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Sir To. I will do so. Signior Fabian, stay you by this gentleman till my re'urn. [Exit Sir TOBY. Via. Pray you, sir, do you know of this matter? Fab. I know, the knight is incensed against you, even to a mortal arbitrement; but nothing of the circumstance more.

Vio. I beseech you, what manner of man is he? Fab. Nothing of that wonderful promise, to read him by his form, as you are like to find him in the proof of his valour. He is, indeed, sir, the most skilful, bloody, and fatal opposite that you could possibly have found in any part of Illyria: Will you walk towards him? I will make your peace with him, if I can.

Vio. I shall be much bound to you for't: I am one that would rather go with sir priest, than sir knight: I care not who knows so much of my mettle. [Exeunt.

Re-enter Sir TOBY, with Sir Andrew.

Sir To. Why, man, he's a very devil; I have not seen such a virago. I had a pass with him, rapier, scabbard, and all, and he gives me the stuck-in, with such a mortal motion, that it is inevitable; and on the answer, he pays you as surely as your feet hit the ground they step on: They say, he has been fencer to the Sophy.

Sir And. Pox on't, I'll not meddle with him. Sir To. Ay, but he will not now be pacified: Fa bian can scarce hold him yonder.

Sir And. Plague on't: an I thought he had been valiant, and so cunning in fence, I'd have seen him damned ere I'd have challenged him. Let him let the matter slip, and I'll give him my horse, gray Capilet.

Sir To. I'll make the motion: Stand here, make a good show on't; this shall end without the perdition of souls: Marry, I'll ride your horse as well as I ride you. [Aside.

Re-enter FABIAN and VIOLA.

I have his horse [to FAB.] to take up the quarrel; I bave persuaded him the youth's a devil. Fab. He is as horribly conceited of him; and pants, and looks pale, as if a bear were at his heels. Sir To. There's no remedy, sir; he will fight with you for his oath sake: marry, he hath better bethought him of his quarrel, and he finds that now scarce to be worth talking of: therefore draw, for the supportance of his vow; he protests, he will not hurt you.

Vio. Pray God defend me! A little thing would

make me tell them how much I lack of a man.

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Sir To. I'll be with you, anon. [TO ANTONIO. Vio. Pray, sir, put up your sword, if you please. [To Sir ANDREW.

Sir And. Marry, will I, sir ;--and, for that I promised you, I'll be as good as my word: He will bear you easily, and reins well.

1 Off. This is the man; do thy office. 2 Off. Antonio, I arrest thee at the suit Of Count Orsino, You do mistake me, sir;

Ant.

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Nor know I you by voice, or any feature:
I hate ingratitude more in a man,
Than lying, vainness, babbling, drunkenness,
Or any taint of vice, whose strong corruption
Inhabits our frail blood.

I

Ant.

O heavens themselves! 2 Off. Come, sir, I pray you, go. Ant. Let me speak a little. This youth that you see here,

snatch'd one half out of the jaws of death; Reliev'd him with such sanctity of love,And to his image, which methought did promise Most venerable worth, did I devotion.

1 Off. What's that to us? The time goes by; away.

Ant. But, O how vile an idol proves this god!Thou hast, Sebastian, done good feature shame.None can be call'd deform'd but the unkind: In nature there's no blemish, but the mind; Virtue is beauty; but the beauteous-evil Are empty trunks, o'erflourish'd by the devil. 1 Off. The man grows mad; away with him. Come, come, sir.

Ant. Lead me on. [Ereunt Officers with ANTONIO, Vio. Methinks, his words do from such passion

fly,

I bat he believes himself; so do not I.
Prove true imagination, O prove true,
That I, dear brother, be now ta'en for you!

Sir To. Come hither, knight; come hither, Fabian; we'll whisper o'er a couple or two of most sage saws.

