Duke. How now, gentleman? how is't with you? Sir To. That's all one, he has hurt me, and there's an end on't; fot, didft fee Dick furgeon, fot?

Clo. O he's drunk, Sir Toby, above an hour agone; his eyes were fet at eight i'th' morning. Sir To. Then he's a rogue, and a paft-measure Painim. I hate a drunken rogue.

Oli. Away with him: who hath made this havoc with them?

Sir And. I'll help you, Sir Toby, because we'll be drefs'd together.

Sir To. Will you help an afs-head, and a coxcomb, and a knave, a thin-fac'd knave, a gull?

[Exeunt Clo. Sir Toby, and Sir Andrew. Oli. Get him to bed, and let his hurt be look'd to.

Seb. I am forry, Madam, I have hurt your kinfman: But had it been the brother of my blood,

'I must have done no less with wit and fafety.

[All stand in amaze. You throw a strange regard on me, by which I do perceive it hath offended you;

Pardon me, sweet one, even for the vows
We made each other but fo late ago.

Duke. One face, one voice, one habit, and two perfons;

Anat'ral perfpective, that is, and is not!

Seb. Antonio, O my dear Antonio!

How have the hours rack'd and tortur'd me

Since I have lost thee?

Ant. Sebaftian are you?

Seb. Fear it thou that, Antonio!

Ant. How have you made divifion of yourself?

An apple, cleft in two, is not more twin

Than thefe two creatures.

Oli. Moft wonderful!

Which is Sebastian?

Seb. Do I ftand there? I never had a brother;

Nor can there be that deity in my nature,

Of here and every where. I had a fifter,
Whom the blind waves and furges have devour'd:
Of charity, what kin are you to me? [To Viola.
What countryman? what name? what parentage?
Vio. Of Meffaline; Sebaftian was my father;
Such a Sebaftian was my brother too:
So went he fuited to his wat'ry tomb.
If fpirits can affume both form and fuit,
You come to fright us.

Seb. A fpirit I am, indeed;

But am in that dimenfion grofsly clad,
Which from the womb I did participate.
Were you a woman, as the reft goes even,
I fhould my tears let fall upon your cheek,
And fay, "Thrice welcome, drowned Viola !"
Vio. My father had a mole upon his brow.
Seb. And fo had mine.

Vio. And dy'd that day, when Viola from her birth Had number'd thirteen years.

Seb. O, that record is lively in my foul;
He finished, indeed, his mortal act,
That day that made my fifter thirteen years.
Vio. If nothing letts to make us happy both,
But this my masculine ufurp'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 ly my maids weeds; by whofe gentle help
I was preferv'd + to ferve this noble Duke.
All th' occurrence of my fortune fince
Hath been between this lady and this lord.
Seb. So comes it, lady, you have been mistook;
[To Olivia.

But nature to her bias drew in that.
You would have been contracted to a maid,
Nor are you therein, by my life, deceiv'd;
You are betroth'd both to a maid, and man.
Duke. Be not amaz'd: right noble is his blood.
If this be fo, as yet the glass seems true,

I fhall have fhare in this moft happy wreck.
-Boy, thou haft faid to me a thousand times,
[To Viola.
Thou never should'st love woman like to me.
Vio. And all thofe fayings will I over-fwear;
And all thofe fwearings keep as true in foul,
As doth that orbed continent the fire,
That fevers day from night.

Duke. Give me thy hand,

And let me fee thee in thy woman's weeds.
Vio. The captain that did bring me first on shore
Hath my maids garments: he upon fome action
Is now in durance, at Malvolio's fuit,

A gentleman and follower of my Lady's.

Öli. He fhall enlarge him: fetch Malvolio hither. And yet, alas, now I remember me,

They fay, poor gentleman! he's much distract.

Enter the Clown with a letter, and Fabian.

A most extracting frenzy of mine own,
From my remembrance clearly banish'd his.
How does he, firrah?

Clo. Truly, Madam, he holds Beelzebub at the ftave's end, as well as a man in his cafe may do: h'as here writ a letter to you; I should have given't you to-day morning. But as a madman's epiftles are no gofpels, so it fkills not much when they are deliver❜d.

Oli. Open't, and read it.

Clo. Look then to be well edify'd, when the fool delivers the madman-By the Lord, Madam

Oli. How now, art mad?

[Reads.

Clo. No, Madam, I do but read madness: an your Ladyfhip will have it as it ought to be, you muft allow vox *.

* Perhaps we should read, " you must allow for't," i. e. you must make the proper allowances for the condition he is in. Revifal.

Oli. Pr'ythee read it i' thy right wits.

Clo. So I do, Madona; but to read his right wits, is to read thus: therefore perpend, my Princess, and give ear.

Oli. Read it you, firrah.

[To Fabian. Fab. 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 uncle rule over me, yet have I the benefit of my fenfes as well as your Ladyship. I have your own letter, that induced me to the femblance 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 fpeak out of my injury. The madly us'd Malvolio.

Oli. Did he write this?

Clo. Ay, Madam.

Duke. This favours not much of distraction.

Oli. See him deliver'd, Fabian; bring him hither. My Lord, fo please you, these things further thought on,

To think me as well a fifter as a wife;

One day fhall crown th' alliance on't*, so please Here at my house, and at my proper cost. [you, Duke. Madam, I am most apt t' embrace your

offer.

Your mafter quits you; and for your fervice done him,

So much against the metal of your fex, [To Viola
So far beneath your foft and tender breeding;
And fince you call'd me master for fo long,
Here is my hand you fhall from this time be
Your mafter's mistress.

Oli. A fifter, you are fhe.

SCENE

Enter Malvolio.

Duke. Is this the madman?

VII.

Oli. Ay, my Lord, this fame: how now, Malvolio?

Alliance, an't fo please you. Revifal.

Mal. Madam, you have done me wrong, notorious wrong.

Oli. Have I, Malvolio? no..

Mal. Lady, you have; pray you, perufe that letter. You must not now deny it is your hand.

Write from it if you can, in hand or phrase;
Or fay 'tis not your feal, nor your invention;
You can fay none of this. Well, grant it then,
And tell me in the modefty of honour,

Why you have given me fuch clear lights of favour,
Bade me come fmiling, and cross-garter'd to you,
To put on yellow ftockings, and to frown
Upon Sir Toby, and the lighter people :
And acting thus in an obedient hope,
Why have you fuffer'd me to be imprison'd,
Kept in a dark house, vifited by the priest,
And made the most notorious geck and gull
That e'er invention play'd on? tell me, why?
Oli. Alas, Malvolio, this is not my writing,
Tho', I confefs, much like the character:
But, out of question, 'tis Maria's hand.
And now I do bethink me, it was fhe

First told me thou waft mad; then cam't thou fmiling,

And in fuch forms which here were prefuppos'd +
Upon thee in the letter: pr'ythee, be content;
This practice hath most fhrewdly pafs'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 caufe.

Fab. Good Madam, hear me speak;

And let no quarrel, nor no brawl to come,
Taint the condition of this present hour,

Which I have wond'red at. In hope it shall not,
Moft freely I confefs myself and Sir Toby
Set this device against Malvolio here,
Upon fome ftubborn and uncourteous parts
We had conceiv'd against him. Maria writ
The letter at Sir Toby's great importance;

ti. e. previously pointed out to thee, in fuch a manner as to deceive thee. Revifal.