Clown, meeting14Q0440.
Vio.
Save thee, friend, and thy musick: Dost thou
live by the tabor? note
Clo.
No, sir, I live by the church.
Vio.
Art thou a churchman?
Clo.
No such matter, sir; I do note live by the church:
for I do live at my house, and my house doth stand by
the church.
Vio.
So thou may'st say, the king lies note by a beggar,
if a beggar dwell near him; or, the church stands by thy
tabor, if thy tabor stand by the church.
Clo.
You have said, sir.—To see this age! A sentence
is but a chev'ril glove to a good wit; How quickly
the wrong side may be turn'd outward!
Vio.
Nay, that's certain; they, that dally nicely with
words, may quickly make them wanton.
Clo.
I would therefore, my sister had had no name,
sir.
Vio.
Why, man?
Clo.
Why, sir, her name's a word; and to dally with
that word, might make my sister wanton: But, indeed,
words are very rascals, since bonds disgrac'd them.
Vio.
Thy reason, man?
Clo.
'Troth, sir, I can yield you none without words;
and words are grown so false, I am loth to prove reason
with them.
Vio.
I warrant, thou art a merry fellow, and car'st
-- 44 --
for nothing.
Clo.
Not so, sir, I do care for something: but note in my
conscience, sir, I do not care for you; if that be to care
for nothing, sir, I would it would make you invisible.
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 marry'd; and fools
are as like husbands, as pilchards 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 count Orsino's.
Clo.
Foolery, sir, does walk about the orb, like the
sun; it shines every where. 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 &dagger2; for thee.
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; though I would not have it grow on my chin. Is
thy lady within?
Clo.
Would not a pair of these have bred, sir?
Vio.
Yes, being kept together, and put to use.
Clo.
I would play lord Pandarus of Phrygia, sir, to
bring a Cressida to this Troilus.
Vio.
I understand you, sir 'tis well beg'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 conster to them, whence you come; who you
are, and what you would, are out note of my welkin: I might
say, element; but the word is over-worn.
[Exit Clown.
-- 45 --
Vio.
This fellow is wise enough to play the fool;
And, to do that well, craves a kind of wit:
He must observe their mood on whom he jests,
The quality of persons, and the time;
And, like the haggard, check at every feather
That comes before his eye. This is a practice,
As full of labour as a wise man's art:
For folly, that he wisely shews, is fit;
But wise men, folly-faln, note quite taint their wit.
Enter Sir Toby, and Sir Andrew.
Sir T.
Save you, gentleman14Q0441.
Vio.
And you, sir.
Sir A.
Dieu vous guarde, monsieur.
Vio.
Et vous aussi; votre serviteur.
Sir A.
I hope, sir, you are; and I am yours.
Sir T.
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 T.
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 T.
I mean, to go, sir, to enter.
Vio.
I will answer you with gate note and entrance:
But we are prevented.—
Enter Olivia, and Maria.
Most excellent-accomplish'd lady, the heavens rain
odours on you!
&clquo;Sir A.
&clquo;That youth's a rare courtier. Rain odours!
well.&crquo;
Vio.
My matter hath no voice, lady, but to your
-- 46 --
own most pregnant and vouchsafed ear.
&clquo;Sir A.
&clquo;Odours, pregnant, and vouchsafed:—I'll get
'em all three ready note.&crquo;.
Oli.
Let the garden door be shut, and leave me to
my hearing.
[Exeunt Sir T. Sir A. and Maria.
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:
You're servant to the count 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 bad you never speak again of him:
But, would you undertake another suit,
I had rather hear you to sollicit that,
Than musick from the spheres.
Vio.
Dear lady,—
Oli.
Nay, give me leave, beseech you: I did send,
After the last enchantment you did here, note
A ring in chace 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,
-- 47 --
And baited it with all the unmuzzl'd thoughts
That tyranous note heart can think? To one of your receiving
Enough is shewn; a cyprus note, not a bosom,
Hides my poor note heart: So note let me hear you speak.
