Sir To. Thy reason, dear venom, give thy reason. Fab. You must needs yield your reason, Sir Andrew. Sir And. Marry, I faw your niece do more favours to the Duke's ferving-man, than ever fhe bestowed on me. I faw't i' th' orchard.

Sir To. Did the fee thee the while, old boy? tell me that.

Sir And. As plain as I fee you now.

Fab. This was a great argument of love in her towards you.

Sir And. 'Slight! will you make an ass o' me? Fab. I will prove it legitimate, Sir, upon the oaths of judgment and reafon.

Sir To. And they have been grand jury-men finçe before Noah was a failor.

Fab. She did fhew favour to the youth in your fight, only to exasperate you, to awake your dormouse valour, to put fire in your heart, and brimstone in your liver. You fhould then have accofted her with fome excellent jefts fire-new from the mint; you should have bang'd the youth into dumbness. This was look'd for at your hand, and this was baulk'd. The double gilt of this opportunity you let time wath off, "and you are now fail'd into the north of my lady's opinion; "where you will hang like an icicle on a Dutch"man's beard," unless you do redeem it by fome lau"dable attempt, either of valour, or policy.

Sir And. An't be any way, it must be with valour; for policy I hate : I had as lief be a Brownift, as a politician.

Sir To. Why then, build me thy fortunes upon the bafis of valour; challenge me the Duke's youth to fight with him; hurt him in eleven places; my niece fhall take note of it; and affure thyfelf, there is no love-broker in the world can more prevail in man's commendation with woman than report of valour.

Fab. There is no way but this. Sir Andrew.

Sir And. Will either of you bear me a challenge to him?

Sir To. Go, write in a martial hand; be curst and brief: it is no matter how witty, fo it be eloquent, and full of invention: taunt him with the licence of ink; VOL. III.

е

if

;

if thou thou'ft him fome thrice, it fhall not be amifs and as many lyes as will lie in thy sheet of paper, although the fheet were big enough for the bed of Ware in England; fet 'em down, go about it. Let there be gall enough in thy ink, tho' thou write with a goofepen, no matter: about it.

Sir And. Where fhall I find you?

Sir To. We'll call thee at the Cubiculo: go.

SCE NE

[Exit Sir Andrew.

ས.

Fab. This is a dear manikin to you, Sir Toby. Sir To. I have been dear to him, lad, fome two thousand ftrong or fo.

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

Sir To. never trust me then; and by all means ftir on the youth to an answer. I think, oxen and wainropes 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 reft of th'anatomy.

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

Enter Maria.

Sir To. Look, where the youngest wren* of nine

comes.

Mar. If you defire the spleen, and will laugh yourfelves into ftiches, follow me: yond gull Malvolio is turned Heathen, a very renegado; for there is no Christian that means to be faved by believing rightly, can ever believe fuch impoffible paffages of groffness, He's in yellow ftockings.

Sir To. And cross-garter'd?

Mar. Moft villanoufly; like a pedant that keeps a fchool i' th' church: I have dogg'd him, like his murderer. He does obey every point of the letter that I

*The wren is remarkable for laying many eggs at a time, nine or ten, and fometimes more: and as he is the fmalleft of birds, the laft of folge a brood may be fuppofed to be little indeed, which is the image intended here to be given of Maria.

dropt

dropt to betray him; he does fmile his face into more 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 the do, he'll smile, and take't for a great favour.

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

[Exeunt.

SCENE VI. Changes to the street.

Enter Sebaftian, and Antonio.

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

Ant. I could not stay behind you; my defire
(More fharp than filed steel) did fpur me forth;
And not all love to fee you, (tho' fo much
As might have drawn one 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 these arguments of fear,
Set forth in your pursuit.

Seb. My kind Antonio,

I can no other answer make, but thanks,
And thanks, and ever thanks; and oft good turns
Are fhuffled off with fuch uncurrent pay;

But were my worth, as is my conscience, firm,
You should find better dealing. What's to do!
Shall we go
fee the relics of this town?

**

Ant. To-morrow, Sir; beft, first, go see your lodging.

Seb. I am not weary, and 'tis long to night;
I 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,
* Relics, for curiofities.

I

I did fome fervice, of fuch notę, indeed,

That were I ta'en here, it would fcarce be anfwer'd.
Seb. Belike you flew great number of his people.
Ant. Th' 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 traffic's fake,
Most of our city did. Only myself stood out;
For which, if I be lapfed in this place,

I fhall pay dear.

Seb. Do not then walk too open.

Ant. It doth not fit me. Hold, Sir, here's my purse. In the fouth fuburbs at the Elephant

Is beft 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 purfe?

Ant. Haply your eye fhall light upon fome toy You have defire to purchafe; and your store,

I think, is not for idle markets, Sir.

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

Ant. To the Elephant,

Seb. I do remember.

[Exeunt,

SCENE VII. Changes to Olivia's houfe.

Enter Olivia, and Maria.

Oli. I have fent after him; he fays he'll come; How fhall I feast him? what bestow on him?

For youth is bought more oft than begg'd or borrow'd.

I fpeak too loud.

Where is Malvolio? he is fad and civil,

And fuits well for a fervant with my

Where is Malvolio?

fortunes.

Mar. He's coming, Madam; but in very strange

manner.

He is fure poffefs'd, Madam.

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

Mar. No, Madam, he does nothing but fmile; your

Ladyfhip

Ladyship were beft to have fome guard about you, if for fure the man is tainted in his wits.

he come;
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, ha, ha.

[Smiles fantastically. Oli. Smil't thou? I fent for thee upon a fad occafion.

Mal Sad, Lady? I could be fad; this does make fome obftruction in the blood; this crofs-gartering; but what of it? if it please the eye of one, it is with me as the very true fonnet is: Pleafe one, and pleafe all. Oli. Why? how doft thou, man? what is the matter with thee?

Mal. Not black in my mind, tho' yellow in my legs: it did come to his hands, and commands fhall be executed. I think we do know that 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 smile so, and kifs thy hand so oft?

Mar. How do you, Malvolio?

Mal. At your request?

Yes, nightingales anfwer daws!

Mar. Why appear you with this ridiculous bold

nefs before my Lady?

Mal. Be not afraid of greatness.-'Twas well writ. Oli. What meaneft thou by that, Malvolio?

Mal. Some are born great

Oli. Ha?

Mal. Some atchieve greatnefs

Oli. What fay't thou?

Mal. And fome have greatness thrust upon themOli. Heav'n reftore thee!

Mal. Remember who commended thy yellow stock

ings

Oli. Thy yellow ftockings?

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