Scene
SCENE, Olivia's garden.
Enter Viola and Clown.
Viola.
Save thee, friend, and thy musick: dost thou
live by the tabor?
Clo.
No, Sir, I live by the church.
Vio.
Art thou a churchman?
Clo.
No such matter, Sir, I do live by the church:
for I do live at my house, and my house doth stand
by the church.
Vio.
Art not thou the lady Olivia's fool?
Clo.
No indeed, Sir, the lady Olivia has no folly,
she will keep no fool, Sir, 'till she be married; and
fools are as like husbands, as pilchers are to herrings,
the husband's the bigger: I am indeed not her fool,
but her corrupter of words.
Vio.
I saw thee late at the duke Orsino's.
Clo.
Foolery, Sir, does walk about the orb, like the
sun; it shines every where.* note I would be sorry, Sir,
but the fool should be as oft with your master, as
with my mistress: I think I saw your wisdom there.
Vio.
Nay, an thou pass upon me, I'll no more
with thee. Hold, there's expences for thee.
[Gives him a piece of money.
Clo.
Now Jove, in his next commodity of hair,
send thee a beard!
Vio.
By my troth, I'll tell thee, I am almost sick
for one. Is thy lady within?
Clo.
Would not a pair of these have bred, Sir?
Vio.
Yes, being kept together, and put to use.
-- 350 --
Clo.
I would play lord Pandarus of Phrygia, Sir,
to bring a Cressida to this Troylus.
Vio.
I understand you, Sir, 'tis well begg'd.
Clo.
The matter I hope is not great, Sir; begging
but a beggar: Cressida was a beggar. My lady is
within, Sir. I will construe to her whence you come;
who you are, and what you would, is out of my
welkin; I might say element, but the word is overworn.
[Exit.
Vio.
This fellow is wise enough to play the fool,
And to do that well, craves a kind of wit.
Scene
SCENE. Enter Sir Toby and Sir Anderw.
Sir And.
Save you, gentlemen.
Vio.
And you, Sir.
Sir To.
Dieu vous garde, Monsieur.† note
Vio.
Et vous aussi; vostre serviteur.
Sir To.
I hope, Sir, you are, and I am yours.
Will you encounter the house? my niece is desirous
you should enter, if your trade be to her.
Vio.
I am bound to your niece, Sir: I mean she
is the list of my voyage.
Sir To.
Taste your legs, Sir, put them to motion.
Vio.
My legs do better understand me, Sir, than
I understand what you mean by bidding me taste
my legs.
Sir To.
I mean, to go, Sir, to enter.
Vio.
I will answer you with gait and entrance,
but we are prevented.
Enter Olivia and Maria.
Most excellent accomplish'd lady, the heav'ns rain
odours on you!
Sir And.
That youth's a rare courtier! rain odours!
well.
-- 351 --
Vio.
Most matter hath no voice, lady, but to your
own most pregnant and vouchsafed ear.‡ note
Sir And.
Odours, pregnant and vouchsafed: I'll
get them all three ready.
Oli.
Let the garden door be shut, and leave me
to my hearing.
[Exeunt Sir Toby, Sir Andrew, and Maria.
Scene
SCENE.
Give me your hand, Sir.
Vio.
My duty, madam, and most humble service.
Oli.
What is your name?
Vio.
Cesario is your servant's name, fair princess.
Oli.
My servant, Sir? 'Twas never merry world,
Since lowly feigning was call'd compliment:
Y'are servant to the duke Orsino, youth.
Vio.
And he is yours, and his must needs be yours:
Your servant's servant is your servant, madam.
Oli.
For him, I think not on him: for his thoughts,
Would they were blanks, rather than fill'd with me.
Vio.
Madam, I come to whet your gentle thoughts,
On his behalf.
Oli.
O, by your leave, I pray you;
I bade you never speak again of him.
But would you undertake another suit,
I'd rather hear you to solicit that,
Than musick from the spheres.
Vio.
O dearest lady,—
Oli.
Give me leave, I beseech you: I did send,
After the last enchantment (you did hear)
A ring in chase of you. So did I abuse
Myself, my servant, and, I fear me, you;
Under your hard construction must I sit,
To force that on you in a shameful cunning,
Which you knew none of yours. What might you think?
