Sir And. I'll help you, sir Toby, because we'll be dressed together. Sir To. Will you help † an ass-head, and a coxcomb, 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 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; How have the hours rack'd and tortur'd me, Ant. Sebastian are you? Seb. 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, [TO VIOLA. What countryman? what name? what parentage? + "Will you help? An ass-head, &c." MALONE. 4 A natural perspective,] A glass used for optical deception. 5 Of Charity,] i. e. out of charity, tell me, &c. So went he suited to his watery tomb: A spirit I am, indeed: 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, Vio. If nothing lets to make us happy both, I'll bring you to a captain in this town, But nature to her bias drew in that. [TO OLIVIA. You would have been contracted to a maid; If this be so, as yet the glass seems true, 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, A gentleman, and follower of my lady's. Oli. 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. A most extracting frenzy of mine own 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 deli vers 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.7 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. 6 A most extracting frenzy-] i. e. a frenzy that drew me away from every thing but its own object. 7 - you must allow vox.] i. e. my tone or voice. 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 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. Oli. Did he write this? Clo. Ay, madam. The madly-used MALVOLIO. Duke. This savours not much of distraction. Oli. See him deliver'd, Fabian; bring him hither. [Exit FABIAN. My lord, so please you, these things further thought on, One day shall crown the alliance on't, so please you, Duke. Madam, I am most apt to embrace your offer. Your master quits you; [To VIOLA.] and, for your ser vice done him, So much against the mettle of your sex, So far beneath your soft and tender breeding, Mal. Lady, you have. Pray you, peruse that letter: You must not now deny it is your hand, Oli. Alas, Malvolio, this is not my writing, First told me, thou wast mad; then cams't in smiling, Of thine own cause. Fab. Good madam, hear me speak; And let no quarrel, nor no brawl to come, Most freely I confess, myself, and Toby, Upon some stubborn and uncourteous parts geck,] A fool. 8 9 at sir Toby's great importance;] importunacy. |