Shakespeare W. Twelfth Night; Or, What You Will

hare. His dishonesty appears in leaving his friend here in
necessity and denying him; and for his cowardship, ask Fabian.
FABIAN. A coward, a most devout coward, religious in it.
AGUECHEEK. 'Slid, I'll after him again and beat him.
SIR TOBY. Do; cuff him soundly, but never draw thy sword.
AGUECHEEK. And I do not- Exit
FABIAN. Come, let's see the event.
SIR TOBY. I dare lay any money 'twill be nothing yet.
Exeunt





ACT IV. SCENE I.
Before OLIVIA'S house

Enter SEBASTIAN and CLOWN

CLOWN. Will you make me believe that I am not sent for you?
SEBASTIAN. Go to, go to, thou art a foolish fellow; let me be clear
of thee.
CLOWN. 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 speak with her; nor your
name is not Master Cesario; nor this is not my nose neither.
Nothing that is so is so.
SEBASTIAN. I prithee vent thy folly somewhere else.
Thou know'st not me.
CLOWN. Vent my folly! He has heard that word of some 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 prithee now, ungird
thy strangeness, and tell me what I shall vent to my lady. Shall
I vent to her that thou art coming?
SEBASTIAN. I prithee, foolish Greek, depart from me;
There's money for thee; if you tarry longer
I shall give worse payment.
CLOWN. By my troth, thou hast an open hand. These wise men that
give fools money get themselves a good report after fourteen
years' purchase.

Enter SIR ANDREW, SIR TOBY, and FABIAN

AGUECHEEK. Now, sir, have I met you again?
[Striking SEBASTIAN] There's for you.
SEBASTIAN. Why, there's for thee, and there, and there.
Are all the people mad?
SIR TOBY. Hold, sir, or I'll throw your dagger o'er the house.
[Holding SEBASTIAN]
CLOWN. This will I tell my lady straight. I would not be in some of
your coats for two-pence. Exit
SIR TOBY. Come on, sir; hold.
AGUECHEEK. 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 struck him first, yet it's no matter for
that.
SEBASTIAN. Let go thy hand.
SIR TOBY. Come, sir, I will not let you go. Come, my young soldier,
put up your iron; you are well flesh'd. Come on.
SEBASTIAN. I will be free from thee. What wouldst thou now?
If thou dar'st tempt me further, draw thy sword. [Draws]
SIR TOBY. What, what? Nay, then I must have an ounce or two of this
malapert blood from you. [Draws]

Enter OLIVIA

OLIVIA. Hold, Toby; on thy life, I charge thee hold.
SIR TOBY. Madam!
OLIVIA. 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 sight!
Be not offended, dear Cesario-
Rudesby, be gone!
Exeunt SIR TOBY, SIR ANDREW, and FABIAN
I prithee, gentle friend,
Let thy fair wisdom, not thy passion, sway
In this uncivil and unjust extent
Against thy peace. Go with me to my house,
And hear thou there how many fruitless pranks
This ruffian hath botch'd up, that thou thereby
Mayst smile at this. Thou shalt not choose but go;
Do not deny. Beshrew his soul for me!
He started one poor heart of mine in thee.
SEBASTIAN. What relish is in this? How runs the stream?
Or I am mad, or else this is a dream.
Let fancy still my sense in Lethe steep;
If it be thus to dream, still let me sleep!
OLIVIA. Nay, come, I prithee. Would thou'dst be rul'd by me!
SEBASTIAN. Madam, I will.
OLIVIA. O, say so, and so be! Exeunt




SCENE II.
OLIVIA'S house

Enter MARIA and CLOWN

MARIA. Nay, I prithee, 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. Exit
CLOWN. Well, I'll put it on, and I will dissemble myself 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.