Have you not set mine honour at the stake,
-- 352 --
And baited it with all th' unmuzzled* note thoughts
That tyrannous heart can think? to your receiving
Enough is shewn; a cypress,† note not a bosom,
Hides my poor heart. So let us hear you speak.
Vio.
I pity you.
Oli.
That's a degree of love.
Vio.
No not a grice:‡ note for 'tis a vulgar proof,
That very oft we pity enemies.
Oli.
Why then methinks 'tis time to smile again;
O world, how apt the poor are to be proud!
If one should be a prey, how much the better,
To fall before the lion, than the wolf!
[Clock strikes.
The clock upbraids me with the waste of time.
Be not afraid, good youth, I will not have you;
And yet when wit and youth are come to harvest,
Your wife is like to reap a proper man:
There lies your way, due west.
Vio.
Then westward, hoa!
Grace and good disposition attend your ladyship,
You'll nothing, madam, to my lord, by me?
Oli.
Stay; pr'ythee tell me what thou think'st of me?
Vio.
That you do think, you are not what you are.
Oli.
If I think so, I think the same of you.
Vio.
Then think you right: I am not what I am.
Oli.
I would you were as I would have you be!
Vio.
Would it were better, madam, than I am.§ note
Oli.
Cesario, by the roses of the spring,
By maid-hood, honour, truth, and ev'ry thing,
-- 353 --
I love thee so, that maugre* note all thy pride,
Nor wit nor reason can my passion hide.
Do not extort thy reasons from this clause,
For that I woo; thou therefore hast no cause:
But rather reason thus with reason fetter:
Love sought is good; but given unsought, is better.
Vio.
By innocence I swear, and by my youth,
I have one heart, one bosom, and one truth;
And that no woman has, nor never none
Shall mistress be of it.
Oli.
Save I alone!
Vio.
And so adieu, good madam; never more
Will I my master's tears to you deplore.
Oli.
Yet come again; for thou perhaps may'st move
That heart, which now abhors to like his love.
[Exeunt.
(Olivia introduces a song.)
Scene
SCENE, Olivia's house.
Enter Sir Toby, Sir Andrew, and Fabian.
Sir And.
No, 'faith, I'll not stay a jot longer.
Sir To.
Thy reason, dear venom, give thy reason.
Fab.
You must needs yield your reason, Sir Andrew.
Sir And.
Marry, I saw your niece do more favours
to the duke's serving-man, than ever she bestow'd on
me. I saw't, i'th' orchard.
Sir To.
Did she see thee the while, old boy, tell
me that?
Sir And.
As plain as I see you now.
Fab.
This was a great argument of love in her,
toward you.
Sir And.
'Slight! will you make an ass o' me?
Fab.
I prove it legitimate, Sir, upon the oaths of
judgment and reason.
Sir To.
And they have been grand jurymen, since
before Noah was a sailor.
-- 354 --
Fab.
She did shew favour to the youth in your
sight, only to exasperate you, to awake your dormouse
valour, to put fire in your heart, and brimstone
in your liver. You should then have accosted
her, and with some excellent jests, fire-new from the
mint, you should have bang'd the youth into dumbness.
This was look'd for, at your hand, and this
was baulkt. The double gilt of this opportunity,
you let time wash off, and you are now sail'd into
the north of my lady's opinion, where you will hang,
like an icicle on a Dutchman's beard, unless you do
redeem it by some attempt, either of valour or
policy.
Sir And.
An't be any way, it must be with valour,
for policy I hate: I had as lief be a Brownist,
as a politician.
Sir To.
Why then build me thy fortunes upon the
basis of valour; challenge me the duke's youth to
fight with him; hurt him in eleven places; my niece
shall take note of it; and assure thyself, there is no
love-broker in the world, can more prevail in man's
commendation with women, than report of valour.
Fab.
There is no way but this, Sir Andrew.
Sir And.
Will either of you bear me a challenge
to him?
Sir To.
Go, write it in a martial hand; be curst
and brief: it is no matter how witty, so it be eloquent,
and full of invention; taunt him with the
licence of ink; if thou thou'st him some thrice, it
shall not be amiss; and as many lies as will lie in
thy sheet of paper, although the sheet were big
enough for the bed of Ware in England, set 'em
down, and go about it. Let there be gall enough
in thy ink, though thou write it with a goose pen,
no matter: about it.
