[Drawing.]

SIR TOBY. You, sir! why, what are you?

ANTONIO. One, sir, that for his love dares yet do more Than you have heard him brag to you he will.

SIR TOBY. Nay, if you be an undertaker, I am for you.

[Draws.]

[Enter two Officers.]

FABIAN. O good Sir Toby, hold; here come the officers.

SIR TOBY. [To ANTONIO] I'll be with you anon.

VIOLA. [To Sir Andrew.] Pray, sir, put your sword up, if you please.

SIR ANDREW. 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.

FIRST OFFICER. This is the man; do thy office.

SECOND OFFICER. Antonio, I arrest thee at the suit Of Count Orsino.

ANTONIO. You do mistake me, sir.

FIRST OFFICER. No, sir, no jot; I know your favour well, Though now you have no sea-cap on your head.— Take him away; he knows I know him well.

ANTONIO. I Must obey.—This comes with seeking you; But there's no remedy; I shall answer it. What will you do? Now my necessity Makes me to ask you for my purse. It grieves me Much more for what I cannot do for you Than what befalls myself. You stand amazed; But be of comfort.

SECOND OFFICER. Come, sir, away.

ANTONIO. I must entreat of you some of that money.

VIOLA. What money, sir? For the fair kindness you have showed me here, And part being prompted by your present trouble, Out of my lean and low ability I'll lend you something; my having is not much; I'll make division of my present with you: Hold, there is half my coffer.

ANTONIO. Will you deny me now? Is't possible that my deserts to you Can lack persuasion? Do not tempt my misery, Lest that it make me so unsound a man As to upbraid you with those kindnesses That I have done for you.

VIOLA. I know of none, 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.

ANTONIO. O heavens themselves!

SECOND OFFICER. Come, sir, I pray you go.

ANTONIO. Let me speak a little. This youth that you see here I snatched one half out of the jaws of death, Relieved him with such sanctity of love,— And to his image, which methought did promise Most venerable worth, did I devotion.

FIRST OFFICER. What's that to us? The time goes by; away.

ANTONIO. But O how vile an idol proves this god! Thou hast, Sebastian, 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'erflourished by the devil.

FIRST OFFICER. The man grows mad; away with him. Come, come, sir.

ANTONIO. Lead me on.

[Exeunt Officers with ANTONIO.]

VIOLA. Methinks his words do from such passion fly That he believes himself; so do not I. Prove true, imagination; O prove true, That I, dear brother, be now ta'en for you!

SIR TOBY. Come hither, knight; come hither, Fabian; we'll whisper o'er a couplet or two of most sage saws.

VIOLA. He named 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 TOBY. 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.

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

SIR ANDREW. 'Slid, I'll after him again and beat him.

SIR TOBY. Do, cuff him soundly, but never draw thy sword.

SIR ANDREW. And I do not,—

[Exit.]

FABIAN. Come, let's see the event.

SIR TOBY. I dare lay any money 'twill be nothing yet.

[Exeunt.]



ACT IV.

SCENE I. The Street before OLIVIA'S House.

[Enter SEBASTIAN and CLOWN.]

CLOWN. Will you make me believe that I am not sent for you?

SEBASTIAN. Go to, go to, thou art a foolish fellow; Let me be clear of thee.

CLOWN. 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.

SEBASTIAN. I pr'ythee vent thy folly somewhere else. Thou know'st not me.

CLOWN. 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?

SEBASTIAN. I pr'ythee, foolish Greek, depart from me; There's money for thee; if you tarry longer I shall give worse payment.

CLOWN. 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 ANDREW. Now, sir, have I met you again? there's for you.

[Striking SEBASTIAN.]

SEBASTIAN. Why, there's for thee, and there, and there. Are all the people mad?

[Beating SIR ANDREW.]

SIR TOBY. Hold, sir, or I'll throw your dagger o'er the house.

CLOWN. This will I tell my lady straight. I would not be in some of your coats for twopence.

[Exit CLOWN.]

SIR TOBY. Come on, sir; hold.

[Holding SEBASTIAN.]

SIR ANDREW. 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.

SEBASTIAN. Let go thy hand.

SIR TOBY. Come, sir, I will not let you go. Come, my young soldier, put up your iron: you are well fleshed; come on.

SEBASTIAN. I will be free from thee. What wouldst thou now? If thou dar'st tempt me further, draw thy sword.

[Draws.]

SIR TOBY. What, what? Nay, then I must have an ounce or two of this malapert blood from you.

[Draws.]

[Enter OLIVIA.]

OLIVIA. Hold, Toby; on thy life, I charge thee hold.