Vio.
I pity you.
Oli.
That's a degree to love.
Vio.
No, not a grize; 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 is come to harvest,
Your wife is like to reap a proper man:
There lies your way, due west.
Vio.
Then westward-hoe:
Grace, and good disposition, attend your ladyship!
You'll nothing, madam, to my lord by me?
Oli.
Stay:
I 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 be better, madam, than I am,
I wish it might; for now I am your fool.
Oli.
O, what a deal of scorn looks beautiful
In the contempt, and anger, of his lip!
A murd'rous guilt shews not itself more soon
Than love that would seem hid: love's night is noon.—
-- 48 --
Cesario, by the roses of the spring,
By maidhood, honour, truth, and every thing,
I love thee so, that, maugre 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 ever none
Shall mistress be of it, save I alone.
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.
SCENE II.
A Room in Olivia's House.
Enter Sir Toby, Sir Andrew, and Fabian.
Sir A.
No, 'faith, I'll not stay a jot longer.
Sir T.
Thy reason, dear venom, give thy reason.
Fab.
You must needs yield your reason, sir Andrew.
Sir A.
Marry, I saw your niece do more favours to
the count's servingman, than ever she bestow'd upon
me; I saw't i'the orchard.
Sir T.
Did she see thee the while, old boy; tell me that?
Sir A.
As plain as I see you now.
Fab.
This was a great argument of love in her toward
you.
Sir A.
'Slight, will you make an ass o'me?
Fab.
I will note prove it legitimate, sir, upon the oaths
of judgment and reason.
-- 49 --
Sir T.
And they have been grand-jury-men, since before
Noah was a sailor.
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 baulk'd: 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 isicle on a Dutchman's beard, unless
you do redeem it by some laudable attempt, either
of valour, or policy.
Sir A.
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 T.
Why then, build me thy fortunes upon the
basis of valour. Challenge me the count'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 woman, than report of valour.
Fab.
There is no way but this, sir Andrew.
Sir A.
Will either of you bear me a challenge to him?
Sir T.
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,14Q0442 it shall not be amiss;
and as many lies as will lye in thy sheet of paper, although
the sheet were big enough for the bed of Ware
in England, set 'em down, go, about it. Let there be
-- 50 --
gall enough in thy ink; though thou write with a goose-pen,
no matter: About it.
Sir A.
Where shall I find you?
Sir T.
We'll call thee at the cubiculo: Go.
[Exit Sir Andrew.
Fab.
This is a dear manakin to you, sir Toby.
Sir T.
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 T.
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 o'the
anatomy.
Fab.
And his opposite, the youth, bears in his visage
no great presage of cruelty.
Enter Maria.
Sir T.
Look, where the youngest wren of nine note comes.
Mar.
If you desire the spleen, and will laugh yourselves
into side-stitches, follow me: yon' gull Malvolio
is turn'd heathen, a very renegado; for there is no
christian, that means to be saved by believing rightly,
can ever believe such impossible passages of grossness.
He's in yellow stockings.
Sir T.
And cross-garter'd?
Mar.
Most villanously; like a pedant that keeps a
school i'the church. I have dog'd him like his murtherer:
He does obey every point of the letter that I
drop'd to betray him: he does smile his face into more
lines, than is in the new map, with the augmentation
-- 51 --
of the Indies: you have not seen such a thing as 'tis;
I can hardly forbear hurling things at him. I know,
my lady will strike him; if she do, he'll smile, and take't
for a great favour.
Sir T.
Come, bring us, bring us where he is.
[Exeunt.
SCENE III.
A Street.
Enter Sebastian, and Antonio.
Seb.
I would not, by my will, have troubl'd 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, (though so much,
As might have drawn one to a longer voyage)
But jealousy 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,
And thanks, note and ever thanks; and oft good turns
Are shuffl'd off with such uncurrent pay:
But, were my worth, as is my conscience, firm,
You should find better dealing. What's to do?