Sir And.
Where shall I find you?
Sir To.
We'll call thee at thy Cubiculo: go.
[Exit Sir Andrew.
-- 355 --
Scene
SCENE.
Fab.
This is a dear manikin to you, Sir Toby.
Sir To.
I have been dear to him, lad, some two
thousand strong, or so.
Fab.
We shall have a rare letter from him; but
you'll not deliver't.
Sir To.
Never trust me then; and by all means
stir on the youth to an answer. I think oxen and
wain-ropes cannot hale them together. For Andrew,
if he were open'd, and you find so much blood in
his liver, as will clog the foot of a flea, I'll eat the
rest of the anatomy.
Fab.
And his opposite, the youth, bears in his visage
no great presage of cruelty.
Enter Maria.
Sir To.
Look where the youngest wren* note of nine,
comes.
Mar.
If you desire the spleen, and will laugh yourselves
into stitches, follow me; yon gull, Malvolio,
is turned heathen, a very renegado; for there is no
christian, that means to be sav'd by believing rightly,
can ever believe such impossible passages of grossness.
He's in yellow stockings.
Sir To.
And cross-garter'd?
Mar.
Most villainously; like a pedant that keeps
a school i'th' church: I have dogg'd him like his
murtherer. He does obey every point of the letter
that I dropt to betray him; he does smile his face
into more lines, than is in the new map, with the
augmentation of the Indies; you have not seen such
a thing as 'tis; I can hardly forbear hurling things
-- 356 --
at him. I know my lady will strike him; if she
do, he'll smile, and take't for a great favour.
Sir To.
Come, bring us, bring us where he is.
[Ex.
Scene
SCENE, the street.
Enter Sebastian and Antonio.
Seb.
I would not by my will have troubled you.
But since you make your pleasure of your pains,
I will no further chide you.
Ant.
I could not stay behind you; my desire,
More sharp than filed steel, did spur me forth,
And not all love to see you, tho' so much,
As might have drawn one to a longer voyage;
But jealousie what might befal your travel,
Being skilless in these parts, (which to a stranger,
Unguided and unfriended, often prove
Rough and unhospitable) my willing love,
The rather by these arguments of fear,
Set forth in your pursuit.
Seb.
My kind Antonio,
I can no other answer make, but thanks;
But were my worth as is my conscience firm,
You should find better dealing: what's to do?
Shall we go see the relicks of this town?
Ant.
To-morrow, Sir; best first, go see your lodging.
Seb.
I am not weary, and 'tis long to-night;
I pray you let us satisfy our eyes
With the memorials, and the things of fame,
That do renown this city.
Ant.
Would you'd pardon me:
I do not without danger walk these streets.
Once in a sea-fight 'gainst the duke's gallies,
I did some service, of such note indeed,
That were I ta'en here, it would scarce be answer'd.
Seb.
Belike you slew great number of his people.
Ant.
Th' offence is not of such a bloody nature,
Albeit the quality of the time and quarrel,
Might well have given us bloody argument:
-- 357 --
It might have since been answered in repaying
What we took from them, which for traffick's sake
Most of our city did. Only myself stood out,
For which if I be lapsed in this place,
I shall pay dear.
Seb.
Do not then walk too open.
Ant.
It doth not fit me: hold, Sir, here's my purse.
In the south suburbs, at the Elephant,
Is best to lodge: I will bespeak our diet,
Whiles you beguile the time, and feed your knowledge,
With viewing of the town; there shall you have me.
Seb.
Why I your purse?
Ant.
Haply your eye shall light upon some toy,
You have desire to purchase; and your store,
I think is not for idle markets, Sir.
Seb.
I'll be your purse-bearer, and leave you for
An hour.
Ant.
To th' Elephant.
Seb.
I do remember.
[Exeunt.
Scene
SCENE, Olivia's house.
* noteEnter Olivia and Maria.
Oli.
I have sent after him; say he will come,
How shall I feast him? what bestow on him?
For youth is bought, more oft, than begg'd or borrow'd.
I speak too loud;
Where is Malvolio? he is sad and civil,
And suits well for a servant with my fortunes.
