Sir And. Marry, will I, Sir; and for that I promis'd you, I'll be as good as my word. He will bear you eafily, and reins well.

1 Off. This is the man; do thy office.

2 Off. Anthonio, I arreft thee at the fuit of Duke Orfino.

Ant. You do mistake me, Sir.

1 Of. No, Sir, no jot: I know your favour well;
Tho' now you have no fea-cap on your head.
Take him away; he knows, I know him well.
Ant. I must obey. This comes with feeking you;
But there's no remedy. I fhall answer it.
What will you do? now my neceffity

Makes me to ask you for my purse. It grieves me
Much more, for what I cannot do for you,
Than what befals myfelf: you stand amaz'd,
But be of comfort.

2 Off. Come, Sir, away.
Ant. I muft intreat of you
Vio. What mony, Sir?

fome of that mony.

For the fair kindness you have fhew'd me here,
And part being prompted by your present trouble,
Out of my lean and low ability

I'll lend you fomething; my Having is not much;
I'll make divifion of my present with you:
Hold, there's half my coffer.

Ant. Will you deny me now?

Is't poffible, that my deferts to you

Can lack perfuafion? do not tempt my mifery,

Left that it make me fo unfound a man,

As to upbraid you with those kindneffes
That I have done for you.

Vio. I know of none,

Nor know I you by voice, or any feature:
I hate ingratitude more in a man,

Than lying, vainnefs, babling drunkenness,
Or any taint of vice, whofe ftrong corruption
Inhabits our frail blood.

Ant. Oh, heav'ns themselves!

2 Off. Come, Sir, I pray you, go.

Ant. Let me speak 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 thame.
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. [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 moft fage faws. Vio. He nam'd Sebaftian; I my brother know Yet living in my glafs; even fuch, and fo 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 difhoneft 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. I dare lay any mony, 'twill be nothing yet.

[Exeunt.

ACT

29

W

ACT IV.

SCENE, The Street.

Enter Sebaftian, and Clown.

CLOWN.

ILL 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 fent to you by my Lady, to bid you come fpeak with her; nor your name is not mafter Cefario, nor this is not my nose 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, foolith Greek, depart from me; there's mony 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 mony, 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 Sebaftian.

Seb.

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 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 wouldft thou now? If thou dar'it 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.

Enter Olivia.

[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 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 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
May'ft fmile at this: thou fhalt not chufe but go:
Do not deny; befhrew his foul for me,

He started one poor heart of mine in thee.

Seb. What relifh is in this? how runs the ftream? Or I am mad, or elfe this is a dream.

Let

Let fancy ftill my fense 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 so be!

[Exeunt.

SCENE, an Apartment in Olivia's Houfe.

Mar.

Enter Maria, and Clown.

YAY, 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 myself in't; and I would, I were the first that ever diffembled in fuch a gown. I am not tall enough to become the functi on 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 blefs 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. Parson; 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, Sir Topas, good Sir Topas, go to my lady.

Clas