Shall we go see the reliques 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,
-- 52 --
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 count his 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.
The offence is not of such a bloody nature;
Albeit the quality of the time, and quarrel,
Might well have given us bloody argument.
It might have since been answer'd, 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 &dagger2; my purse:
In the south suburbs, at the elephant,
Is best to lodge: I will bespeak our diet,
While 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 the elephant:
Seb.
I do remember.
[Exeunt severally.
SCENE IV.
Olivia's Garden.
Enter Olivia, and Maria.
-- 53 --
Oli.
I have sent after him: He says, he'll come14Q0443;
How shall I feast him? what bestow of him?
For youth is bought more oft, than beg'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's 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 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.—I'm as mad as he,
If sad and merry madness note equal be.—
Enter Malvolio.
How now, Malvolio?
Mal.
Sweet, lady,—
[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 note has it, Please one, and
please all.
Oli.
Why note, how dost thou, man? what is the matter with thee?
Mal.
Not black in my mind, though yellow in my
legs: It did come to his hands, and commands shall
be executed. I think, we do know the sweet Roman
hand.
Oli.
Wilt thou go to bed, Malvolio?
-- 54 --
Mal.
To bed? ay, sweet heart; and I'll come to thee.
Oli.
God 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.
Heaven 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?
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.
Oli.
Why, this is very midsummer madness.
Enter a Servant.
Ser.
Madam, the young gentleman of the count
Orsino's is return'd; I could hardly intreat him back;
he attends your ladyship's pleasure.
Oli.
I'll come to him. [Exit Ser.] Good Maria, let
this fellow be look'd to. Where's my cousin 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 Olivia, and Maria.
-- 55 --
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: she sends him on purpose, that I
may appear stubborn to him; for she incites me to
that in the letter. Cast thy humble slough, says she: be
opposite with a kinsman, surly with servants; let thy
tongue note tang arguments note 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 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! not Malvolio, nor
after my degree, but fellow. Why, every thing adheres
together; that no dram of a scruple, no scruple of a
scruple, no obstacle, no incredulous or unsafe circumstance,
—What can be said? Nothing, that can be, can
come between me and the full prospect of my hopes.
Well, Jove, not I, is the doer of this, and he is to be
thanked.
Re-enter Maria, with Sir Toby, and Fabian.
Sir T.
Which way is he, in the name of sanctity? If
all the devils in hell be drawn in little, and Legion himself
possess'd him, yet I'll speak to him.
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 private;
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.
-- 56 --
Mal.
Ah, ha, does she so?
Sir T.
Go to, go to; peace, peace, we must deal
gently with him; let me 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, an you speak ill of the devil, how he
takes it at heart. Pray God, he be not bewitch'd!
Fab.
Carry his water to the wise woman.
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 T.
Pr'ythee, hold thy peace, this 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 T.
Why, how now, my bawcock? how dost thou,
chuck?
Mal.
Sir?
Sir T.
Ay, biddy, come with me. What, man; 'tis
not for gravity to play at cherry-pit with Satan: Hang
him foul collier? note
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.
Mal.
Go, hang yourselves all! you are idle shallow
things: I am not of your element; you shall know
more hereafter.
[Exit Malvolio.
-- 57 --
Sir T.
Is't possible?
Fab.
If this were play'd upon a stage now, I could
condemn it as an improbable fiction.
Sir T.
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 note the quieter.
Sir T.
Come, we'll have him in a dark room, and
bound. My niece is already in the belief that he's mad;
we may carry it thus, for our pleasure, and his penance,
'till our very pastime, tired out of breath, prompt us to
have mercy on him: at which time, we will bring the
device to the bar, and crown thee for a finder of madmen:
But see, but see.
Enter Sir Andrew.
Fab.
More matter for a May morning.
Sir A.
Here's the † challenge, read it; I warrant,
there's vinegar and pepper in't.
Fab.
Is't so saucy?
Sir A.