Where is Malvolio?
Mar.
He is coming, madam:
But in very strange manner. He is sure possest,
Madam.
Oli.
Why, what's the matter, does he rave?
Mar.
No, madam, he does nothing else but smile;
Your ladyship were best to have some guard
About you, if he come, for sure the man
Is tainted in his wits.
Oli.
Go call him hither.
-- 358 --
Enter Malvolio.
I'm as mad as he,
If sad and merry madness equal be.
How now, Malvolio?
Mal.
Sweet lady, ha, ha.
[Smiles fantastically.
Oli.
Smil'st thou? I sent for thee upon a sad occasion.
Mal.
Sad, lady? I could be sad; this does make
some obstruction in the blood, this cross-gartering;
but what of that? if it please the eye of one, it is
with me as the very true sonnet is: Please one, and
please all.
Oli.
Why? how dost thou, man? what is the
matter with thee?
Mal.
Not black in my mind, tho' yellow in my
legs; it did come to his hands, and commands shall
be executed. I think we do know that sweet Roman
hand.
Oli.
Wilt thou go to bed, Malvolio?
Mal.
To bed? ay, sweet heart; and I'll come to
thee.
Oli.
Heav'n comfort thee! why dost thou smile
so, and kiss thy hand so oft?
Mar.
How do you, Malvolio?
Mal.
At your request?
Yes, nightingales answer daws!
Mar.
Why appear you with this ridiculous boldness,
before my lady?
Mal.
Be not afraid of greatness; 'twas well writ.
Oli.
What meanest thou by that, Malvolio?
Mal.
Some are born great—
Oli.
Ha?
Mal.
Some atchieve greatness—
Oli.
What say'st thou?
Mal.
And some have greatness thrust upon them—
Oli.
Heav'n restore thee!
Mal.
Remember who commended thy yellow stockings—
Oli.
Thy yellow stockings?
Mal.
And wish'd to see thee cross-garter'd—
Oli.
Cross-garter'd?
-- 359 --
Mal.
Go to, thou art made, if thou desir'st to be so—
Oli.
Am I made?
Mal.
If not, let me see thee a servant still.* note
Oli.
Why, this is very midsummer madness.
Enter servant.
Ser.
Madam, the young gentleman of the duke
Orsino is return'd; I could hardly intreat him back;
he attends your ladyship's pleasure.
Oli.
I'll come to him. Good Maria, let this
fellow be look'd to. Where's my uncle Toby? let
some of my people have a special care of him; I
would not have him miscarry, for the half of my
dowry.
[Exeunt.
Scene
SCENE.
Mal.
Oh, ho, do you come near me, now? no
worse man than Sir Toby to look to me! this concurs
directly with the letter. Cast thy humble slough,
says she; be opposite with a kinsman, surly with servants,
let thy tongue tang with arguments of state, put
thyself into the trick of singularity; and consequently,
sets down the manner how; as a sad face, a reverend
carriage, a slow tongue, in the habit of some
Sir of note, and so forth. I have† note lim'd her, but it
is Jove's doing, and Jove make me thankful! and
when she went away, now, let this fellow be look'd to:
fellow!‡ note not Malvolio, nor after my degree, but fellow.
Why, every thing adheres together. Well!
Jove, not I, is the doer of this, and he is to be
thanked.
Scene
SCENE. Enter Sir Toby, Fabian, and Maria.
Sir To.
Which way is he, in the name of sanctity?
if all the devils in hell be drawn in little, and
legion himself possest him, yet I'll speak to him.
-- 360 --
Fab.
Here he is, here he is; how is't with you,
Sir? how is't with you, man?
Mal.
Go off, I discard you; let me enjoy my privacy:
go off.
Mar.
Lo, how hollow the fiend speaks within
him; did not I tell you? Sir Toby, my lady prays
you to have a care of him.
Mal.
Ah, ha, does she so?
Sir To.
Go to, go to; peace, peace; we must deal
gently with him; let him alone. How do you, Malvolio?
how is't with you? what, man, defy the
devil; consider he's an enemy to mankind.
Mal.
Do you know what you say?
Mar.
La, you! if you speak ill of the devil, how
he takes it at heart. Pray heav'n, he be not bewitch'd.
Fab.
