Mar.

Nay, I pr'ythee 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 neice 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.

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.

Madman, 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 tryal of it in any constant question.

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: 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.