Ant. 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'erflourish'd' by the devil. 1 Of. The man grows mad; away with him. Come, come, sir.

Ant. Lead me on. [Exe. Officers, with Antonio. Vio. 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 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;2 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.

[Exit.

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

yet.

(1) Ornamented.

[Exeunt.

(2) In the reflection of my own figure.

ACT IV.

SCENE 1.—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.

(1) Let out.

Clo. This will I tell my lady straight: I would not be in some of your coats for two-pence.

Exit Clown. [Holding Seb. another way

go

Sir To. Come on, sir; hold. Sir And. Nay, let him alone, I'll 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. Čome, 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. What would'st

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. [Draws.

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 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 extent2

Against thy peace. Go with me to my house;
And hear thou there how many fruitless pranks
This ruffian hath botch'd up,3 that thou thereby
May'st smile at this: thou shalt not choose, but go;
Do not deny beshrew his soul for me,

(1) Rude fellow. (2) Violence. (3) Made up. (4) Ill betide.

VOL. I.

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! [Exe.

SCENE II-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. [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 competitors2 enter.

Enter Sir Toby Belch and Maria.

Sir To. Jove bless thee, master parson.

Clo. Bono's 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? (2) Confederates.

(1) Disguise.

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.

Clo. 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.

Clo. Why, it hath bay-windows,1 transparent as barricadoes, and the clear stones towards the southnorth 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: I am no more mad than you are; make the trial of it in any constant question.2

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,

(1) Bow-windows. (2) Regular conversation.