Carry his water to th' wise woman.§ note
Mar.
Marry, and it shall be done, to-morrow
morning, if I live. My lady would not lose him, for
more than I'll say.
Mal.
How now, mistress?
Mar.
O lord!
Sir To.
Pr'ythee hold thy peace, that is not the
way; do you not see you move him? let me alone
with him.
Fab.
No way but gentleness, gently, gently; the
fiend is rough, and will not be roughly us'd.
Sir To.
Why, how now, my bawcock? how dost
thou, chuck?
Mal.
Sir?
Sir To.
Ay, biddy, come with me. What, man!
'tis not for gravity to play at cherry-pit with satan.
Hang him, foul collier.
Mar.
Get him to say his prayers, good Sir Toby;
get him to pray.
Mal.
My prayers, minx!
Mar.
No, I warrant you, he will not hear of
godliness.
-- 361 --
Mal.
Go hang yourselves all: you are idle shallow
things, I am not of your element; you shall know
more, hereafter.
[Exit.
Sir To.
Is't possible?
Fab.
If this were play'd upon a stage now, I should
condemn it as an improbable fiction.
Sir To.
His very genius hath taken the infection
of the device, man.
Mar.
Nay, pursue him now, lest the device take
air, and taint.
Fab.
Why, we shall make him mad, indeed.
Mar.
The house will be the quieter.
Sir To.
Come, we'll have him in a dark room,
and bound. My niece is already in the belief that
he's mad; but see, see.
Scene
SCENE. Enter Sir Andrew.
Fab.
More matter for a May morning.
Sir And.
Here's the challenge, read it; I warrant
there's vinegar and pepper in't.
Fab.
Is't so sawcy?
Sir And.
Ay, is't? I warrant him: do but read.
Sir To.
Give me.
[Sir Toby reads.
Youth, whatsoever thou art, thou art but a scurvy fellow.
Fab.
Good and valiant.
Sir To.
Wonder not, nor admire not in thy mind why
I do call thee so, for I will shew thee no reason for't.
Fab.
A good note; that keeps you from the blow
of the law.
Sir To.
Thou com'st to the lady Olivia, and in my
sight she uses thee kindly; but thou liest in thy throat,
that is not the matter I challenge thee for.
Fab.
Very brief, and exceeding good sense-less.
Sir To.
I will way-lay thee going home, where if
it be thy chance to kill me—
Fab.
Good.
Sir To.
Thou kill'st me like a rogue and a villain.
Fab.
Still you keep o'th' windy side of the law:
good.
-- 362 --
Sir To.
Fare thee well, and* note heav'n have mercy upon
one of our souls: he may have mercy upon mine, but my
hope is better, and so look to thyself. Thy friend as
thou usest him, and thy sworn enemy, Andrew Aguecheek.
If this letter move him not, his legs cannot:
I'll give't him.
Mar.
You may have very fit occasion for't: he is
now in some commerce with my lady, and will by
and by depart.
Sir To.
Go, Sir Andrew, scout me for him, at the
corner of the orchard, like a bum-baily; so soon as
ever thou seest him, draw; and as thou draw'st,
swear horribly; for it comes to pass oft, that a terrible
oath, with a swaggering accent sharply twang'd
off, gives manhood more approbation, than ever proof
itself would have earn'd him. Away.
Sir And.
Nay, let me alone for swearing.
[Exit.
Sir To.
Now will not I deliver his letter; for the
behaviour of the young gentleman gives him out to
be of good capacity and breeding; therefore this
letter, being so excellently ignorant, will breed no
terror in the youth; he will find that it comes
from a clod-pole. But, Sir, I will deliver his challenge
by word of mouth, set upon Ague-cheek a notable
report of valour, and drive the gentleman into
a most hideous opinion of his rage, skill, fury, and
impetuosity. This will so fright them both, that
they will kill one another by the look, like cockatrices.† note
Scene
SCENE. Enter Olivia and Viola.
Fab.
Here he comes, with your niece; give them
way, 'till he take leave, and presently after him.
Sir To.
I will meditate the while upon some horrid
message, for a challenge.
[Exeunt.
-- 363 --
Oli.
I've said too much unto a heart of stone,
And laid my honour too unchary out.