SIR TOBY. Madam?

OLIVIA. 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 Mayst 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.

SEBASTIAN. 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!

OLIVIA. Nay, come, I pr'ythee. Would thou'dst be ruled by me!

SEBASTIAN. Madam, I will.

OLIVIA. O, say so, and so be!

[Exeunt.]



SCENE II. A Room in OLIVIA'S House.

[Enter MARIA and CLOWN.]

MARIA. 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.]

CLOWN. 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 tall 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 TOBY. Jove bless thee, Master Parson.

CLOWN. 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 TOBY. To him, Sir Topas.

CLOWN. What, hoa, I say,—Peace in this prison!

SIR TOBY. The knave counterfeits well; a good knave.

MALVOLIO. [In an inner chamber.] Who calls there?

CLOWN. Sir Topas the curate, who comes to visit Malvolio the lunatic.

MALVOLIO. Sir Topas, Sir Topas, good Sir Topas, go to my lady.

CLOWN. Out, hyperbolical fiend! how vexest thou this man? talkest thou nothing but of ladies?

SIR TOBY. Well said, master parson.

MALVOLIO. Sir Topas, never was man thus wronged: good Sir Topas, do not think I am mad; they have laid me here in hideous darkness.

CLOWN. 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?

MALVOLIO. As hell, Sir Topas.

CLOWN. Why, it hath bay windows transparent as barricadoes, and the clear storeys toward the south-north are as lustrous as ebony; and yet complainest thou of obstruction?

MALVOLIO. I am not mad, Sir Topas; I say to you this house is dark.

CLOWN. Madman, thou errest. I say there is no darkness but ignorance; in which thou art more puzzled than the Egyptians in their fog.

MALVOLIO. 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. I am no more mad than you are; make the trial of it in any constant question.

CLOWN. What is the opinion of Pythagoras concerning wild-fowl?

MALVOLIO. That the soul of our grandam might haply inhabit a bird.

CLOWN. What thinkest thou of his opinion?

MALVOLIO. I think nobly of the soul, and no way approve his opinion.

CLOWN. 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.

MALVOLIO. Sir Topas, Sir Topas!

SIR TOBY. My most exquisite Sir Topas!

CLOWN. Nay, I am for all waters.

MARIA. Thou mightst have done this without thy beard and gown: he sees thee not.

SIR TOBY. 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.]

CLOWN. [Singing.] 'Hey, Robin, jolly Robin, Tell me how thy lady does.'

MALVOLIO. Fool,—

CLOWN. 'My lady is unkind, perdy.'

MALVOLIO. Fool,—

CLOWN. 'Alas, why is she so?'

MALVOLIO. Fool, I say;—

CLOWN. 'She loves another'—Who calls, ha?

MALVOLIO. 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.

CLOWN. Master Malvolio!

MALVOLIO. Ay, good fool.

CLOWN. Alas, sir, how fell you besides your five wits?

MALVOLIO. Fool, there was never man so notoriously abused; I am as well in my wits, fool, as thou art.

CLOWN. But as well? then you are mad indeed, if you be no better in your wits than a fool.

MALVOLIO. 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.

CLOWN. Advise you what you say: the minister is here.—Malvolio, thy wits the heavens restore! endeavour thyself to sleep, and leave thy vain bibble-babble.

MALVOLIO. Sir Topas,—

CLOWN. 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.

MALVOLIO. Fool, fool, fool, I say,—

CLOWN. Alas, sir, be patient. What say you, sir? I am shent for speaking to you.

MALVOLIO. Good fool, help me to some light and some paper; I tell thee I am as well in my wits as any man in Illyria.

CLOWN. Well-a-day,—that you were, sir!

MALVOLIO. 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.

CLOWN. I will help you to't. But tell me true, are you not mad indeed? or do you but counterfeit?

MALVOLIO. Believe me, I am not; I tell thee true.

CLOWN. Nay, I'll ne'er believe a madman till I see his brains. I will fetch you light, and paper, and ink.

MALVOLIO. Fool, I'll requite it in the highest degree: I pr'ythee be gone.

CLOWN. [Singing.] 'I am gone, sir, And anon, sir, I'll be with you again, In a trice, Like to the old vice, Your need to sustain;

Who with dagger of lath, In his rage and his wrath, Cries ah, ha! to the devil: Like a mad lad, Pare thy nails, dad. Adieu, goodman drivel.

[Exit.]



SCENE III. OLIVIA'S Garden.

[Enter SEBASTIAN.]

