Bow-windows.

M

mad than you are; make the trial of it in any constant question.1

Clo. What is the opinion of Pythagoras, concerning wild-fow!?

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 am for all waters.2

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 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. [Exe. Sir Toby and Mar. 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, and 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 4 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! 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 shent5 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 ?

(1)Regular conversation.

(2) Any other gem as a topaz. (3) Senses. (4) Taken possession of.

(5) Scolded, reprimanded.

SCENE III.-Olivia's garden. Enter Sebastian.
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,7
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,8
That I am ready to distrust mine eyes,
To any other trust but that I am mad,
And wrangle with my reason, that persuades me
Or else the lady's mad; yet, if 'twere so,
She could not sway her house, command her fol-
lowers, 10

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,
And underneath that consecrated roof,
Into the chantryll by: there, before him,
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!2 you are willing it shall come to note;
What time we will our celebration keep
According to my birth.-What do
you say?
go

with you;

-And

Seb. I'll follow this good man, and And, having sworn truth, ever will be true. Oli. Then lead the way, good father;heavens so shine, That they may fairly note this act of mine! [Exe.

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.

know not what 'twas, but distraction. Duke. Notable pirate! thou salt-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?
Ant. To-day, my lord; and for three months
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.

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 cov etousness: 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 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 scathfull grapple did he make
With the most noble bottom of our fleet,
That very envy, and the tongue of loss,
Cry'd fame and honour on him.--What's the matter?
1 Off. Orsino, this is that Antonio,
That took the Phoenix, and her fraught2, from
Candy;

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 fats and fulsome to mine ear, As howling after music.

·Duke.'

Still so cruel?

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
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,
(2) Freight.

(1) Mischievous.

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,

(3) Dull, gross

Where he sits crowned in his master's spite.

Sir And. Od's lifelings, here he is :-You broke

chief;

[Following.

Oli. Where goes Cesario? Vio. 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 beguil'd! 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. Come away. [To Viola.

Duke.

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?

Oli.

Ay, husband; Can he that deny? Duke. Her husband, sirrah? Vio.

Oli. Away with him: who hath made this havoc with them?

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

Oli. Alas, it is the baseness of thy fear,
That makes thee strangle thy propriety:1
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,
Confirmed by mutual joinder of your hands,
Attested by the holy close of lips,
Strengthen'd by interchangement of your rings;
And all the ceremony of this compact
Seal'd in my function, by my testimony:

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 Toby, and Sir Andrew. Enter Sebastian.

Seb. I am sorry, madam, I have hurt your kins

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.

Duke. One face, one voice, one habit, and two persons?

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

grave,

I have travelled but two hours.

Duke. O, thou dissembling cub! what wilt thou be, When time hath sew'd 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,—.

Oli. O, do not swear: Hold little faith, though thou hast too much fear. Enter Sir Andrew Ague-cheek, 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?

(1) Disown thy property. (2) Skin. Otherways. (4) Serious dancers.

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,5 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.

(5) Out of charity tell me.