Sir To.

Jove bless thee, Mr. Parson.

Clo.

Bonos dies, Sir Toby; for as the old hermit of Prague, that never saw pen and ink, very wittily said, to a niece of king Gorboduck, that that is, is: so I being Mr. Parson, am Mr. 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

Who calls there?

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 vexest thou this man? Talkest thou nothing but of ladies?

Sir To.

Well said, master Parson.

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.

Say'st thou that house is dark?

Mal.

As hell, Sir Topas.

Clo.

Madam, 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 abus'd; I am no more mad, than you are; make the trial of it, in any constant question.‡ ^note

Clo.

What is the opinion of Pythagoras, concerning wild fowl?

Mal.

That the soul of our grandam might happily inhabit a bird.

Clo.

What think'st 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 th' opinion of Pythagoras, ere I will allow of thy wits, and fear to kill a woodcock, lest thou dispossess the house of thy grandam. Fare thee well.

Mal.

Sir Topas, Sir Topas!

Sir To.

My most exquisite Sir Topas!

Clo.

Nay, I am for all waters.

Mar.

Thou might'st have done this, without thy beard and gown; he sees thee not.

Sir To.

To him in thine own voice, and bring me word how thou find'st him.