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Or any taint of vice, whofe ftrong corruption
Inhabits our frail blood.

Ant. O heav'ns themselves!

2 Off. Come, fir, I pray you, go.
Ant. Let me but speak

A little. Why, this youth that you see here,
I fnatch'd one half out of the jaws of death,
Reliev'd him with fuch fanctity of love;

And to his image, which, methought, did promise
Moft venerable worth, did I devotion.

1 Off. What's that to us? the time goes by; away.
Ant. But, o, how vile an idol proves this god!
Thou haft, 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. Surely, the man grows mad; away with him : Come, come, fir.

Ant. Lead me on.

[Exit with Off.

Vio. Methinks, his words do from such passion fly, That he believes himfelf; fo do not I:

Prove true, imagination, o, prove true,

That I, dear brother, be now ta'en for you!

Sir To.. Come hither, knight, come hither, Fabian; we'll whifper o'er a couplet or two of moft fage faws.

Vio. He nam'd Sebaftian: I my brother know

Yet living in my glafs; even fuch and fo

In favour was my brother; and he went
Still in this fashion, colour, ornament;

For him I imitate: o, if it prove,

Tempefts are kind, and falt waves fresh in love.

[Exit.

Sir To. A very dishonest paltry boy, and more a coward than a

hare: his dishonefty appears in leaving his friend here in neceffity, and denying him; and for his cowardship, ask Fabian.

Fab. A coward, devout coward, religious in it.

Sir And. Od's lid, I'll after him again, and beat him.
Sir To. Do, cuff him foundly, but ne'er draw thy fword.
Sir And. If I do not-

Fab. Come, let us fee the event.

Sir To. I dare lay money, 'twill be nothing yet. [Exeunt.

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ILL you make me believe, that I am not sent for you?

WIL Seb. Go to, go to, thou art a foolish fellow:

Let me be clear of thee.

Clo. Well held out, i'faith! No, I do not know you; nor I am not sent to you by my lady, to bid you come to speak with her; nor your name is not mafter Cefario; nor this is not my nose neither; nothing, that is fo, is fo.

Seb. I pr'ythee, vent thy folly fomewhere elfe; thou know'ft

not me.

Clo. Vent my folly! He has heard that word of fome great man, and now applies it to a fool. Vent my folly! I am afraid, this great lubber the world will prove a cockney. I pr'ythee now, ungird thy strangeness, and tell me what I shall vent to my lady; fhall I vent to her, that thou art coming?

Seb. I pr'ythee, foolish geck, depart from me; there's money for thee. If you tarry longer, I fhall give worfe payment.

Clo. By my troth, thou haft an open hand: these wife men, that give fools money, get themselves a good report after fourteen years purchase.

This feems to carry a piece of fatyr upon monopolies, the crying grievance of the time. The grants generally were for fourteen years: and the petitions being referr'd to a committee, it was fufpected that money gain'd favourable reports from thence.

VOL. II.

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Enter fir Andrew, fir Toby, and Fabian.

Sir And. Now, fir, have I met you again? there's for

you.

[Striking Sebaftian.

Seb. Why, there's for thee, and there, and there: are all the people mad? [beating for Andrew. Sir To. Hold, fir, or I throw your dagger o'er the house. Clo. This will I tell my lady straight: I would not be in fome your coats for two pence.

of

Sir To. Come on, fir, hold.

[Exit Clown. [bolding Sebaftian. Sir And. Nay, let him alone, I'll go another way to work with him; I'll have an action of battery against him, if there be any law in Illyria: though I ftruck him first, yet it's no matter for that.

Seb. let go thy hand.

Sir To. Come, fir, I will not let you go. Come, my young foldier, put up your iron; you are well flefh'd: come on.

Seb. I will be free from thee. What wouldst thou now? if thou dar'st tempt me further, draw thy fword.

Sir To. What, what? nay, then I must have an ounce or two of this malapert blood from you. [they draw and fight.

SCENE II.

Enter Olivia.

Oli. Hold, Toby; on thy life, I charge thee, hold.
Sir To. Madam?

Oli. Will it be ever thus? ungracious wretch,
Fit for the mountains, and the barbarous caves,
Where manners ne'er were preach'd: out of my fight !
Be not offended, dear Cefario.

Rudefby, be gone! I pr'ythee, gentle friend,

[Exeunt fir Toby and fir Andrew. Let thy fair wisdom, not thy paffion, fway In this uncivil and unjust extent Against thy peace. Go with me to my house,

And

And hear thou there, how many fruitless pranks
This ruffian hath botch'd up, that thou thereby
May'st smile at this: thou shalt not choose but go;
Do not deny: befhrew his foul for me!

He started one poor heart of mine in thec.

Seb. What relish is in this? how runs the ftream? Or I am mad, or elfe this is a dream.

Let fancy ftill my sense in Lethe steep;

If it be thus to dream, ftill let me fleep.

Oli. Nay, come, I pray: would thou'dst be rul'd by me! Seb. Madam, I will.

Oli. O, fay fo, and so be!

[Exeunt.

Mar.

N

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AY, I pr'ythee, put on this gown and this beard; make him believe, thou art fir Topas the curate; do [Exit Maria. Clo. Well, I'll put it on, and I will diffemble myself in't; and I would I were the first that ever diffembled in fuch a gown! I am not tall enough to become the function well, nor lean enough to be thought a good ftudent; but to be faid, an honest man, and a good housekeeper, goes as fairly as to fay, a graceful man, and a great scholar. The competitors enter,

it quickly. I'll call fir Toby the whilst.

Enter fir Toby, and Maria.

Sir To. Jove bless thee, mafter parfon.

Clo. Bonos dies, fir Toby; for as the old hermit of Prague, that never faw pen and ink, very wittily faid to a niece of king Gorboduck, that, that is, is: fo I, being master parson, am master parfon; for what is that, but that? and is, but is?

Sir To. To him, fir Topas.

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Clo. What, hoa, I fay, peace in this prifon!

[in a counterfeit voice. Sir To. The knave counterfeits well; a good knave.

[Malvolio within.

Mal. Who calls there? Clo. Sir Topas the curate, who comes to vifit Malvolio the lunatick.

[This and all that follows from the clown, in a counterfeit voice. Mal. Sir Topas, fir Topas, good fir Topas, go to my lady. Clo. Out, hyperbolical fiend! how vexeft thou this man? Talkeft thou nothing but of ladies?

Sir To. Well faid, mafter parfon.

Mal. Sir Topas, never was man thus wrong'd; good fir Topas, do not think I am mad; they have lay'd me here in hideous darkness.

Clo. Fie, thou difhoneft Sathan! I call thee by the most modeft terms; for I am one of thofe gentle ones that will use the devil himself with courtesy: Say'st thou that house is dark?

Mal. As hell, fir Topas.

Clo. Why, it hath bay-windows transparent as barricadoes, and the clear ftones towards the fouth-north are as luftrous as ebony; and yet complaineft thou of obstruction?

Mal. I am not mad, fir Topas; I fay to you, this house is dark. Clo. Madman, thou erreft; I fay, there is no darkness but ignorance, in which thou art more puzzled than the Egyptians in their fog.

Mal. I fay, 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 conftant question.

Clo. What is the opinion of Pythagoras concerning wild-fowl? Mal. That the foul of our grandam might happily inhabit a bird.

Clo. What think'st thou of his opinion?

Mal. I think nobly of the foul, and no way approve his opinion.

Clo.

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