SEBASTIAN. This is the air; that is the glorious sun; This pearl she gave me, I do feel't and see't: And though 'tis wonder that enwraps me thus, Yet 'tis not madness. Where's Antonio, then? I could not find him at the Elephant; 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 followers, 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.]

OLIVIA. 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?

SEBASTIAN. I'll follow this good man, and go with you; And, having sworn truth, ever will be true.

OLIVIA. Then lead the way, good father;—And heavens so shine That they may fairly note this act of mine!

[Exeunt.]



ACT V.

SCENE I. The Street before OLIVIA's House.

[Enter CLOWN and FABIAN.]

FABIAN. Now, as thou lovest me, let me see his letter.

CLOWN. Good Master Fabian, grant me another request.

FABIAN. Anything.

CLOWN. Do not desire to see this letter.

FABIAN. This 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?

CLOWN. Ay, sir; we are some of her trappings.

DUKE. I know thee well. How dost thou, my good fellow?

CLOWN. Truly, sir, the better for my foes and the worse for my friends.

DUKE. Just the contrary; the better for thy friends.

CLOWN. No, sir, the worse.

DUKE. How can that be?

CLOWN. 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.

CLOWN. 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.

CLOWN. But that it would be double-dealing, sir, I would you could make it another.

DUKE. O, you give me ill counsel.

CLOWN. 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.

CLOWN. 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 Saint 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.

CLOWN. 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.]

VIOLA. 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 besmeared 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 make With the most noble bottom of our fleet That very envy and the tongue of los Cried fame and honour on him.—What's the matter?

FIRST OFFICER. 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.

VIOLA. 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?

ANTONIO. Orsino, noble sir, Be pleased 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 enraged 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, his 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.

VIOLA. How can this be?

DUKE. When came he to this town?

ANTONIO. 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 heaven 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.

OLIVIA. What would my lord, but that he may not have, Wherein Olivia may seem serviceable!— Cesario, you do not keep promise with me.

VIOLA. Madam?

DUKE. Gracious Olivia,—

OLIVIA. What do you say, Cesario?—Good my lord,—

VIOLA. My lord would speak, my duty hushes me.

OLIVIA. If it be aught to the old tune, my lord, It is as fat and fulsome to mine ear As howling after music.

DUKE. Still so cruel?

OLIVIA. Still so constant, lord.

DUKE. What! to perverseness? you uncivil lady, To whose ingrate and unauspicious altars My soul the faithfull'st offerings hath breathed out That e'er devotion tender'd! What shall I do?

OLIVIA. 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 sprite.— Come, boy, with me; my thoughts are ripe in mischief: I'll sacrifice the lamb that I do love, To spite a raven's heart within a dove.

[Going.]

VIOLA. And I, most jocund, apt, and willingly, To do you rest, a thousand deaths would die.

OLIVIA. Where goes Cesario?

VIOLA. 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!

OLIVIA. Ah me, detested! how am I beguil'd!

VIOLA. Who does beguile you? who does do you wrong?

OLIVIA. Hast thou forgot thyself? Is it so long?— Call forth the holy father.

[Exit an ATTENDANT.]

DUKE. [To Viola.] Come, away!

OLIVIA. Whither, my lord? Cesario, husband, stay.

DUKE. Husband?

OLIVIA. Ay, husband, can he that deny?

DUKE. Her husband, sirrah?

VIOLA. No, my lord, not I.

OLIVIA. 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—O, welcome, father!

[Re-enter Attendant and Priest.]

Father, I charge thee, by thy reverence, Here to unfold,—though lately we intended To keep in darkness what occasion now Reveals before 'tis ripe,—what thou dost know Hath newly passed between this youth and me.

PRIEST. A contract of eternal bond of love, Confirmed 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 Sealed in my function, by my testimony: Since when, my watch hath told me, toward my grave, I have travelled but two hours.

DUKE. O thou dissembling cub! What wilt thou be, When time hath sowed a grizzle on thy case? Or will not else thy craft so quickly grow That thine own trip shall be thine overthrow? Farewell, and take her; but direct thy feet Where thou and I henceforth may never meet.

VIOLA. My lord, I do protest,—

OLIVIA. O, do not swear; Hold little faith, though thou has too much fear.

[Enter SIR ANDREW AGUE-CHEEK, with his head broke.]

SIR ANDREW. For the love of God, a surgeon; send one presently to Sir Toby.

OLIVIA. What's the matter?

SIR ANDREW. 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.

OLIVIA. Who has done this, Sir Andrew?

SIR ANDREW. The Count's gentleman, one Cesario: we took him for a coward, but he's the very devil incardinate.