Enter SIR TOBY and MARIA

SIR TOBY. Jove bless thee, Master Parson.
CLOWN. Bonos dies, Sir Toby; for as the old hermit of Prague, that
never saw pen and ink, very wittily said to niece of King
Gorboduc 'That that is is'; so I, being Master Parson, am Master
Parson; for what is 'that' but that, and 'is' but is?
SIR TOBY. To him, Sir Topas.
CLOWN. What ho, I say! Peace in this prison!
SIR TOBY. The knave counterfeits well; a good knave.
MALVOLIO. [Within] Who calls there?
CLOWN. Sir Topas the curate, who comes to visit Malvolio the
lunatic.
MALVOLIO. Sir Topas, Sir Topas, good Sir Topas, go to my lady.
CLOWN. Out, hyperbolical fiend! How vexest thou this man!
Talkest thou nothing but of ladies?
SIR TOBY. Well said, Master Parson.
MALVOLIO. Sir Topas, never was man thus wronged. Good Sir Topas, do
not think I am mad; they have laid me here in hideous darkness.
CLOWN. Fie, thou dishonest Satan! I call thee by the most modest
terms, for I am one of those gentle ones that will use the devil
himself with courtesy. Say'st thou that house is dark?
MALVOLIO. As hell, Sir Topas.
CLOWN. Why, it hath bay windows transparent as barricadoes, and the
clerestories toward the south north are as lustrous as ebony; and
yet complainest thou of obstruction?
MALVOLIO. I am not mad, Sir Topas. I say to you this house is dark.
CLOWN. Madman, thou errest. I say there is no darkness but
ignorance; in which thou art more puzzled than the Egyptians in
their fog.
MALVOLIO. 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 trial of it
in any constant question.
CLOWN. What is the opinion of Pythagoras concerning wild fowl?
MALVOLIO. That the soul of our grandam might haply inhabit a bird.
CLOWN. What think'st thou of his opinion?
MALVOLIO. I think nobly of the soul, and no way approve his
opinion.
CLOWN. 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 soul of thy
grandam. Fare thee well.
MALVOLIO. Sir Topas, Sir Topas!
SIR TOBY. My most exquisite Sir Topas!
CLOWN. Nay, I am for all waters.
MARIA. Thou mightst have done this without thy beard and gown: he
sees thee not.
SIR TOBY. To him in thine own voice, and bring me word how thou
find'st him. I would we were well 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 niece that I cannot pursue with any safety
this sport to the upshot. Come by and by to my chamber.
Exit with MARIA
CLOWN. [Sings] Hey, Robin, jolly Robin,
Tell me how thy lady does.
MALVOLIO. Fool!
CLOWN. [Sings] My lady is unkind, perdy.
MALVOLIO. Fool!
CLOWN. [Sings] Alas, why is she so?
MALVOLIO. Fool I say!
CLOWN. [Sings] She loves another- Who calls, ha?
MALVOLIO. Good fool, as ever thou wilt deserve well at my hand,
help me to a candle, and pen, ink, and paper; as I am a
gentleman, I will live to be thankful to thee for't.
CLOWN. Master Malvolio?
MALVOLIO. Ay, good fool.
CLOWN. Alas, sir, how fell you besides your five wits?
MALVOLIO. Fool, there was never man so notoriously abus'd;
I am as well in my wits, fool, as thou art.
CLOWN. But as well? Then you are mad indeed, if you be no better in
your wits than a fool.
MALVOLIO. They have here propertied me; keep me in darkness, send
ministers to me, asses, and do all they can to face me out of my
wits.
CLOWN. Advise you what. you say: the minister is here.
[Speaking as SIR TOPAS] Malvolio, thy wits the heavens restore!
Endeavour thyself to sleep, and leave thy vain bibble-babble.
MALVOLIO. Sir Topas!
CLOWN. Maintain no words with him, good fellow.- Who, I, sir? Not
I, sir. God buy you, good Sir Topas.- Marry, amen.- I will sir, I
will.
MALVOLIO. Fool, fool, fool, I say!
CLOWN. Alas, sir, be patient. What say you, sir? I am shent for
speaking to you.
MALVOLIO. Good fool, help me to some light and some paper.
I tell thee I am as well in my wits as any man in Illyria.
CLOWN. Well-a-day that you were, sir!
MALVOLIO. By this hand, I am. Good fool, some ink, paper, and
light; and convey what I will set down to my lady. It shall
advantage thee more than ever the bearing of letter did.
CLOWN. I will help you to't. But tell me true, are you not mad
indeed, or do you but counterfeit?
MALVOLIO. Believe me, I am not; I tell thee true.
CLOWN. Nay, I'll ne'er believe a madman till I see his brains.
I will fetch you light and paper and ink.
MALVOLIO. Fool, I'll requite it in the highest degree; I prithe be
gone.
CLOWN. [Singing]
I am gone, sir,
And anon, sir,
I'll be with you again,
In a trice,
Like to the old Vice,
Your need to sustain;

