Sir To. Hold, Sir, or I'll throw your dagger o'er the house. Clo. This will I tell my Lady ftraight. I would not be in fome of your coats for two-pence. [Exit Clown. Sir To. Come on, Sir; hold. [Holding Sebaftian. 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 ftruck 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 foldier, put up your iron; you are well flefh'd come on. Seb. I will be free from thee. What wouldft thou now? If thou dar'ft tempt me further, draw thy fword. Sir To. What, what? nay, then, I must have an ounce or two of this malapert blood from you. SCENE II. [They draw and fight. Enter Olivia. 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 fight! Be not offended, dear Cefario : Rudefby, be gone! I pr'ythee, gentle friend, [Exeunt Sir Toby, and Sir Andrew. Let thy fair wisdom, not thy paffion, sway In this uncivil and unjust extent Against thy peace. Go with me to my house, go: Seb. What relifh is in this? how runs the stream? He started one poor heart of mine in thee. Or I am mad, or else this is a dream. If it be thus to dream, ftill let me fleep. Let fancy ftill my fenfe in Lethe steep, * i. e. fwelled and inflamed; a botch being a swelling or an abfcefs. Oli. Nay, come, I pray: 'would thou'dst be rul'd by me. Seb. Madam, I will. Oli. O, fay fo, and so be! [Exeunt. SCENE III. An apartment in Olivia's houfe. 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 whilft. [Exit Maria. Clo. Well, I'll put it on, and I will diffemble myself in't; and I would I were the first that ever diffembled in fuch a gown. I am not tall enough to become the function well, nor lean enough to be thought a good ftudent; but to be faid an honeft man and a good housekeeper, goes as fairly as to fay, a graceful man and a great scholar. The competitors enter. Enter Sir Toby and Maria. Sir To. Jove blefs thee, Mr. Parfon. Clo. Bonos dies, Sir Toby; "for as the old hermit "of Prague, that never faw pen and ink, very wittily "faid to a niece of King Gorboduck, that that is, is; "fo I being Mr. Parfon, am Mr. Parfon; for what is that, but that? and is, but is ?" 56 Sir To. To him, Sir Topas. Clo. What, hoa, I fay,―peace in this prifon! Sir To. The knave counterfeits well; a good knave. [Malvolio within. Mal. Who calls there? Clo. Sir Topas the curate, who comes to vifit Malvolio the lunatic. [This and what follows from the Clown, in a counterfeit voice.] Mal. Sir Topas, Sir Topas, good Sir Topas, go to my Lady. Clo. Out, hyperbolical fiend, how vexeft thou this man? Talkeft thou of nothing but ladies? Sir To. Well, faid, Master Parson.. $ Mal. Mal. Sir Topas, never was man thus wrong'd; good Sir Topas, do not think I am mad; they have laid me here in hideous darkness. Clo. Fie, thou difhoneft Sathan; I call thee by the moft modeft terms; for I am one of thofe gentle ones, that will ufe the devil himself with courtesy: fay'ft thou that houfe is dark? Mal. As hell, Sir Topas. Clo. Why, it hath bay windows tranfparent as barricadoes, and the clear stones towards the fouth-north are as luftrous as ebony; and yet complainest thou of obftruction? Mal. I am not mad, Sir Topas; I fay to you, this house is dark. Clo. Madman, thou erreft; I fay, there is no darknefs but ignorance; in which thou art more puzzled than the Egyptians in their fog. Mal. I fay, this houfe is as dark as ignorance, tho' ignorance were as dark as hell; and I fay, 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 foul of our grandam might happily inhabit a bird. Clo. What think'ft thou of his opinion? Mal. I think nobly of the foul, and no way approve of his opinion. Clo. Fare thee well: remain thou fill in darkness; thou fhalt hold th' opinion of Pythagoras ere I will allow of thy wits; and fear to kill a woodcock, left thou difpoffefs the foul of thy grandam. Fare thee well. Mal. Sir Topas, Sir Topas ! Sir To. My moft exquifite Sir Topas ! Clo. Nay, I am for all waters*. [This in his own voice. Mar. Thou might't have done this without thy beard and gown; he fees thee not. Sir To. To him in thine own voice, and bring me word how thou find'ft him: I would we were all rid of this knavery. If he may be conveniently deliver'd, I * A phaken m_the actor's ability of making the audience cry either with mirth or grief. would would he were; for I am now fo far in offence with my niece, that I cannot purfue with any fafety this fport to the upshot. Come by and by to my chamber. [Exit with Maria. Clo. Hey Robin, jolly Robin, tell me how my Lady does. Clo. She loves another—who calls, ha? [Singing. 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 Mr. Malvolio ! Mal. Ay, good fool. Clo. Alas, Sir, how fell you befides your five wits? Mal. Fool, there was never man fo notoriously abus'd; I am as well in my wits, fool, as thou art. Clo. But as well! then thou art 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, affes, and do all they can to face me out of my wits. Clo. Advise you what you fay; the minifter is here.Malvolio, Malvolio, thy wits the heav'ns restore; endeavour thyself to fleep, and leave thy vain bibble babble. [In a counterfeit voice. Mal. Sir Topas, Clo. Maintain no words with him, good fellow. [In the counterfeit voice. Who, I, Sir? not I, Sir. God b'w'you, good Sir Topas [In his own voice. Marry, amen. [Counterfeit.]I will, Sir, I will. [In his own voice. Mal. Fool, fool, fool, I fay. Clo. Alas, Sir, be patient. What fay you, Sir? I am fhent for speaking to you. 52 Mel. Mal. Good fool, help me to fome light, and fome 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, fome ink, paper, and light; and convey what I fet down to my Lady: it fhall 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. I am gone, Sir, and anon, Sir, In a trice, like to the old vice, Your need to fuftain: [Singing. [wrath, Who with dagger of lath, in his rage, and his Cries, Ab, ha! to the devil: Like a mad lad, pare thy nails, dad, Adieu, good man drivel. SCENE V. [Exit. Changes to another apartment in Olivia's houfe. Enter Sebastian. Seb. This is the air, that is the glorious fun; Yet there he was, and there I found this credit*, *Credit, for account, information. Deflance, for lenfe; discourse, for reafon. That |