Vio. He nam'd Sebastian; I my brother know
Yet living in my glass; even such, and so,
In favour was my brother; and he went
Still in this fashion, colour, ornament,
For him I imitate; O, if it prove,
Tempests are kind, and salt waves fresh in love!

[Exit. Sir To. A very dishonest paltry boy, and more a coward than a hare his dishonesty appears in leaving his friend here in necessity, and denying him; and for his cowardship, ask Fabian.

Fab. A coward, a most devout coward, religious in it.

Sir And. 'Slid, I'll after him again, and beat him. Sir To. Do, cuff him soundly, but never draw thy sword.

Sir And. An, I do not,

Fab. Come, let's see the event.

[Erit.

Sir To. I dare lay any money, 'twill be nothing yet. [Exeunt.

ACT IV.

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 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 themselves 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 SEBASTIAN. 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.

[ACT IV.

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. thou now?

What wouldst

If thou dar'st tempt me further, draw thy sword. Sir To. What, what? Nay, then I must have an [Draws. ounce or two of this malapert blood from you.

Enter OLIVIA.

[Draws.

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, be gone!-I pr'ythee, gentle friend,

[Exeunt Sir TOBY, Sir ANDREW, and FABIAN Let thy fair wisdom, not thy passion, sway In this uncivil and unjust extent

Against thy peace. Go with me to my house;
And hear thou there how many fruitless pranks
This ruffian hath botch'd up, that thou thereby
May'st 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 11.-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 whilst. [Erit 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. Well 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.

Cio. 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.

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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 shent for speaking to you.

Clo. Why, it hath bay-windows, transparent as Mal. Good fool, help me to some light, and barricadoes, and the clear stories towards the south-some paper; I tell thee, I am as well in my wits us north are as lustrous as ebony; and yet complainest any man in Illyria. thou of obstruction?

Mol. 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 abus d: 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 !
Cio. Nay, I am for all waters.

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: 1 would, we were well rid of this knavery. If he may be conveniently

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 count-reit? 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.

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Seb. This is the air; that is the glorious sun; delivered, I would he were ; for I am now so far in This pearl she gave me, I do feel't, and see't: offence with my niece, that I cannot pursue with And though 'tis wonder that enwraps me thus, any safety this sport to the u; shot. Come by-and-Yet, 'tis not madness. Where's Antonio then? by to my chamber. [Exeunt Sir TOBY and MARIA. I could not find him at the Elephant: Clo. Hey, Robin, jolly Robin,

Tell me how thy lady does.

Mal. Fool.

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[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.

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Yet there he was; and there I found this 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 fol-
lowers,

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,
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 soul
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 ;-
heavens so shine,

That they may fairly note this act of mine!

ACT V.

-And

[Exeunt.

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

Fab. Now, as thou lovest me, let me see his letter. Clo. Good master Fabian, grant me another request.

Fab. Any thing.

Clo. Do not desire to see this letter.

Fab. That is, to give a dog, and, in recompense, desire my dog again.

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?

Cio. 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.

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 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 scathful grapple did he nake
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 fraught, from Candy; 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 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, bis 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 heaver

walks on earth.

But for thee, fellow, fellow, thy words are madness: Three months this youth hath tended upon me ; But more of that anon. -Take him aside.

Oli. What would my lord, but that he may not bave,

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 flat and fulsome to mine ear As howling after music.

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Oli. Still so constant, lord. Duke. What! to perverseness? you uncivil lady, To whose ingrate and inauspicious 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 savours 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 favour,
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?
Vie.

[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 beguil'd! Vie. 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? Fio.

?

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.-0, welcome, father!
Re-enter Attendant and Priest.

Father, I charge thee, by thy reverence,
Here to unfold (though letely 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,

Strengthen'd by interchangement of your rings;
And all the ceremony of this compact

Seal'd in my function, by my testimony:

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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, Cesaric?

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 ha voc 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 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 Labit, and two persons;

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

Since when, my watch hath told me, toward my How have the hours rack'd and tortur'd me,

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