Who with dagger of lath,
In his rage and his wrath,
Cries, Ah, ha! to the devil,
Like a mad lad,
Pare thy nails, dad.
Adieu, goodman devil. Exit




SCENE III.
OLIVIA'S garden

Enter SEBASTIAN

SEBASTIAN. This is the air; that is the glorious sun;
This pearl she gave me, I do feel't and see't;
And though 'tis wonder that enwraps me thus,
Yet 'tis not madness. Where's Antonio, then?
I could not find him at the Elephant;
Yet there he was; and there I found this credit,
That he did range the town to seek me out.
His counsel now might do me golden service;
For though my soul disputes well with my sense
That this may be some error, but no madness,
Yet doth this accident and flood of fortune
So far exceed all instance, all discourse,
That I am ready to distrust mine eyes
And wrangle with my reason, that persuades me
To any other trust but that I am mad,
Or else the lady's mad; yet if 'twere so,
She could not sway her house, command her followers,
Take and give back affairs and their dispatch
With such a smooth, discreet, and stable bearing,
As I perceive she does. There's something in't
That is deceivable. But here the lady comes.

Enter OLIVIA and PRIEST

OLIVIA. Blame not this haste of mine. If you mean well,
Now go with me and with this holy man
Into the chantry by; there, before him
And underneath that consecrated roof,
Plight me the fun assurance of your faith,
That my most jealous and too doubtful soul
May live at peace. He shall conceal it
Whiles you are willing it shall come to note,
What time we will our celebration keep
According to my birth. What do you say?
SEBASTIAN. I'll follow this good man, and go with you;
And, having sworn truth, ever will be true.
OLIVIA. Then lead the way, good father; and heavens so shine
That they may fairly note this act of mine! Exeunt





ACT V. SCENE I.
Before OLIVIA's house

Enter CLOWN and FABIAN

FABIAN. Now, as thou lov'st me, let me see his letter.
CLOWN. Good Master Fabian, grant me another request.
FABIAN. Anything.
CLOWN. Do not desire to see this letter.
FABIAN. This is to give a dog, and in recompense desire my dog
again.

Enter DUKE, VIOLA, CURIO, and LORDS

DUKE. Belong you to the Lady Olivia, friends?
CLOWN. Ay, sir, we are some of her trappings.
DUKE. I know thee well. How dost thou, my good fellow?
CLOWN. Truly, sir, the better for my foes and the worse for my
friends.
DUKE. Just the contrary: the better for thy friends.
CLOWN. No, sir, the worse.
DUKE. How can that be?
CLOWN. Marry, sir, they praise me and make an ass of me. Now my
foes tell me plainly I am an ass; so that by my foes, sir, I
profit in the knowledge of myself, and by my friends I am abused;
so that, conclusions to be as kisses, if your four negatives make
your two affirmatives, why then, the worse for my friends, and
the better for my foes.
DUKE. Why, this is excellent.
CLOWN. By my troth, sir, no; though it please you to be one of my
friends.
DUKE. Thou shalt not be the worse for me. There's gold.
CLOWN. But that it would be double-dealing, sir, I would you could
make it another.
DUKE. O, you give me ill counsel.
CLOWN. Put your grace in your pocket, sir, for this once, and let
your flesh and blood obey it.
DUKE. Well, I will be so much a sinner to be a double-dealer.
There's another.
CLOWN. Primo, secundo, tertio, is a good play; and the old saying
is 'The third pays for all.' The triplex, sir, is a good tripping
measure; or the bells of Saint Bennet, sir, may put you in mind-
one, two, three.
DUKE. You can fool no more money out of me at this throw; if you
will let your lady know I am here to speak with her, and bring
her along with you, it may awake my bounty further.
CLOWN. Marry, sir, lullaby to your bounty till I come again. I go,
sir; but I would not have you to think that my desire of having
is the sin of covetousness. But, as you say, sir, let your bounty
take a nap; I will awake it anon. Exit

