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. |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 couplet 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! [Erit. 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. SCENE I. ACT THE FOURTH. 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 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. Sir To. Come on, sir; hold. [Exit Clown. [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. Sir To. Come, sir, I will not let you go. Come, my young soldier, put up your irons you are well fleshed; come on. Seb. I will be free from thee. What wouldst thou now? If thou dar'st tempt me further, draw thy sword.. Draws. Sir To. What, what? Nay, then I must have an ounce or two of this malapert blood from you. Enter OLIVIA. [Draws. 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 Oli. Hold, Toby; on thy life, I charge thee, Malvolio the lunatick. hold. : 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. [Exit 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! 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. Clo. Fye, 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. Clo. Why, it hath bay-windows transparent as barricadoes, and the clear stones towards the south-north are as lustrous as ebony; and yet complainest thou of obstruction? Mal. 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 abused: 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,- 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: I would, we were well rid of this knavery. If he may be conveniently delivered, I would he were; for I am now so far in offence with my niece, that I cannot pursue with any safety this sport to the upshot. Come by and by to my chamber. [Exeunt Sir Toby and Maria. Clo. Hey Robin, jolly Robin, Tell me how thy lady does. [Singing, Mal. Fool, Clo. My lady is unkind, perdy. Mal. Fool, there was never man so notoriously abused: I am as well in my wits, fool, as thou art. Clo. But as well? then you are 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, asses, and do all they can to face me out of my wits. Clo. Advise you what you say; the minister is here. Malvolio, Malvolio, thy wits the heavens restore! endeavour thyself to sleep, and leave thy vain bibble babble. Mal. Sir Topas. Clo. Maintain no words with him, good fellow. Who, I, sir? not 1, 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. Mal. Good fool, help me to some light, and some paper; I tell thec, 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, 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 counterfeit? 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'ythce, be gone. Seb. This is the air; that is the glorious sun; That he did range the town to seek me out. Take, and give back, affairs, and their despatch, Enter OLIVIA and a Priest. Oli. Blame not this haste of mine: If you Now go with me, and with this holy man, And, having sworn truth, ever will be true. That they may fairly note this act of mine! [Exeunt. SCENE I. ACT THE FIFTH. 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? Clo. 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 tripler, 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; 1 Off. Orsino, this is that Antonio, And this is he, that did the Tiger board, 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, Duke. Notable pirate! thou salt-water thief! What foolish boldness brought thee to their mercies, Whom thou, in terms so bloody, and so dear, Antonio never yet was thief, or pirate, purse, Which I had recommended to his use Vio. (No interim, not a minute's vacancy,) Enter OLIVIA and Attendants. Duke. Here comes the countess; now heaven walks on earth. But for thee, fellow, fellow, thy words are mad ness: Three months this youth hath tended upon me; Wherein Olivia may seem serviceable?— Duke. Gracious Olivia, Oli. What do you say, Cesario ?- -Good Vio. My lord would speak, my duty hushes me. Duke. Still so cruel? To whose ingrate and unauspicious altars out, That e'cr 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, That sometime savours nobly?-But hear me Since you to non-regardance cast my faith, Live you, the marble-breasted tyrant, still; Where he sits crowned in his master's spite.- I'll sacrifice the lamb that I do love, Oli. Where gocs Cesario? Oli. Ah me, detested! how am I beguil'd! Oli. Hast thou forgot thyself? Is it so Duke. Her husband, sirrah? Vio. No, my lord, not I. Re-enter Attendant and Priest. Father, I charge thee, by thy reverence, Priest. A contract of eternal bond of love, I have travelled but two hours. Duke. O, thou dissembling cub! what wilt When time hath sow'd a grizzle on thy case? Enter Sir ANDREW Ague-cheek, with his head broke. Sir And. For the love of God, a surgeon; send one presently to Sir Toby. 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, Cesario? 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 [Erit an Attendant. have hurt me; I think, you set nothing by a Come away. [To Viola. | bloody coxcomb. |