SCENE I.
†††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.
So thou may'st say the King lyes 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 turned outward.
Vio.
Nay, that's certain; they that dally nicely with words
may quickly make them wanton.
Clo.
I would therefore my sister 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 loath to prove reason with
them.
-- 506 --
Vio.
I warrant thou art a merry fellow, and carest for nothing.
Clo.
Not so, Sir, I do care for something; but, 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 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. 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.
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 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 conster to them whence you come; who you are, and
what you would is out of my welkin, I might say element,
but the word is over-worn.
[Exit.
Vio.
This fellow is wise enough to play the fool,
-- 507 --
And to do that well, craves a kind of wit:
He must observe their mood on whom he jests,
The quality of the 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 mens folly fall'n, quite taints their wit.
SCENE II.
Enter Sir Toby, and Sir Andrew.
Sir To.
Save you, gentleman.
Vio.
And you, Sir.
Sir And.
Dieu vous guarde Monsieur.
Vio.
Et vous aussi, vostre serviteur.
Sir And.
I hope, Sir, you are; and I am yours.
Sir To.
Will you encounter the house, my neice is desirous
you should enter, if your trade be to her.
Vio.
I am bound to your neice, 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 gate 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.
-- 508 --
Vio.
My matter hath no voice, lady, but to your own most
pregnant and vouchsafed ear.
Sir And.
Odours, pregnant and vouchsafed: I'll get 'em all
three ready.
Oli.
Let the garden door be shut, and leave me to my hearing.
[Exeunt Sir Toby, Sir Andrew, and Maria.
SCENE III.
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 sollicit that
Than musick from the spheres.
Vio.
Dear 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
My self, my servant, and I fear me, you;
Under your hard construction must I sit,
-- 509 --
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,
And baited it with all th' unmuzzled thoughts
That tyrannous heart can think? to one of your receiving
Enough is shewn; a cypress, not a bosom,
Hides my poor heart. So let us hear you speak.
Vio.
I pity you.
Oli.
That's a degree to love.
Vio.
No not a † notegrice: 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 lyes 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; 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,
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!
-- 510 --
A murd'rous guilt shews not it self more soon
Than love that would seem hid: love's night is noon.
Cesario, by the roses of the spring,
By maid-hood, 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 never 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 IV.
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 neice 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.
-- 511 --
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 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 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 isicle on a Dutchman's beard, unless
you do redeem it by some attempt, either of valour or policy.
Sir And.
And'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 neice shall take note of it; and assure
thy self, 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 license of ink; if thou thou'st him
some thrice, 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, and go about it.
Let there be gall enough in thy ink, tho' thou write it with a
goose-pen, no matter: about it.
-- 512 --
Sir And.
Where shall I find you?
Sir To.
We'll call thee at the Cubiculo: go.
[Exit Sir Andrew.
SCENE V.
Fab.
This is a dear manakin 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 th' 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 of mine comes.
Mar.
If you desire the spleen, and will laugh your selves
into stitches, follow me; yond 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 villanously; 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 at him. I
-- 513 --
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.
[Exeunt.
SCENE VI.
The Street.
Enter Sebastian and Anthonio.
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 befall 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 Anthonio,
I can no other answer make but thanks,
And thanks: and ever oft-good turns
Are shuffled 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 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 satisfie our eyes
With the memorials, and the things of fame
-- 514 --
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 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.
Th' 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 my self 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.
-- 515 --
SCENE VII.
Olivia's House.
Enter Olivia and Maria.
Oli.
I have sent after him; he says he'll 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'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's wits.
Oli.
Go call him hither.
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?
-- 516 --
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.
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.
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?
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.
Ol.
Why this is very midsummer madness.
Enter servant.
Ser.
Madam, the young gentleman of the Duke Orsino's is
return'd, I could hardly entreat him back; he attends your
ladyship's pleasure.
-- 517 --
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.
[Exit.
SCENE VIII.
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 tang with arguments of state, put
thy self 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.
SCENE IX.
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.
Fab.
Here he is, here he is; how is't with you, Sir? how is't
with you, man?
-- 518 --
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, defie 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 God he be not bewitch'd.
Fab.
Carry his water to th' 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 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.
Mal.
Go hang your selves all: you are idle shallow things,
I am not of your element, you shall know more hereafter.
[Exit.
-- 519 --
Sir To.
Is't possible?
Fab.
If this were plaid upon a stage now, I could 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 neice 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.
SCENE X.
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.
-- 520 --
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.
Sir To.
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 thy self. Thy friend as thou usest him, and thy sworn enemy,
Andrew Ague-cheek.
Sir To.
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 it self 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; his imployment between his lord and my neice confirms
no less; 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, 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.
-- 521 --
SCENE XI.
Enter Olivia and Viola.
Fab.
Here he comes with your neice; 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.
Oli.
I've said too much unto a heart of stone,
And laid mine honour too unchary on't.
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 my 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.
A fiend like thee might bear my soul to hell.
[Exit.
SCENE XII.
Enter Sir Toby and Fabian.
Sir To.
Gentleman, God save thee.
Vio.
And you, Sir.
Sir To.
That defence thou hast, betake thee to't; of what
-- 522 --
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 † noteyare 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.
Vio.
I pray you, Sir, what is he?
Sir To.
He is Knight dubb'd with unhack'd 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 sepulcher: hob, nod, 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 To.
Sir, no: his indignation drives it self 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 safety you might answer him; 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 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?
-- 523 --
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.
[Exeunt.
SCENE XIII.
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.
-- 524 --
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 God 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 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 God he keep his oath.
SCENE XIV.
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.
-- 525 --
Sir To.
I'll be with you anon.
Vio.
Pray, Sir, put your sword up if you please.
[To Sir Andrew.
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 my self: you stand amaz'd,
But be of comfort.
2 Off.
Come, Sir, away.
Ant.
I must intreat of you some of that mony.
Vio.
What mony, Sir?
For the fair kindness you have shew'd me here,
And part being prompted by your present trouble,
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
-- 526 --
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.
Oh heav'ns themselves!
2 Off.
Come, Sir, I pray you go.
Ant.
Let me speak a little. 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!
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'erflourish'd by the devil.
1 Off.
The man grows mad, away with him:
Come come, Sir.
Ant.
Lead me on.
[Exit.
Vio.
Methinks his words do from such passion fly,
That he believes himself; so do not I:
Prove true, imagination, oh prove true,
That I, dear brother, be now ta'en for you.
Sir To.
Come hither, Knight, come hither, Fabian; we'll
whisper o'er a couplet or two of most sage saws.
Vio.
He nam'd Sebastian; I my brother know
Yet living in my glass, even such, and so
-- 527 --
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, a most devout coward, religious in it.
Sir And.
'Slid I'll after him again, and beat him.
Sir To.
Do, cuff him soundly, but never draw thy sword.
Sir And.
If I do not.
Fab.
Come, let's see the event.
Sir To.
I dare lay any mony 'twill be nothing yet.
[Exeunt.
George Sewell [1723–5], The works of Shakespear in six [seven] volumes. Collated and Corrected by the former Editions, By Mr. Pope ([Vol. 7] Printed by J. Darby, for A. Bettesworth [and] F. Fayram [etc.], London) [word count] [S11101].