Enter ANTONIO and OFFICERS

VIOLA. Here comes the man, sir, that did rescue me.
DUKE. That face of his I do remember well;
Yet when I saw it last it was besmear'd
As black as Vulcan in the smoke of war.
A baubling vessel was he captain of,
For shallow draught and bulk unprizable,
With which such scathful grapple did he make
With the most noble bottom of our fleet
That very envy and the tongue of los
Cried fame and honour on him. What's the matter?
FIRST OFFICER. Orsino, this is that Antonio
That took the Phoenix and her fraught from Candy;
And this is he that did the Tiger board
When your young nephew Titus lost his leg.
Here in the streets, desperate of shame and state,
In private brabble did we apprehend him.
VIOLA. He did me kindness, sir; drew on my side;
But in conclusion put strange speech upon me.
I know not what 'twas but distraction.
DUKE. Notable pirate, thou salt-water thief!
What foolish boldness brought thee to their mercies
Whom thou, in terms so bloody and so dear,
Hast made thine enemies?
ANTONIO. Orsino, noble sir,
Be pleas'd that I shake off these names you give me:
Antonio never yet was thief or pirate,
Though I confess, on base and ground enough,
Orsino's enemy. A witchcraft drew me hither:
That most ingrateful boy there by your side
From the rude sea's enrag'd and foamy mouth
Did I redeem; a wreck past hope he was.
His life I gave him, and did thereto ad
My love without retention or restraint,
All his in dedication; for his sake,
Did I expose myself, pure for his love,
Into the danger of this adverse town;
Drew to defend him when he was beset;
Where being apprehended, his false cunning,
Not meaning to partake with me in danger,
Taught him to face me out of his acquaintance,
And grew a twenty years removed thing
While one would wink; denied me mine own purse,
Which I had recommended to his use
Not half an hour before.
VIOLA. How can this be?
DUKE. When came he to this town?
ANTONIO. To-day, my lord; and for three months before,
No int'rim, not a minute's vacancy,
Both day and night did we keep company.

Enter OLIVIA and ATTENDANTS

DUKE. Here comes the Countess; now heaven walks on earth.
But for thee, fellow- fellow, thy words are madness.
Three months this youth hath tended upon me-
But more of that anon. Take him aside.
OLIVIA. What would my lord, but that he may not have,
Wherein Olivia may seem serviceable?
Cesario, you do not keep promise with me.
VIOLA. Madam?
DUKE. Gracious Olivia-
OLIVIA. What do you say, Cesario? Good my lord-
VIOLA. My lord would speak; my duty hushes me.
OLIVIA. If it be aught to the old tune, my lord,
It is as fat and fulsome to mine ear
As howling after music.
DUKE. Still so cruel?
OLIVIA. Still so constant, lord.
DUKE. What, to perverseness? You uncivil lady,
To whose ingrate and unauspicious altars
My soul the faithfull'st off'rings hath breath'd out
That e'er devotion tender'd! What shall I do?
OLIVIA. Even what it please my lord, that shall become him.
DUKE. Why should I not, had I the heart to do it,
Like to the Egyptian thief at point of death,
Kill what I love?- a savage jealousy
That sometime savours nobly. But hear me this:
Since you to non-regardance cast my faith,
And that I partly know the instrument
That screws me from my true place in your favour,
Live you the marble-breasted tyrant still;
But this your minion, whom I know you love,
And whom, by heaven I swear, I tender dearly,
Him will I tear out of that cruel eye
Where he sits crowned in his master's spite.
Come, boy, with me; my thoughts are ripe in mischief:
I'll sacrifice the lamb that I do love
To spite a raven's heart within a dove.
VIOLA. And I, most jocund, apt, and willingly,
To do you rest, a thousand deaths would die.
OLIVIA. Where goes Cesario?
VIOLA. After him I love
More than I love these eyes, more than my life,
More, by all mores, than e'er I shall love wife.
If I do feign, you witnesses above
Punish my life for tainting of my love!
OLIVIA. Ay me, detested! How am I beguil'd!
VIOLA. Who does beguile you? Who does do you wrong?
OLIVIA. Hast thou forgot thyself? Is it so long?
Call forth the holy father. Exit an ATTENDANT
DUKE. Come, away!
OLIVIA. Whither, my lord? Cesario, husband, stay.
DUKE. Husband?
OLIVIA. Ay, husband; can he that deny?
DUKE. Her husband, sirrah?
VIOLA. No, my lord, not I.
OLIVIA. Alas, it is the baseness of thy fear
That makes thee strangle thy propriety.
Fear not, Cesario, take thy fortunes up;
Be that thou know'st thou art, and then thou art
As great as that thou fear'st.