DUKE. My gentleman, Cesario?

SIR ANDREW. 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.

VIOLA. 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 ANDREW. 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 TOBY. That's all one; he has hurt me, and there's the end on't.— Sot, didst see Dick Surgeon, sot?

CLOWN. O, he's drunk, Sir Toby, an hour agone; his eyes were set at eight i' the morning.

SIR TOBY. Then he's a rogue. After a passy-measure, or a pavin, I hate a drunken rogue.

OLIVIA. Away with him. Who hath made this havoc with them?

SIR ANDREW. I'll help you, Sir Toby, because we'll be dressed together.

SIR TOBY. Will you help an ass-head, and a coxcomb, and a knave? a thin-faced knave, a gull?

OLIVIA. Get him to bed, and let his hurt be looked to.

[Exeunt CLOWN, SIR TOBY, and SIR ANDREW.]

[Enter SEBASTIAN.]

SEBASTIAN. I am sorry, madam, I have hurt your kinsman; 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 habit, and two persons; A natural perspective, that is, and is not.

SEBASTIAN. Antonio, O my dear Antonio! How have the hours rack'd and tortur'd me Since I have lost thee.

ANTONIO. Sebastian are you?

SEBASTIAN. Fear'st thou that, Antonio?

ANTONIO. How have you made division of yourself?— An apple, cleft in two, is not more twin Than these two creatures. Which is Sebastian?

OLIVIA. Most wonderful!

SEBASTIAN. Do I stand there? I never had a brother: Nor can there be that deity in my nature Of here and everywhere. I had a sister Whom the blind waves and surges have devoured:— [To Viola.] Of charity, what kin are you to me? What countryman, what name, what parentage?

VIOLA. Of Messaline: Sebastian was my father; Such a Sebastian was my brother too: So went he suited to his watery tomb: If spirits can assume both form and suit, You come to fright us.

SEBASTIAN. A spirit I am indeed: But am in that dimension grossly clad, Which from the womb I did participate. Were you a woman, as the rest goes even, I should my tears let fall upon your cheek, And say—Thrice welcome, drowned Viola!

VIOLA. My father had a mole upon his brow.

SEBASTIAN. And so had mine.

VIOLA. And died that day when Viola from her birth Had numbered thirteen years.

SEBASTIAN. O, that record is lively in my soul! He finished, indeed, his mortal act That day that made my sister thirteen years.

VIOLA. If nothing lets to make us happy both But this my masculine usurp'd attire, Do not embrace me till each circumstance Of place, time, fortune, do cohere, and jump That I am Viola: which to confirm, I'll bring you to a captain in this town, Where lie my maiden weeds; by whose gentle help I was preserv'd to serve this noble count; All the occurrence of my fortune since Hath been between this lady and this lord.

SEBASTIAN. [To OLIVIA] So comes it, lady, you have been mistook: But nature to her bias drew in that. You would have been contracted to a maid; Nor are you therein, by my life, deceived; You are betroth'd both to a maid and man.

DUKE. Be not amazed; right noble is his blood.— If this be so, as yet the glass seems true, I shall have share in this most happy wreck: [To VIOLA] Boy, thou hast said to me a thousand times, Thou never shouldst love woman like to me.

VIOLA. And all those sayings will I over-swear; And all those swearings keep as true in soul As doth that orbed continent the fire That severs day from night.

DUKE. Give me thy hand; And let me see thee in thy woman's weeds.

VIOLA. The captain that did bring me first on shore Hath my maid's garments: he, upon some action, Is now in durance, at Malvolio's suit; A gentleman and follower of my lady's.

OLIVIA. He shall enlarge him:—Fetch Malvolio hither:— And yet, alas, now I remember me, They say, poor gentleman, he's much distract.

[Re-enter CLOWN, with a letter.]

A most extracting frenzy of mine own From my remembrance clearly banished his.— How does he, sirrah?

CLOWN. Truly, madam, he holds Belzebub at the stave's end as well as a man in his case may do: he has here writ a letter to you; I should have given it you to-day morning, but as a madman's epistles are no gospels, so it skills not much when they are delivered.

OLIVIA. Open it, and read it.

CLOWN. Look then to be well edified when the fool delivers the madman:—'By the Lord, madam,—'

OLIVIA. How now! art thou mad?

CLOWN. No, madam, I do but read madness: an your ladyship will have it as it ought to be, you must allow vox.

OLIVIA. Pr'ythee, read i' thy right wits.

CLOWN. So I do, madonna; but to read his right wits is to read thus; therefore perpend, my princess, and give ear.

