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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 would rather go with sir priest, than sir knight I care not who knows so much of my mettle. [Exeunt.

Re-enter Sir Toby, with 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: Fahian can scarce hold him yonder.

Sir And. Plague on't; an I thought he had been valiant, and so cunning in fence, I'd have seen him damned ere I'd have challenged him. Let him let the matter slip, and I'll give him my horse, gray Capilet.

Sir To. I'll make the motion: Stand here, make a good show on't; this shall end without the perdition of souls: Marry, Ill ride your horse as well as I ride you. [Aside.

Re-enter Fabian and Viola.

I have his horse [to Fab.] to take up the quarrel; I have persuaded him the youth's a devil.

Fab. He is as 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 his oath sake: marry, he hath better bethought him of his quarrel, and he finds that now scarce to be worth talking off: 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. Aside.

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 promised me, as he is a gentleman and a soldier, he will not hurt you. Come on: to't. Sir And. Pray God, he keep his oath. [Draws. Enter Antonio.

Vio. I do assure you 'tis against my will. [Draws. 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 defy 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 two Officers.

Fab. O good sir Toby, hold; here come the officers.

Sir To. I'll be with you anon. [To Antonio. Vio. Pray, sir, put up your sword, if you please. [To Sir Andrew. Sir And. Marry, will I, sir;-and, for that I promised you, I'll be as good as my word: He will Dear you easily, and reins well.

1 off. This is the man do thy office.

2 Off. Antonio, I arrest thee at the suit Of count Orsino. Ant.

You do mistake me, sir;

1 Off No, sir, no jot; I know your favour well, Though 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 myself. You stand amaz'd; But be of comfort.

2 Off. Come, sir, away.

Ant. I must entreat of you some of that money
Vio. What money, sir?

For the fair kindness you have show'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 is 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
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, babbling, drunkenness,
Or any taint of vice, whose strong corruption
Inhabits our frail blood.
Ant.
O heavens themselves!
2 Off. Come, sir, I pray you, go.
Ant. Let me speak a little. This youth that you
see here,

I snatch'd 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 Qff. What's that to us? The time goes by; away.
Ant. But, O, 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.

[Exeunt Officers with Antonio. Vio. Methinks, his words do from such passion fly, That he believes himself; so 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 whisper o'er a couple or two of most sage saws.

Vio. He nam'd Sebastian; I my brother know Yet living in my glass; even such, and so, In favour was my brother; and he went Still in this fashion, colour, ornament, For him I imitate: O, 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.

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Seb. Madam, I will.
Oli.

ACT IV.

O, say so, and so be!
[Exeunt.

SCENE I.-The Street before Olivia's House.

Enter Sebastian and Clown.

Clo. Will you make me believe, that I am not sent for you?

Seb. Go to, go to, thou art a foolish fellow; Let me be clear of thee.

SCENE II.-A Room in Olivia's House.

Enter Maria and Clown.

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. [Exit Maria.

Clo. Well held out, i'faith! No, I do not know Clo. Well, I'll put it on, and I will dissemble you; nor I am not sent to you by my lady, to bid myself in't; and I would I were the first that ever you come speak with her; nor your name is not dissembled in such a gown. I am not fat enough master Cesario; nor this is not my nose neither.to become the function well; nor lean enough to Nothing, that is so, is so.

Seb. I pr'ythee, vent thy folly somewhere else: Thou know'st not me.

Clo. 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 pr'ythee now, ungird thy strangeness, and tell me what I shall vent to my lady; Shall I vent to her, that thou art coming? Seb. I pr'ythee, foolish Greek, depart from me; There's money for thee; if you tarry longer, I shall give worse payment.

Clo. 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. Sir And. Now, sir, have I met you again? there's for you. [Striking Sebastian. Seb. Why, there's for thee, and there, and there: Are all the people mad? [Beating Sir Andrew. Sir To. Hold, sir, or I'll throw your dagger o'er the house.

Clo. This will I tell my lady straight: I would not be in some of your coats for two-pence.

[Exit Clown. Sir To. Come on, sir; hold. [Holding Sebastian. 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 struck him first, yet it's no matter for that. Seb. Let go thy hand.

Sir To. Come, sir, I will not let you go. Come, my young soldier, put up your iron: you are well fleshed; come on.

Seb. I will be free from thee. What wouldst
thou now?

If thou dar'st tempt me further, draw thy sword.
[Draws.
Sir To. What, what? Nay, then I must have an
ounce or two of this malapert blood from you.

Enter Olivia.

[Draws.

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
Be not offended, dear Cesario!
Rudesby, be gone!-I pr'ythee, gentle friend,

[sight!

[Exeunt Sir Teby, Sir Andrew, and Fabian.
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
May'st 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.

Seb. 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.

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 Belch and Maria.