Enter PRIEST

O, welcome, father!
Father, I charge thee, by thy reverence,
Here to unfold- though lately we intended
To keep in darkness what occasion now
Reveals before 'tis ripe- what thou dost know
Hath newly pass'd between this youth and me.
PRIEST. A contract of eternal bond of love,
Confirm'd by mutual joinder of your hands,
Attested by the holy close of lips,
Strength'ned by interchangement of your rings;
And all the ceremony of this compact
Seal'd in my function, by my testimony;
Since when, my watch hath told me, toward my grave,
I have travell'd but two hours.
DUKE. O thou dissembling cub! What wilt thou be,
When time hath sow'd a grizzle on thy case?
Or will not else thy craft so quickly grow
That thine own trip shall be thine overthrow?
Farewell, and take her; but direct thy feet
Where thou and I henceforth may never meet.
VIOLA. My lord, I do protest-
OLIVIA. O, do not swear!
Hold little faith, though thou has too much fear.

Enter SIR ANDREW

AGUECHEEK. For the love of God, a surgeon!
Send one presently to Sir Toby.
OLIVIA. What's the matter?
AGUECHEEK. Has broke my head across, and has given Sir Toby a
bloody coxcomb too. For the love of God, your help! I had rather
than forty pound I were at home.
OLIVIA. Who has done this, Sir Andrew?
AGUECHEEK. The Count's gentleman, one Cesario. We took him for a
coward, but he's the very devil incardinate.
DUKE. My gentleman, Cesario?
AGUECHEEK. Od's lifelings, here he is! You broke my head for
nothing; and that that did, I was set on to do't by Sir Toby.
VIOLA. Why do you speak to me? I never hurt you.
You drew your sword upon me without cause;
But I bespake you fair and hurt you not.

Enter SIR TOBY and CLOWN

AGUECHEEK. If a bloody coxcomb be a hurt, you have hurt me; I think
you set nothing by a bloody coxcomb. Here comes Sir Toby halting;
you shall hear more; but if he had not been in drink, he would
have tickl'd you othergates than he did.
DUKE. How now, gentleman? How is't with you?
SIR TOBY. That's all one; has hurt me, and there's th' end on't.
Sot, didst see Dick Surgeon, sot?
CLOWN. O, he's drunk, Sir Toby, an hour agone; his eyes were set at
eight i' th' morning.
SIR TOBY. Then he's a rogue and a passy measures pavin. I hate a
drunken rogue.
OLIVIA. Away with him. Who hath made this havoc with them?
AGUECHEEK. I'll help you, Sir Toby, because we'll be dress'd
together.
SIR TOBY. Will you help- an ass-head and a coxcomb and a knave, a
thin fac'd knave, a gull?
OLIVIA. Get him to bed, and let his hurt be look'd to.
Exeunt CLOWN, FABIAN, SIR TOBY, and SIR ANDREW

