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

Sir To. Why then, build me thy fortunes upon the basis of valour. Challenge me the Count's youth to fight with him; hurt him in eleven places; my niece shall take note of it: and assure thyself, there is no love broker in the world cau 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 it in a martial hand; be curst and brief: it is no matter how witty, so it be eloquent, and full of invention:

taunt him with the licence of ink: if thou thou'st him some thrice, it shall not be amiss; and as many lies as will lie in thy sheet of paper, although the sheet were big enough for the bed of Ware in England, set 'em down; go, about it. Let there be gall enough in thy ink; though thou write with a

goose pen, no matter: About it.

Sir And. Where shall I find you?

Sir To. We'll call thee at the cubiculo: Go.

[Exit SIR ANDREW.

Fab. This is a dear manakin to you, Sir Toby. Sir To. I have been dear to him, lad; two thousand strong, or so.

some

Fab. We shall have a rare letter from him: but you'll not deliver it.

oxen

Sir To. Never trust me then; and by all means stir on the youth to an answer. I think, and wainrobes cannot hale them together. For Andrew, if he were open'd, and you find so much

blood

blood in his liver as will clog the foot of a flea, I'll eat the rest of the anatomy.

Fab. And his opposite, the youth, bears in his visage no great presage of cruelty.

Enter MARIA.

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

Mar. If you desire the spleen, and will laugh yourselves into stitches, follow me: yon' gull Malvolio is turned heathen, a very renegado; for there is no Christian, that means to be sav'd by believing rightly, can ever believe such impossible passages of grossness. He's in yellow stockings. Sir To. And cross-garter'd?

Mar. Most villainously; like a pedant that keeps a school i'the church. I have dogg'd him, like his murderer: He does obey every point of the letter that I dropp'd to betray him. He does smile his face into more lines, than are 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 she do, he'll smile, and take't for a great favour,

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

SCENE III.

A Street.

Enter ANTONIO and SEBASTIAN,

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

VOL. II.

4

Ant. I could not stay behind you; my desire, More sharp than filed steel, did spur me forth; And not all love to see you, (though so much, As might have drawn one to a longer voyage,) But jealousy what might befall your travel, Being skilless in these parts; which to a stranger, Unguided, and unfriended, often prove Rough and unhospitable: 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: Often, good turns
Are shuffled off with such incurrent pay:
But, were my worth, as is my conscience, firm,
You should find better dealing. What's to do?
Shall we go see the reliques of this town?
Ant. To-morrow, Sir; best, first, go see your
lodging.

Seb. I am not weary, and 'tis long to night; I pray you, let us satisfy 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 sea - fight, 'gainst the Count his gallies,
Í did some service; of such note, indeed,

That, were Ita'en here, it would scarce be answer'd.
Seb. Belike, you slew great number of his people.
Ant. The offence is not of such a bloody nature;
Albeit the quality of the time, and quarrel,
Might well have given us bloody argument.
It might have since been answer'd in repaying
What we took from them; which, for traffick's
sake,

Most of our city did: ouly myself stood out:

For which, if I be lapsed in this place,

I shall pay dear.

Seb. Do not then walk too open.

Ant.. It doth not fit me. Hold, Sir, here's my purse:

In the south suburbs, at the Elephant,

Is best to lodge: I will bespeak our diet, Whiles you beguile the time, and feed your knowledge

With viewing of the town: there shall you

have me.

Seb. Why I your purse?

Ant. Haply, your eye shall light upon some toy You have desire to purchase; 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.

SCENE IV.

Olivia's Garden.

Enter OLIVIA, and MARIA.

[Exeunt.

Oli. I have seut after him: He says, he'll come; How, shall I feast him? what bestow on him? For youth is bought more oft,

borrow'd.

than begg'd, or

Where is Malvolio? he is sad, and civil,
And suits well for a servant with my fortunes;
Where is Malvolio?

Mar. He's coming, Madam;

But in strange manner. He is sure possess'd. Oli. Why, what's the matter? does he rave?

Mar. No, Madam,

He does nothing but smile: your Ladyship
Were best have guard about you, if he come;
For, sure, the man is tainted in his wits.

Oli. Go call him hither. I'm as mad as he, If sad and merry madness equal be.

Enter MALVOLIO.

How now, Malvolio?

Mal. Sweet Lady, ho, ho. [Smiles fantastically. Oli. Smil'st thou?

I sent for thee upon a sad occasion.

this cross

Mal. Sad, Lady? I could be sad: This does make some obstruction in the blood, gartering; But what of that? if it please the eye of one, it is with me as the very true sonnet is: Please one, and please all.

Oli. Why, how dost thou, man? what is the matter with thee?

Mal. Not black in my mind, though yellow in my legs: It did come to his hands, and commands shall be executed. I think, we do know the sweet Roman hand.

Oli. Wilt thou go to bed, Malvolio?

Mal. To bed? ay, sweet heart; and I'll come to thee.

Oli. God comfort thee! Why dost thou smile so, and kiss thy hand so oft?

Mar. How do you, Malvolio?

Mal. At your request? Yes; Nightingales an swer daws.

Mar. Why appear you with this ridiculous boldness before my lady?

Mal. Be not afraid of greatness: writ

'T was well