Sir To. Jove bless thee, master parson. Clo. Bonos dies, sir Toby: for as the old hermit of Prague, that never saw pen and ink, very wittily said to a 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 To. To him, sir Topas.

Clo. What, hoa, I say,-Peace in this prison ! Sir To. The knave counterfeits well; a good knave.

Mal. [in an inner chamber.] 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 wronged: good sir Topas, do not think I am mad; they have laid me here in hideous darkness.

Clo. Fye, 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 courtesy: Say'st thou, that house is dark?

Mal. As hell, sir Topas.

Clo. Why, it hath bay-windows, transparent as barricadoes, and the clear stories towards the southnorth 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 abused: I am no more mad than you are; make the trial of it in any constant question.

Clo. What is the opinion of Pythagoras, concerning wild-fowl?

Mal. That the soul of our grandam might haply inhabit a bird.

Clo. What thinkest thou of his opinion? Mal. I think nobly of the soul, and no way ap. prove his opinion.

Clo. Fare thee well: Remain thou still in darkness thou shalt hold the 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.

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 findest him: I would, we were

Oli. Nay, come, I pr'ythee: 'Would thou'dst be well rid of this knavery. If he may be conveniently

rul'd by me

delivered, I would he were; for I am now so far in

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Enter Olivia and a Priest.

Oli. Blame not this haste of mine: If you mean well,

Mal. 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 thank-Now ful to thee for't.

Clo. Master Malvolio! Mal. Ay, good fool.

Clo. Alas, sir, how fell you besides your five wits? Mal. Fool, there was never man so notoriously abused: I am as well in my wits, fool, as thou art. Clo. But as well? then you are mad, indeed, if you be no better in your wits than a fool.

Mal. 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.

Clo. Advise you what you say; the minister is here. Malvolio, Malvolio, thy wits the heavens restore! endeavour thyself to sleep, and leave thy vain bibble babble.

Mal. Sir Topas,

Clo. Maintain no words with him, good fellow.Who, I, sir? not I, sir. God b'wi'you, good sir Topas.-Marry, amen.-I will, sir, I will.

Mal. Fool, fool, fool, I say,

Clo. Alas, sir, be patient. What say you, sir? I am shent for speaking to you.

Mal. Good fool, help me to some light, and some paper; I tell thee, I am as well in my wits as any inan in Illyria.

Clo. Well-a-day,-that you were, sir?

Mal. 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.

Clo. I will help you to't. But tell me true, are you not mad indeed? or do you but counterfeit ? Mal. Believe me, I am not; I tell thee true. Clo. Nay, I'll ne'er believe a madman, till I see his brains. I will fetch you light, and paper, and ink.

Mal. Fool, I'll requite it in the highest degree: I pr'y thee, be gone.

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Seb. 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,

go with me, and with this holy man, Into the chantry by there, before him, And underneath that consecrated roof, Plight me the full 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? Seb. I'll follow this good man, and go with you; And, having sworn truth, ever will be true. Oli. Then lead the way, good father;-And heavens so shine,

That they may fairly note this act of mine!

ACT V.

[Exeunt.

SCENE I.-The Street before Olivia's House.
Enter Clown and Fabian.

Fab. Now, as thou lovest me, let me see his letter.

Clo. Good master Fabian, grant me another request.

Fab. Any thing.

Clo. Do not desire to see this letter. Fab. That is, to give a dog, and, in recompense, desire my dog again.

Enter Duke, Viola, and Attendants.

Duke. Belong you to the lady Olivia, friends. Clo. Ay, sir; we are some of her trappings. Duke. I know thee well; How dost thou, my good fellow?

Clo. Truly, sir, the better for my foes, and the worse for my friends.

Duke. Just the contrary; the better for thy friends.

Cio. No, sir, the worse.

Duke. How can that be?

Clo. 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.

Clo. 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.

Clo. But that it would be double-dealing, sir, I would you could make it another.

Duke. O, you give me ill counsel.

Clo. 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.

Clo. 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 St. 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.

Clo. 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 cove-
tousness: but, as you say, sir, let your bounty take
a nap, I will awake it anon.
[Exit Clown.

Enter Antonio and Officers.
Vio. 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 bawbling 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 loss,
Cry'd fame and honour on him.-What's the mat-
i off. Orsino, this is that Antonio, [ter?
That took the Phoenix, and her fraught, from Can-
And this is he, that did the Tiger board, [dy;
When your young nephew Titus lost his leg:
Here in the streets, desperate of shame, and state,
In private brabble did we apprehend him.
Vio. 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?

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[me;

Be pleas'd that I shake off these names you give
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 ungrateful 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 add
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.

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Oli. Even what it please my lord, that shall be-
come 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 mis-
chief:

I'll sacrifice the lamb that I do love,

To spite a raven's heart within a dove. [Going.
Vio. And I, most jocund, apt, and willingly,
To do you rest, a thousand deaths would die.
Oli. Where goes Cesario?
Vio.

[Following.

