Mar.

Nay, I prethee 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 whilst.

Clo.

Well, I'll put it on, and I will dissemble my self in't; and I would I were the first that ever dissembled in such a Gown. I am not tall enough to become the Function well, nor lean enough to be thought a good Student; but to be said an honest Man, and a good Housekeeper, goes as fairly as to say, a careful Man and a great Scholar. The Competitors enter.

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 Neece of King Gorbodack, 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, Mr. 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.

Fie, thou dishonest Sathan; I call thee by the most modest Terms, for I am one of those gentle ones that will use the Devil himself with Curtesie: Say'st thou that House is dark?

Mal.

As Hell, Sir Topas.

Clo.

Why it hath bay Windows transparent as Baricadoes, and the clear Stones towards the South North, are as lustrous as Ebony; and yet complainest thou of Obstruction?

Mal.

I am not mad, Sir Topas, I say to you this House is dark.

Clo.

Mad-man, thou errest; I say there is no Darkness but Ignorance, in which thou art more puzzel'd than the Egyptians in their Fogg.

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.

Clo.

What is the Opinion of Pythagoras, concerning Wild-foul?

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, e'er 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: I would we were all rid of this Knavery. If he may be conveniently deliver'd, I would he were, for I am now so far in offence with my Neice, that I cannot pursue with any Safety this Sport to the upshot. Come by and by to my Chamber.

Clo.

Hey Robin, jolly Robin, tell me how thy Lady does.

Mal.

Fool.

Clo.

My Lady is unkind, perdie.

Mal.

Fool.

Clo.

Alas, why is she so?

Mal.

Fool, I say.

Clo.

She loves another—Who calls, ha?

Mal.

Good Fool, as ever thou wilt deserve well at my hand, help me to a Candle, and Pen, Ink, and Paper; as I am a Gentleman, I will live to be thankful to thee for't.

Clo.

Mr. Malvolio!

Mal.

Ay, good Fool.

Clo.

Alas, Sir, how fell you besides your five Wits?

Mal.

Fool, there was never Man so notoriously abus'd; I am as well in my Wits, Fool, as thou art.

Clo.

But as well! then you are mad indeed, if you be no better in your Wits than a Fool.

Mal.

They have here propertied me; keep me in darkness, send Ministers to me, Asses, and do all they can to face me out of my Wits.

Clo.

Advise you what you say: The Minister is here. Malvolio, Malvolio, thy Wits the Heav'ns restore: Endeavour thy self to sleep, and leave thy vain bibble babble.

Mal.

Sir Topas.

Clo.
Maintain no Words with him, good Fellow.
Who I, Sir, not I, Sir. God buy you, good Sir Topas:
Marry Amen. I will, Sir, I will, Sir.

Mal.
Fool, Fool, Fool, I say.

Clo.

Alas, Sir, be patient. What say you, Sir, I am shent for speaking to you.

Mal.

Good Fool, help me to some Light, and some Paper; I tell thee I am as well in my Wits, as any Man in Illyria.

Clo.

Well-a-day that you were, Sir.

Mal.

By this Hand I am: Good Fool, some Ink, Paper and Light; and convey what I will set down to my Lady: It shall advantage thee more, than ever the bearing 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 see his Brains.
I will fetch you Light, and Paper, and Ink,

Mal.
Fool, I'll requite it in the highest degree;
I prethee 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,
  Your Need to sustain.
Who with Dagger of Lath, in his Rage and his Wrath,
  Cries ah, ah, to the Devil:
Like a mad Lad, pair thy Nails, Dad,
  Adieu, good Man Devil. [Exit.

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