Ay, is't? I warrant him: do but read.
Sir T.
Give me. [reads.] Youth, whatsoever thou art,
thou art but a scurvy fellow:
Fab.
Good, and valiant.
Sir T.
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 T.
Thou com'st to the lady Olivia, and in my sight
she uses thee kindly: but thou ly'st in thy throat, that is not
the matter I challenge thee for.
-- 58 --
Fab.
Very brief, and exceeding note good senseless.
Sir T.
I will way-lay thee going home: where if it be
thy chance to kill me,—
Fab.
Good.
Sir T.
Thou kill'st me like a rogue and a villain.
Fab.
Still you keep o'the windy side of the law:
Good.
Sir T.
Fare thee well; And God 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 Ague-cheek.
If this letter move him not, his legs cannot: I'll giv'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 T.
Go, sir Andrew; scout me for him at the corner
of the orchard, like a bum-bailiff: so soon as ever thou
see'st him, draw; and, as thou draw'st, swear horribly: note
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 A.
Nay, let me alone for swearing.
[Exit Sir Andrew.
Sir T.
Now will not I deliver his letter: for the behaviour
of the young gentleman gives him out to be of
good capacity and breeding, his employment between
his lord and my niece confirms no less; therefore this
letter, being so excellently ignorant, will breed no terror
in the youth, he will find it comes from a clod-pole.
-- 59 --
But, sir, I will deliver his challenge by word
of mouth; set upon Ague-cheek a notable report of valour;
and drive the gentleman (as, I know, his youth
will aptly receive it) 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.
Enter Olivia, and Viola.
Fab.
Here he comes with your niece: give them
way 'till he take leave, and presently after him.
Sir T.
I will meditate the while upon some horrid
message for a challenge.
[Exeunt Sir Toby, Fabian, and Maria.
Oli.
I have said too much unto a heart of stone,
And lay'd mine honour too unchary out note:
There's something in me, that reproves my fault;
But such a headstrong potent fault it is,
That it but mocks reproof.
Vio.
With the same 'haviour note that your passion bears,
Goes on my master's grief note.
Oli.
Here, wear this &dagger2; 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;
A fiend, like thee, might bear my soul to hell.
[Exit Olivia.
-- 60 --
Re-enter Sir Toby, and Fabian.
Sir T.
Gentleman, God save thee.
Vio.
And you, sir.
Sir T.
That defense thou hast, betake thee to't: of
what nature the wrongs are thou hast done him, I know
not; but thy intercepter, full of despite, bloody as the
hunter, attends thee at the orchard end: dismount thy
tuck, be yare 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 T.
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 man withal.
Vio.
I pray you, sir, what is he?
Sir T.
He is knight14Q0444, dub'd with unhack'd note rapier, 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 sepúlcher:
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. I have
heard of some kind of men, that put quarrels purposely
on others, to taste their valour; belike, this is a man of
that quirk.
Sir T.
Sir, no; his indignation derives itself out of
a very competent injury; therefore, get you on, and
give him his desire. Back you shall not to the house,
unless you undertake that with me, which with as much
-- 61 --
safety you might answer him: note therefore, on, or strip
your sword stark naked; for meddle you must, that's
certain, or forswear to wear iron about you.
Vio.
This is an uncivil, as note strange. I beseech you,
do me this courteous office, to note know of the knight what
my offence to him is; it is something of my negligence,
nothing of my purpose.
Sir T.
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; 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.
Re-enter Sir Toby, with Sir Andrew.
Sir T.
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 note surely as your feet hit note the ground
they step on: They say, he has been fencer to the
Sophy.
Sir A.
Pox on't, I'll not meddle with him.
-- 62 --
Sir T.
Ay, but he will not now be pacify'd; Fabian
can scarce hold him yonder.
Sir A.
Plague on't; an 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 T.
I'll make the motion: Stand here, make a
good shew on't; this shall end without the perdition of
souls:—&clquo;Marry, I'll ride your horse, as well as I ride
you.—I have his horse [to Fab.] to take up the quarrel;
I have persuaded him, the youth's a devil.&crquo;
&clquo;Fab.
