Thou haft, 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 Offic. The man grows mad, away with him.
-Come, come, Sir.

Ant. Lead me on.

[Exit Antonio with Officers. Vio. Methinks his words do from fuch pallion fly, That he believes himself-so 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 moft 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 fafhion, colour, ornament;
For him I imitate: oh, if it prove,

Tempefts 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 neelity, and denying
him; and for his cowardlhip, ak 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

Fab. Come, let's see the event.

[Exit Sir Andrew.

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

yet.

[Exeunt.

ACT IV.

SCENE I.

The Street.

Enter Sebaftian and Clown.

WILL you make

for you?

Clown.

me believe that I am not fent

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 fent 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't 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 ftrangenefs, 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 money for thee. If you tarry longer, I shall give worse payment.

Clo. By my troth thou haft an open hand; these wife men that give fools money, 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,

* Greek was as much as to fay, bawd or pander. He understood the Clown to be acting in that office. A bawdyhouse was called Corinth, and the frequenters of it, Corinthians, which words occur frequently in Shakespeare, especially in Timon of Athens, and Henry IVth.

Warburton.

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 strait : I would not be in fome 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; 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 flefh'd come on.

Seb. I will be free from thee. What wouldft thou now? If thou dar'ft tempt me further, draw thy fword.

Sir To. What, what? nay, then, I must have an unce or two of this malapert blood from you.

[They draw and fight.

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 Be not offended, dear Cefario:[fight! Rudefby, be gone! I pr'ythee, gentle friend, [Exeunt Sir Toby and Sir Andrew. Let thy fair wifdom, not thy passion, sway In this uncivil and unjust extent

*

Against thy peace. Go with me to my houfe, And hear thou there, how many fruitless pranks This ruffian hath botch'd up, that thou thereby

* Extent is, in law, a writ of execution, whereby goods are feized for the king. It is therefore taken, here, for violence in general. Johnson.

May'ft fmile at this: thou fhalt not chuse but go; Do not deny; befhrew his foul 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 elfe this is a dream.

Let fancy ftill my fenfe in Lethe steep,

If it be thus to dream, ftill 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 be!

SCENE

An Apartment in Olivia's Houfe.

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 whilft. [Exit Maria.

Clo. Well, I'll put it on, and I will diffemble myfelf in't; and I would I were the firft 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 student; 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 Parson.

Clo. Bonos dies, Sir Toby; for as the old hermit of Prague, that never faw pen and ink, very wittily faid to a niece 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.

Mal. Who calls there?

[Malvolio within.

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 vexeft thou this man? Talkeft thou of nothing but ladies?

Sir To. Well faid, Master Parfon.

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. Fy, thou dishonest Sathan; I call thee by the moft modeft terms; for I am one of those gentle ones that will ufe the devil himself with courtesy: fay't thou that house is dark?

Mal. As hell, Sir Topas.

Clo. Why, it hath bay-windows tranfparent as baricadoes, and the clear stones towards the fouthnorth 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. Madman, thou erreft; I fay, there is no darknefs but ignorance; in which thou art more puzzled than the Egyptians in their fog.

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 trial of it in any conftant question.

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

Mal. That the foul of our grandam might hap pily inhabit a bird.

Clo. What think'ft thou of his opinion?

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

Clo. Fare thee well: remain thou ftill in darknefs; thou fhalt hold the opinion of Pythagoras, ere I will allow of thy wits; and fear to kill a woodVOL. III. F