There's something in me that reproves my fault;
But such a head-strong potent fault it is,
That it but mocks reproof.
Vio.
With the same 'haviour that your passion bears,
Goes on your master's grief.
Oli.
Here, wear this jewel for me, 'tis my picture;
Refuse it not; it hath no tongue to vex you:
And I beseech you, come again, to-morrow.
What shall you ask of me that I'll deny,
That honour sav'd may upon asking give?
Vio.
Nothing but this, your true love for my master.
Oli.
How with mine honour may I give him that,
Which I have given to you?
Vio.
I will acquit you.
Oli.
Well, come again, to-morrow; fare thee well.
[Exit.
Scene
SCENE. Enter Sir Toby and Fabian.
Sir To.
Gentleman, heav'n save thee.
Vio.
And you, Sir.
Sir To.
That defence thou hast, betake thee to't;
of what nature the wrongs are thou hast done him, I
know not; but thy intercepter, full of despight,
bloody as the hunter, attends thee at the orchard
end; dismount thy tuck, be yare‡ note in thy preparation,
for thy assailant is quick, skilful, and deadly.
Vio.
You mistake, Sir, I am sure no man hath any
quarrel to me; my remembrance is very free and clear
from any image of offence done to any man.
Sir To.
You'll find it otherwise, I assure you;
therefore, if you hold your life at any price, betake
you to your guard; for your opposite hath in him,
what youth, strength, skill, and wrath can furnish
a man withal.
-- 364 --
Vio.
I pray you, Sir, what is he?
Sir To.
He is knight dubb'd with unhack'd rapier,§ note
and on carpet consideration; but he is a devil in
private brawl; souls and bodies hath he divorc'd
three; and his incensement, at this moment, is so implacable,
that satisfaction can be none but by pangs
of death and sepulchre: hob, nob, is his word;
give't or take't.
Vio.
I will return again into the house, and desire
some conduct of the lady. I am no fighter.
Sir To.
Back you shall not to the house, unless you
undertake that with me, which with as much
safety you might answer to him; therefore on, and
strip your sword stark naked; for meddle you must,
that's certain, or forswear to wear iron about you.
Vio.
This is as uncivil, as strange. I beseech you
do me this courteous office, as to know of the knight
what my offence to him is: it is something of my
negligence, nothing of my purpose.
Sir To.
I will do so. Signior Fabian, stay you
by this gentleman, 'till my return.
[Exit Sir Toby.
Vio.
Pray you, Sir, do you know of this matter?
Fab.
I know the knight is incens'd against you,
even to a mortal arbitrement,* note but nothing of the
circumstance more.
Vio.
I beseech you, what manner of man is he?
Fab.
Nothing of that wonderful promise to read
him by his form, as you are like to find him in the
proof of his valour. He is indeed, Sir, the most
skilful, bloody, and fatal opposite, that you could
possibly have found, in any part of Illyria: will you
walk towards him? I will make your peace with
him, if I can.
Vio.
I shall be much bound to you for't: I am
one that had rather go with Sir Priest, than Sir
Knight: I care not who knows so much of my
mettle.
[Exeunt.
-- 365 --
Scene
SCENE, the orchard.
Enter Sir Toby and Sir Andrew.
Sir To.
Why, man, he's a very devil; I have not
seen such a virago: I had a pass with him, rapier,
scabbard, and all; and he gives me the stuck-in with
such a mortal motion, that it is inevitable; and on
the answer, he pays you as surely as your feet hit
the ground they step on. They say, he has been
fencer to the Sophy.
Sir And.
Pox on't, I'll not meddle with him.
Sir To.
Ay, but he will not now be pacified.
Fabian can scarce hold him, yonder.
Sir And.
Plague on't, if I thought he had been
valiant, and so cunning in fence, I'd have seen him
damn'd, ere I'd have challeng'd him. Let him let
the matter slip, and I'll give him my horse, grey
Capilet.
Sir To.
I'll make the motion; stand here, make a
good shew on't, this shall end, without the perdition
of souls; marry, I'll ride your horse, as well as I
ride you.
[Aside.
Enter Fabian and Viola.
I have his horse to take up the quarrel, I have persuaded
him the youth's a devil.
[To Fabian.
Fab.