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!

Oli. Ah me, detested! how am I beguil'd!
Vio. Who does beguile you? who does do you
wrong?

Oli. Hast thou forgot thyself? Is it so long?—
Call forth the holy father. [Exit an Attendant.
Duke.
Come away. [To Viola.
Oli. Whither, my lord? Cesario, husband, stay.
Duke. Husband?

Oli.
Ay, husband, can he that deny ?
Duke. Her husband, sirrah ?
Vio.

No, my lord, not I.
Oli. 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.-O, welcome, father!
Re-enter Attendant and Priest.

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 past 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,

Strengthen'd by interchangement of your rings;
And all the ceremony of this compact
be-Seal'd in my function, by my testimony:

[fore,

Duke. When came he to this town?
Ant. To-day, my lord; and for three months
(No interim, 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.

[have,

Oli. What would my lord, but that he may not
Wherein Olivia may seem serviceable ?-
Cesario, you do not keep promise with me.
Vio. Madam ?

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Since when, my watch hath told me, toward my
I have travelled but two hours.
[grave,
Duke. O, thou dissembling cub! what wilt thou
When time hath sow'd a grizzle on thy case? [be,
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.
Vio. My lord, I do protest,-
Oli.
O, do not swear;
Hold little faith, though thou hast too much fear.
Enter Sir Andrew Ague-cheek, with his head broke.
Sir And. For the love of God, a surgeon; send
one presently to sir Toby.

Oli. What's the matter?

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my head for nothing; and that that I did, I was
set on to do't by sir Toby.

Vio. 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.

Sir And. If a bloody coxcomb be a hurt, you have hurt me; I think, you set nothing by a bloody corcomb.

Enter Sir Toby Belch, drunk, led by the Clown. Here comes Sir Toby halting, you shall hear more: but if he had not been in drink, he would have tickled you othergates than he did.

Duke. How now, gentleman ? how is't with you? Sir To. That's all one; he has hurt me, and there's the end on't. Sot, did'st see Dick surgeon,

sot?

Clo. O he's drunk, sir Toby, an hour agone; his eyes were set at eight i' the morning.

Sir To. Then he's a rogue. After a passy-measure, or a pavin, I hate a drunken rogue.

Oli. Away with him: Who hath made this haVock with them?

Sir And. I'll help you, sir Toby, because we'll be dressed together.

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All the occurrence of my fortune since
Hath been between this lady and this lord.
Seb. So comes it, lady, you have been mistook :
[To Olivia.
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:
Boy, thou hast said to me a thousand times,

[To Viola.

Thou never should'st love woman like to me.
Vio. And all those sayings will I over-swear;
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.
Vio. 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.
Öli. He shall enlarge him :-Fetch Malvolio
[hither :-
They say, poor gentleman, he's much distract.
Re-enter Clown, nith a letter.

Sir To. Will you help? an ass-head, and a cox-And yet, alas, now I remember me,
comb, and a knave; a thin-faced knave, a gull?
Oli. Get him to bed, and let his hurt be look'd to.
[Exeunt Clown, Sir Toby, and Sir Andrew.
Enter Sebastian.

Seb. I am sorry, madam, I have hurt your kins-
But, had it been the brother of my blood, [man;
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

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Fear'st thou that, Antonio ?
Ant. How have you made division of yourself?-
An apple, cleft in two, is not more twin
Than these two creatures. Which is Sebastian ?
Oli. Most wonderful!

Seb. Do I stand there? I never had a brother:
Nor can there be that deity in my nature,
Of here and every where. I had a sister,

A most extracting frenzy of mine own
From my remembrance clearly banish'd his.-
How does he, sirrah?

Clo. Truly, madam, he holds Belzebub at the stave's end, as well as a man in his case may do: he has here writ a letter to you, I should have given it you to-day morning; but as a madman's epistles are no gospels, so it skills not much, when they are delivered.

Oli. Open it, and read it.

Clo. Look then to be well edified, when the fool delivers the madman :-By the Lord, madam,

Oli. How now! art thou 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 i'thy right wits. Clo. So I do, madonna; but to read his right wits, is to read thus: therefore perpend, my princess, and give ear.

Oli. Read it you, sirrah.

[To Fabian. 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 cousin Whom the blind waves and surges have devour'd:-rule over me, yet have I the benefit of my senses as Of charity, what kin are you to me? [To Viola. What countryman? what name? what parentage? Vio. 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.

Seb.
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!
Vio. My father had a mole upon his brow.
Seb. And so had mine.

Vio. And died that day when Viola from her birth
Had number'd thirteen years.

Seb. O, that record is lively in my soul!
He finished, indeed, his mortal act,
That day that made my sister thirteen years.
Vio. 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;

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. 1
leave my duty a little unthought of, and speak out of
my injury.
The madly-used Malvolio.

Oli. Did he write this?
Clo. Ay, madam.

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