Enter SEBASTIAN

SEBASTIAN. I am sorry, madam, I have hurt your kinsman;
But, had it been the brother of my blood,
I must have done no less with wit and safety.
You throw a strange regard upon me, and by that
I do perceive it hath offended you.
Pardon me, sweet one, even for the vows
We made each other but so late ago.
DUKE. One face, one voice, one habit, and two persons!
A natural perspective, that is and is not.
SEBASTIAN. Antonio, O my dear Antonio!
How have the hours rack'd and tortur'd me
Since I have lost thee!
ANTONIO. Sebastian are you?
SEBASTIAN. Fear'st thou that, Antonio?
ANTONIO. How have you made division of yourself?
An apple cleft in two is not more twin
Than these two creatures. Which is Sebastian?
OLIVIA. Most wonderful!
SEBASTIAN. Do I stand there? I never had a brother;
Nor can there be that deity in my nature
Of here and everywhere. I had a sister
Whom the blind waves and surges have devour'd.
Of charity, what kin are you to me?
What countryman, what name, what parentage?
VIOLA. Of Messaline; Sebastian was my father.
Such a Sebastian was my brother too;
So went he suited to his watery tomb;
If spirits can assume both form and suit,
You come to fright us.
SEBASTIAN. A spirit I am indeed,
But am in that dimension grossly clad
Which from the womb I did participate.
Were you a woman, as the rest goes even,
I should my tears let fall upon your cheek,
And say 'Thrice welcome, drowned Viola!'
VIOLA. My father had a mole upon his brow.
SEBASTIAN. And so had mine.
VIOLA. And died that day when Viola from her birth
Had numb'red thirteen years.
SEBASTIAN. O, that record is lively in my soul!
He finished indeed his mortal act
That day that made my sister thirteen years.
VIOLA. If nothing lets to make us happy both
But this my masculine usurp'd attire,
Do not embrace me till each circumstance
Of place, time, fortune, do cohere and jump
That I am Viola; which to confirm,
I'll bring you to a captain in this town,
Where lie my maiden weeds; by whose gentle help
I was preserv'd to serve this noble Count.
All the occurrence of my fortune since
Hath been between this lady and this lord.
SEBASTIAN. [To OLIVIA] So Comes it, lady, you have been mistook;
But nature to her bias drew in that.
You would have been contracted to a maid;
Nor are you therein, by my life, deceiv'd;
You are betroth'd both to a maid and man.
DUKE. Be not amaz'd; right noble is his blood.
If this be so, as yet the glass seems true,
I shall have share in this most happy wreck.
[To VIOLA] Boy, thou hast said to me a thousand times
Thou never shouldst love woman like to me.
VIOLA. And all those sayings will I overswear;
And all those swearings keep as true in soul
As doth that orbed continent the fire
That severs day from night.
DUKE. Give me thy hand;
And let me see thee in thy woman's weeds.
VIOLA. The captain that did bring me first on shore
Hath my maid's garments. He, upon some action,
Is now in durance, at Malvolio's suit,
A gentleman and follower of my lady's.
OLIVIA. He shall enlarge him. Fetch Malvolio hither;
And yet, alas, now I remember me,
They say, poor gentleman, he's much distract.

Re-enter CLOWN, with a letter, and FABIAN

A most extracting frenzy of mine own
From my remembrance clearly banish'd his.
How does he, sirrah?
CLOWN. Truly, madam, he holds Belzebub at the stave's end as well
as a man in his case may do. Has here writ a letter to you; I
should have given 't you to-day morning, but as a madman's
epistles are no gospels, so it skills not much when they are
deliver'd.
OLIVIA. Open't, and read it.
CLOWN. Look then to be well edified when the fool delivers the
madman. [Reads madly ] 'By the Lord, madam-'
OLIVIA. How now! Art thou mad?
CLOWN. No, madam, I do but read madness. An your ladyship will have
it as it ought to be, you must allow vox.
OLIVIA. Prithee read i' thy right wits.
CLOWN. So I do, madonna; but to read his right wits is to read
thus; therefore perpend, my Princess, and give ear.
OLIVIA. [To FABIAN] Read it you, sirrah.
FABIAN. [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 cousin rule over me, yet have I the 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 myself 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'

OLIVIA. Did he write this?
CLOWN. Ay, Madam.
DUKE. This savours not much of distraction.
OLIVIA. See him deliver'd, Fabian; bring him hither.
Exit FABIAN
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.
[To VIOLA] Your master quits you; and, for your service done
him,
So much against the mettle of your sex,
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
You master's mistress.
OLIVIA. A sister! You are she.