He is horribly conceited of him; and pants
and looks pale, as if a bear were at his heels.
Sir To.
There's no remedy, Sir, he will fight with
you, for's oath sake; marry, he hath better bethought
him of his quarrel, and he finds that now
scarce to be worth talking of; therefore draw, for
the supportance of his vow, he protests he will not
hurt you.
Vio.
Pray heav'n defend me! a little thing would
make me tell them how much I lack of a man.
Fab.
Give ground, if you see him furious.
Sir To.
Come, Sir Andrew, there's no remedy, the
gentleman will, for his honour's sake, have one bout
with you; he cannot by the duello avoid it; but he
-- 366 --
has promis'd me, as he is a gentleman and a soldier,
he will not hurt you. Come on, to't.
[They draw.
Sir And.
Pray heav'n he keep his oath!
Scene
SCENE. Enter Antonio.
Vio.
I do assure you 'tis against my will.
Ant.
Put up your sword; if this young gentleman
Have done offence, I take the fault on me;
If you offend him, I for him defie you.
[Drawing.
Sir To.
You, Sir! why, what are you?
Ant.
One, Sir, that for his love dares yet do more,
Than you have heard him brag to you he will.
Sir To.
Nay, if you be an undertaker, I am for
you.
[Draws.
Enter Officers.
Fab.
O good Sir Toby, hold; here come the officers.
Sir To.
I'll be with you, anon.
Vio.
Pray, Sir, put up your sword, if you please.
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 easily, and reins well.
1 Off.
This is the man; do thy office.
2 Off.
Antonio, I arrest thee at the suit of duke Orsino.
Ant.
You do mistake me, Sir.
1 Off.
No, Sir, no jot; I know your favour well;
Tho' now you have no sea-cap on your head.
Take him away, he knows, I know him well.
Ant.
I must obey. This comes with seeking you;
But there's no remedy. I shall answer it.
What will you do? now my necessity
Makes me to ask you for my purse. It grieves me
Much more, for what I cannot do for you,
Than what befalls myself: you stand amaz'd;
But be of comfort.
2 Off.
Come, Sir, come away.
Ant.
I must intreat of you some of that money.
Vio.
What money, Sir?
For the fair kindness you have shew'd me here,
And part being prompted by your present trouble,
-- 367 --
Out of my lean and low ability,
I'll lend you something; my having is not much;
I'll make division of my present with you:
Hold, there's half my coffer.
Ant.
Will you deny me, now?
Is't possible, that my deserts to you
Can lack persuasion? do not tempt my misery,
Lest that it make me so unsound a man,
As to upbraid you with those kindnesses,
That I have done for you.
Vio.
I know of none,
Nor know I you, by voice, or any feature.† note
Ant.
Oh heav'ns!
2 Off.
Come, Sir, I pray you, go.
Ant.
Let me but speak,
A little. Why, this youth that you see here,
I snatcht one half out of the jaws of death,
Reliev'd him with such sanctity of love;
And to his image, which methought did promise
Most 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!
* noteThou hast, 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 Off.
Surely the man grows mad, away with him:
Come, come, Sir.
Ant.
Lead me on.
[Exit with Off.
Sir To.
Come hither, knight, come hither, Fabian.
Vio.
He nam'd Sebastian; I my brother know
Yet living, in my glass; even such and so
-- 368 --
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 salt waves fresh in love.
[Exit.
Sir To.
A very dishonest paltry boy, and more a
coward, than a hare; his dishonesty appears in leaving
his friend here in necessity, and denying him;
and for his cowardship, ask Fabian.
Fab.
A coward, devout coward, religious in it.
Sir And.
Od's lid, I'll after him again, and beat him.
Sir To.
Do, cuff him soundly, but ne'er draw thy
sword.
Sir And.
If I do not—
Fab.
Come, let us see the event.
Sir To.
I dare lay money 'twill be nothing yet.
[Exeunt.‡ note
End of the Third ACT.
John Bell [1774], Bell's Edition of Shakespeare's Plays, As they are now performed at the Theatres Royal in London; Regulated from the Prompt Books of each House By Permission; with Notes Critical and Illustrative; By the Authors of the Dramatic Censor (Printed for John Bell... and C. Etherington [etc.], York) [word count] [S10401].