&clquo;He is as horribly conceited of him; and
pants, and looks pale, as if a bear were at his heels.&crquo;
Sir T.
There's no remedy, sir, [to Vio.] he will fight
with you for's oath's sake: marry, he hath better bethought
him of his quarrel, and he finds that now scarce
to be worth note talking of: therefore draw, for the supportance
of his vow; he protests, he will not hurt you.
&clquo;Vio.
&clquo;Pray God defend me! A little thing would
make me tell them how much I lack of a man.&crquo;
Fab.
Give ground, if you see him furious.
Sir T.
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 has promis'd
me, as he is a gentleman and a soldier, he will not
hurt you. Come on; to't.
Sir A.
Pray God, he keeps his oath!
[draws.
Vio.
I do assure you, [to Sir And.] 'tis against my
will.
[draws.
Enter Antonio; draws, and runs between.
Ant.
Put up your sword:—If this young gentleman
Have done offence, I take the fault on me;
-- 63 --
If you offend him, I for him defy you.
Sir T.
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 T.
Nay, if you be an undertaker, I am for you.
Enter two Officers.
Fab.
O, good sir Toby, hold; here come the officers.
Sir T.
I'll be with you anon.
[to Antonio.
Vio.
Pray, sir, put your sword up, if you please.
Sir A.
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. O.
This is the man; do thy office.
2. O.
Antonio, I arrest thee at the suit
Of count Orsino.
Ant.
You do mistake me, sir.
1. O.
No, sir, no jot; I know your favour well,
Though 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 befals myself. You stand amaz'd;
But be of comfort.
2. O.
Come, sir, away.
Ant.
I must intreat of you
Some of that money back.
Vio.
What money, sir?
For the fair kindness you have shew'd me here,
And, part, being prompted by your present trouble,
-- 64 --
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 unfound 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:
I hate ingratitude more in a man,
Than lying, vainness, babling drunkenness,
Or any taint of vice, whose strong corruption
Inhabits our frail blood.
Ant.
O heavens themselves!
2. O.
Come, sir, I pray you, go.
Ant.
Let me speak a little. This youth, that you see here,
I snatch'd 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. O.
What's that to us? the time goes by; away.
Ant.
But, o, how vile an idol proves this god!—
Thou 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'er-flourish'd by the devil.
1. O.
The man grows mad; away with him.
2. O.
Come, come, sir.
-- 65 --
Ant.
Lead me on.
[Exeunt Officers with Ant.
Vio.
Methinks, his words do from such passion fly,
That he believes himself; so do not I:
Prove true, imagination, o, prove true,
That I, dear brother, be now ta'en for you!
Sir T.
Come hither, knight, come hither, Fabian;
we'll whisper o'er a couplet or two of most sage saws.
[converse apart.
Vio.
He nam'd Sebastian: I my brother know
Yet living in my glass; even such, and so,
In favour was my brother; and he went
Still in this fashion, colour, ornament,
For him I imitate: O, if it prove,
Tempests are kind, and salt waves fresh in love.
[Exit Viola.
Sir T.
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, a most devout coward, religious in it.
Sir A.
'Slid, I'll after him again, and beat him.
Sir T.
Do, cuff him soundly, but never draw thy sword.
Sir A.
An I do not,—
[Exit.
Fab.
Come, let's see the event.
Sir T.
I dare lay any money, 'twill be nothing yet.
Edward Capell [1767], Mr William Shakespeare his comedies, histories, and tragedies, set out by himself in quarto, or by the Players his Fellows in folio, and now faithfully republish'd from those Editions in ten Volumes octavo; with an introduction: Whereunto will be added, in some other Volumes, notes, critical and explanatory, and a Body of Various Readings entire (Printed by Dryden Leach, for J. and R. Tonson [etc.], London) [word count] [S10601].