Re-enter FABIAN, with MALVOLIO

DUKE. Is this the madman?
OLIVIA. Ay, my lord, this same.
How now, Malvolio!
MALVOLIO. Madam, you have done me wrong,
Notorious wrong.
OLIVIA. Have I, Malvolio? No.
MALVOLIO. Lady, you have. Pray you peruse that letter.
You must not now deny it is your hand;
Write from it if you can, in hand or phrase;
Or say 'tis not your seal, not your invention;
You can say none of this. Well, grant it then,
And tell me, in the modesty of honour,
Why you have given me such clear lights of favour,
Bade me come smiling and cross-garter'd to you,
To put on yellow stockings, and to frown
Upon Sir Toby and the lighter people;
And, acting this in an obedient hope,
Why have you suffer'd me to be imprison'd,
Kept in a dark house, visited by the priest,
And made the most notorious geck and gul
That e'er invention play'd on? Tell me why.
OLIVIA. Alas, Malvolio, this is not my writing,
Though, I confess, much like the character;
But out of question 'tis Maria's hand.
And now I do bethink me, it was she
First told me thou wast mad; then cam'st in smiling,
And in such forms which here were presuppos'd
Upon thee in the letter. Prithee, be content;
This practice hath most shrewdly pass'd upon thee,
But, when we know the grounds and authors of it,
Thou shalt be both the plaintiff and the judge
Of thine own cause.
FABIAN. Good madam, hear me speak,
And let no quarrel nor no brawl to come
Taint the condition of this present hour,
Which I have wond'red at. In hope it shall not,
Most freely I confess myself and Toby
Set this device against Malvolio here,
Upon some stubborn and uncourteous parts
We had conceiv'd against him. Maria writ
The letter, at Sir Toby's great importance,
In recompense whereof he hath married her.
How with a sportful malice it was follow'd
May rather pluck on laughter than revenge,
If that the injuries be justly weigh'd
That have on both sides pass'd.
OLIVIA. Alas, poor fool, how have they baffl'd thee!
CLOWN. Why, 'Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some
have greatness thrown upon them.' I was one, sir, in this
interlude- one Sir Topas, sir; but that's all one. 'By the Lord,
fool, I am not mad!' But do you remember- 'Madam, why laugh you
at such a barren rascal? An you smile not, he's gagg'd'? And thus
the whirligig of time brings in his revenges.
MALVOLIO. I'll be reveng'd on the whole pack of you.
Exit
OLIVIA. He hath been most notoriously abus'd.
DUKE. Pursue him, and entreat him to a peace;
He hath not told us of the captain yet.
When that is known, and golden time convents,
A solemn combination shall be made
Of our dear souls. Meantime, sweet sister,
We will not part from hence. Cesario, come;
For so you shall be while you are a man;
But when in other habits you are seen,
Orsino's mistress, and his fancy's queen.
Exeunt all but the CLOWN

CLOWN sings

When that I was and a little tiny boy,
With hey, ho, the wind and the rain,
A foolish thing was but a toy,
For the rain it raineth every day.

But when I came to man's estate,
With hey, ho, the wind and the rain,
'Gainst knaves and thieves men shut their gate,
For the rain it raineth every day.

But when I came, alas! to wive,
With hey, ho, the wind and the rain,
By swaggering could I never thrive,
For the rain it raineth every day.

But when I came unto my beds,
With hey, ho, the wind and the rain,
With toss-pots still had drunken heads,
For the rain it raineth every day.

A great while ago the world begun,
With hey, ho, the wind and the rain,
But that's all one, our play is done,
And we'll strive to please you every day.
Exit

THE END