Ant. Let me fpeak a little. This youth that you fee

here,

I fnatch'd one half out of the jaws of death;
Reliev'd him with fuch fanctity of love,

And to his image, which, methought, did promife
Moft venerable worth, did I devotion.

1 Off. What's that to us? the time goes by; away.
Ant. But oh, how vile an idol proves this God!
Thou haft, Sebaftian, done good feature shame.
In nature there's no blemish but the mind:
None can be call'd deform'd, but the unkind.
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. [Exit Anthonio with Officers. Vio. Methinks, his words do from fuch paffion fly, That he believes himself; fo do not I:

Prove true, imagination, oh, 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 couplet or two of most fage faws. Vio. He nam'd Sebaftian; I my brother know Yet living in my glass; even fuch, and so In favour was my brother; and he went Still in this fashion, colour, ornament; For him I imitate: oh, if it prove,

Tempests are kind, and falt waves fresh in love. [Exit. Sir To. A very dishonest paltry boy, and more a coward than a hare; his difhonefty appears in leaving his friend here in neceffity, and denying him; and for his cowardship, ask Fabian.

Fab. A coward, a moft devout coward, religious in it.
Sir And. 'Slid, I'll after him again, and beat him.
Sir To. Do, cuff him foundly, but never draw thy fword.
Sir And. An I do not,
[Exit Sir Andrew.

Fab. Come, let's fee the event.

Sir To. 1 dare lay any mony, 'twill be nothing yet.

[Exeunt.

ACT

A C T IV.

SCENE, The Street:

Enter Sebaftian, and Clown.

CLOWN.

WILL you make me believe, that I am not fent

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 mafter Cefario, nor this is not my nofe neither; nothing, that is fo, is

fo.

Seb. I pr'ythee, vent thy folly fomewhere else; thou know'ft not me.

Clo. Vent my folly! he has heard that word of fome 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 ftrangeness and tell me what I fhall vent to my Lady; fhall I vent to her, that thou art coming?

Seb. I pr'ythee, foolish Greek, depart from me; there's mony for thee. If you tarry longer, I fhall give worfe payment.

Clo. By my troth, thou haft an open hand ; thefe wife men, that give fools mony, get themfelves 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 Sebaftian. I

Seb...

Seb. Why, there's for thee, and there, and there: are all the people mad? [Beating Sir Andrew. Si. To. Hold, sir, or I'll throw your dagger o'er the

house.

Clo. This will I tell my Lady ftrait: 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; tho' I ftruck him firft, 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 flesh'd:

come on.

Seb. I will be free from thee. What wouldst 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. [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 :

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

[Exeunt Sir Toby, and Sir Andrew. Let thy fair wisdom, not thy paffion, fway In this uncivil and unjuft 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'ft fmile at this: thou shalt not chufe but go:
Do not deny ; befhrew his foul for me,

He ftarted 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

Lét fancy fill my fene in Lethe deep,
If it be thus to dream, itill let me fleep.

Oli. Nay, come, I pray: 'would, thou'dft be rul'd

by me.

Seb. Madam, I will.

Oli. O, fay fo, and fo ber

[Exeunt.

SCENE, an Apartment in Olivia's House.

N

Enter Maria, and Clown.

Mar. and this AY, I pr'ythee, put on this gown, 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 firit 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 careful man and a great fcholar. The competitors enter.

Enter Sir Toby, and Maria.

Sir To. Jove bless 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 neice 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?

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 lunatick.

Mal. Sir Topas, Si 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. 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 dishoneft fathan; I call thee by the moft modest terms; for I am one of those gentle ones, that will use the devil himself with curtefie: fay'ft thou, that house is dark?

Mal. As hell, Sir Topas.

Clo. Why, it hath bay windows tranfparent as baricadoes, and the clear ftones 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 houfe is dark.

Clo. Madmen, thou erreft; I fay, there is no darkness but ignorance; in which thou art more puzzled than the Egyptians in their fog.

1

Mal. I fay, this houfe is as dark as ignorance, though ignorance were as dark as hell; and I fay, there was never man thus abus'd; I am no more mad than you are, make the tryal 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'st thou of his opinion ?

Mal. I think nobly of the foul, and no way approve his opinion.

Clo. Fare thee well remain thou ftill in darkness; thou shalt hold th' opinion of Pythagoras, ere I will allow of thy wits; and fear to kill a woodcock, left thou dif poffefs 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.

Mar.