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 :

Rudefby, be gone! I pr'ythee, gentle friend,

[Exeunt Sir Toby, and Sir Andrews Let thy fair wisdom, not thy paffion, fway 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
May'ft fmile at this: thou shalt not chufe 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 ftream> Or I am mad, or else 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'dit berul'd by me.

Seb. Madam, I will.

Oli. O, fay fo, and so be!

[Exeunt.

SCENE, an Apartment in Olivia's Houfe.

Mar.

N

Enter Maria, and Clown.

AY, I pry'thee, 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 be

come

come 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. Parfon.

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 [ 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 say,

peace in this prison!*

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 lunatick.

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 of ladies?

Sir To. Well faid, mafter 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 difhoneft Sathan; I call thee by the moft modest terms; for I am one of thofe gentle ones, that will use the devil himself with curtefy: fay'ft thou,

that house is dark?

Mal. As hell, Sir Topas.

M

Clo. Why, it hath bay-windows tranfparent as baricadoes, and the clear ftones towards the fouth-north, are as luftrous as ebony; and yet complaineft thou of obftruction?

Mal. I am not mad, Sir Topas; I fay to you, this houfe is dark. 1 2 sfied I

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.

Mal. I fay, this houfe is as dark as ignorance, though ignorance were as dark as hell; and Iday, there was never man thus abus'd; I am no more mad than you are, make the trial of it in any conftant queftion.

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

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

Clo. What think'ft thou of his opinion?

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

Clo. Fare thee well: remain thou ftill in darkness thou shalt hold th' opinion of Pythagoras, ere I will allow of thy wits; and fear to kill a woodcock, deft thou difpoffefs the foul of thy grandam. Fare thee well.. Mal. Sir Topas, Sir Topas,

Sir To. My moft exquifite Sir Topas !

Clo. Nay, I am for all waters.

Mar. Thou might'ft have done this without thy beard and gown; he fees thee not.

Sir To. To him in thine own voice, and bring me word how thou find'ft him: I would, we were all rid of this knavery. If he may be conveniently deliver'd, I would, he were; for I am now fo far in offence with my niece, that I cannot purfue with any fafety this fport to the upshot. Come by and by to my chamber, [Exit with Maria.

Clo, Hey, Robin, jolly Robin, tell me how my Lady does.

ic Mal, Fool, I fay;

who calls, ha?

Clo. She loves another Mal, Good fool, as ever thou wilt deferve well at my hand, help me to a candle, and penD pink, and paper, as am a gentleman, I will live to be thankful to thee for't.

Clo.

Clo. Mr. Malvolio!

Mal. Ay, good fool.

Clo. Alas, Sir, how fell you befides your five wits? Mal. Fool, there was never man fo notoriously abus'd; I am as well in my wits, fool, as thou art. Clo. But as well! then thou art mad, indeed, if y you be no better in your wits than a fool.

Mal. They have here propertied me; keep me in darkness, fend minifters to me, affes, and do all they can to face me out of my wits.

Clo. Advife you what you fay: the minifter is here. Malvolio, Malvolio, thy wits the heav'ns reftore: endeavour thyself to fleep, and leave thy vain bibble babble, Mal. Sir Topas,

Clo. Maintain no words with him, good fellow. Who I, Sir not I, Sir. God b'w'you, good Sir Topas.Marry, amen. I will, Sir, I will.

Mal. Fool, fool, fool, I fay.

Clo. Alas, Sir, be patient. What fay you, Sir? I am fhent for speaking to you.

Mal. Good fool, help me to fome light, and fome paper; I tell thee, I am as well in my wits, as any iman in Illyria.

Clo. Well-a-day, that you were, Sir!

Mal. By this hand, I am: good fool, fome ink, paper and light; and convey what I fet down to my Lady: it fhall advantage thee more than ever the bear ing of letter did.

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

Mal. Believe me, I am not: I tell thee true.
Clo. Nay, I'll ne'er believe a mad-man, 'till I fee
his brains. I will fetch you light, and paper, and ink.
Mal. Fool, I'll requite it in the highest degree;
I pr'ythee, be gone.

Clo. I am gone, Sir, and anon, Sir, [Singing
I'll be with you again

In a trice, like to the old vice, (17)

Your need to fuftain:

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, good man drivel.

[Exit.

SCENE changes to another Apartment in OLIVIA'S Houfe.

Enter Sebaftian.

Seb. This is the air, that is the glorious Sun;
This pearl fhe gave me, I do feel't and fee't.
And though 'tis wonder that enwraps me thus,
Yet 'tis not madness. Where's Anthonio then?
I could not find him at the Elephant ;

Yet there he was, and there I found this credit, (18)
That he did range the town to feek me out.

His counfel now might do me golden fervice;
For tho' my foul difputes well with my fense,

(17) In à trice, like to the old Vice.] So in Ben Johnson's The Devil is an Afs.

What is he calls upon me, and would feem to lack a vice?
Ere his words be half spoken, I am with him in a trice.

In both thefe places, by vice, is meant that buffoon, droll character fo general in the old Plays, who was drest up in a long coat, a fool's cap with affes ears, and furnish'd with a wooden fword, with which he was as active and wanton as Arlequin. But I have explain'd the zuord and character more particularly in a note upon this line of King Richard IIId.

Thus, like the formal vice, iniquity, &c.

(18) Yet there be was, and there I found this credit,

That he did range, &c.] i. e. I found it juftified, credibly vouch'd. Whether the word credit will eafily carry this meaning, I am doubtful: the expreffion feems obfcure; and tho' I have not disturb'd the text, I very much fufpect that the Poet wrote; -and there I found this credent. Heufes the fame term again in the very fame fenfe in The Winter's Tale.

Then 'tis very credent,

"Thou may'st co-join with something, and thou doft, &c.

That