A most ^{b note}extracting frenzy of mine own
From my remembrance clearly banish'd his.
How does he, sirrah?

Clo.

Truly, madam, he holds Belzebub at the staves end as well as a man in his case may do: h'as here writ a letter to you, I should have given't you to day morning. But as a mad-man's epistles are no gospels, so it skills not much when they are deliver'd.

Oli.

Open't and read it.

Clo.

Look then to be well edify'd, when the fool delivers the mad-man—By the lord, madam.

Oli.

How now, art mad?

Clo.

No, madam, I do but read madness: an your ladyship will have it as it ought to be, you must allow Vox.

Oli.

Pr'ythee read it, i'thy right wits.

Clo.

So I do, Madona; but to read his right wits, is to read thus: therefore perpend, my princess, and give ear.

Oli.

Read it you, sirrah.

Fab. [Reads.]

By the lord, madam, you wrong me, and the world shall know it: though you have put me into darkness, and given your drunken uncle rule over me, yet have I benefit of my senses as well as your ladyship. I have your own letter, that induced me to the semblance I put on; with the which I doubt not but to do my self much right, or you much shame: think of me as you please: I leave my duty a little unthought of, and speak out of my injury.

The madly us'd Malvolio.

Oli.

Did he write this?

Clo.

Ay, madam.

Duke.

This savours not much of distraction.

Oli.
See him deliver'd, Fabian, bring him hither.
My lord, so please you, these things further thought on,

To think me as well a sister, as a wife,
One day shall crown th' alliance on't, so please you;
Here at my house, and at my proper cost.

Duke.
Madam, I am most apt t'embrace your offer.
Your master quits you; and for your service done him,
So much against the metal of your sex, [To Viola.
So far beneath your soft and tender breeding.
And since you call'd me master for so long,
Here is my hand, you shall from this time be
Your master's mistress.

Oli.
A sister, you are she.

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