OLIVIA. [To FABIAN] Read it you, sirrah.

FABIAN. [Reads] 'By the Lord, madam, you wrong me, and the world shall know it: though you have put me into darkness and given your drunken cousin rule over me, yet have I the benefit of my senses as well as your ladyship. I have your own letter that induced me to the semblance I put on; with the which I doubt not but to do myself much right or you much shame. Think of me as you please. I leave my duty a little unthought of, and speak out of my injury. The madly-used Malvolio'

OLIVIA. Did he write this?

CLOWN. Ay, madam.

DUKE. This savours not much of distraction.

OLIVIA. See him delivered, Fabian: bring him hither.

[Exit FABIAN.]

My lord, so please you, these things further thought on, To think me as well a sister as a wife, One day shall crown the alliance on't, so please you, Here at my house, and at my proper cost.

DUKE. Madam, I am most apt to embrace your offer.— [To VIOLA] Your master quits you; and, for your service done him, So much against the mettle of your sex, So far beneath your soft and tender breeding, And since you called me master for so long, Here is my hand; you shall from this time be You master's mistress.

OLIVIA. A sister?—you are she.

[Re-enter FABIAN with MALVOLIO.]

DUKE. Is this the madman?

OLIVIA. Ay, my lord, this same; How now, Malvolio?

MALVOLIO. Madam, you have done me wrong, Notorious wrong.

OLIVIA. Have I, Malvolio? no.

MALVOLIO. Lady, you have. Pray you peruse that letter: You must not now deny it is your hand, Write from it, if you can, in hand or phrase; Or say 'tis not your seal, not your invention: You can say none of this. Well, grant it then, And tell me, in the modesty of honour, Why you have given me such clear lights of favour; Bade me come smiling and cross-garter'd to you; To put on yellow stockings, and to frown Upon Sir Toby and the lighter people: And, acting this in an obedient hope, Why have you suffer'd me to be imprison'd, Kept in a dark house, visited by the priest, And made the most notorious geck and gull That e'er invention played on? tell me why.

OLIVIA. Alas, Malvolio, this is not my writing, Though, I confess, much like the character: But out of question, 'tis Maria's hand. And now I do bethink me, it was she First told me thou wast mad; then cam'st in smiling, And in such forms which here were presuppos'd Upon thee in the letter. Pr'ythee, be content: This practice hath most shrewdly pass'd upon thee: But, when we know the grounds and authors of it, Thou shalt be both the plaintiff and the judge Of thine own cause.

FABIAN. Good madam, hear me speak; And let no quarrel, nor no brawl to come, Taint the condition of this present hour, Which I have wonder'd at. In hope it shall not, Most freely I confess, myself and Toby Set this device against Malvolio here, Upon some stubborn and uncourteous parts We had conceiv'd against him. Maria writ The letter, at Sir Toby's great importance; In recompense whereof he hath married her. How with a sportful malice it was follow'd May rather pluck on laughter than revenge, If that the injuries be justly weigh'd That have on both sides past.

OLIVIA. Alas, poor fool! how have they baffled thee!

CLOWN. Why, 'some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrown upon them.' I was one, sir, in this interlude;:—one Sir Topas, sir; but that's all one:—'By the Lord, fool, I am not mad;'—But do you remember? 'Madam, why laugh you at such a barren rascal? An you smile not, he's gagged'? And thus the whirligig of time brings in his revenges.

MALVOLIO. I'll be revenged on the whole pack of you.

[Exit.]

OLIVIA. He hath been most notoriously abus'd.

DUKE. Pursue him, and entreat him to a peace:— He hath not told us of the captain yet; When that is known, and golden time convents, A solemn combination shall be made Of our dear souls.—Meantime, sweet sister, We will not part from hence.—Cesario, come: For so you shall be while you are a man; But, when in other habits you are seen, Orsino's mistress, and his fancy's queen.

[Exeunt.]

CLOWN. Song. When that I was and a little tiny boy, With hey, ho, the wind and the rain, A foolish thing was but a toy, For the rain it raineth every day.

But when I came to man's estate, With hey, ho, the wind and the rain, 'Gainst knave and thief men shut their gate, For the rain it raineth every day.

But when I came, alas! to wive, With hey, ho, the wind and the rain, By swaggering could I never thrive, For the rain it raineth every day.

But when I came unto my bed, With hey, ho, the wind and the rain, With toss-pots still had drunken head, For the rain it raineth every day.

A great while ago the world begun, With hey, ho, the wind and the rain, But that's all one, our play is done, And we'll strive to please you every day.

[Exit.]

THE END