SCENE 1.

_A Room in_ 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? I speak too loud.---- Where is Malvolio?

_Mar._ He's coming, madam; But in strange manner. He is sure possessed.

_Oli._ Why, what's the matter? does he rave?

_Mar._ No, madam, He does nothing but smile: your ladyship Were best have guard about you, if he come; For, sure, the man is tainted in his wits.

_Oli._ Go call him hither. [_Exit_ MARIA. I'm as mad as he, If sad and merry madness equal be.--

_Enter_ MALVOLIO, _in yellow Stockings, cross-garter'd, and_ MARIA.

How now, Malvolio?

_Mal._ Sweet lady, ho, ho. [_Smiles fantastically._

_Oli._ Smilest 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?

_Mal._ Not black in my mind, though yellow in my legs.--It did come to his hands, and commands shall be executed. I think, we do know the sweet Roman hand.

_Oli._ Wilt thou go to bed, Malvolio?

_Mal._ To bed!--Ay, sweet-heart; and I'll come to thee.

_Oli._ Heaven 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 mean'st thou by that, Malvolio?

_Mal._ _Some are born great_,--

_Oli._ Ha?

_Mal._ _Some achieve greatness_,--

_Oli._ What say'st thou?

_Mal._ _ And some have greatness thrust upon them._

_Oli._ Heaven restore thee!

_Mal._ _Remember who commended thy yellow stockings_;--

_Oli._ Thy yellow stockings?

_Mal_ _And wished to see thee cross-garter'd._

_Oli._ Cross-garter'd?

_Mal._ _Go to: thou art made, if thou desirest to be so_;--

_Oli._ Am I made?

_Mal._ _If not, let me see thee a servant still._

_Oli._ Why, this is very Midsummer madness.

_Enter_ FABIAN.

_Fab._ Madam, the young gentleman of the Duke Orsino's is returned; I could hardly entreat him back: he attends your ladyship's pleasure.

_Oli._ I'll come to him. Good Maria, let this fellow be look'd to.--Call my uncle Toby. [_Exit_ FABIAN. Let some of my people have a special care of him; I would not have him miscarry for the half of my dowry. [_Exeunt_ OLIVIA _and_ MARIA.

_Mal._ Oh, ho! do you come near me now? No worse man than Sir Toby to look to me? She sends him on purpose, that I may appear stubborn to him; for she incites me to that in the letter. I have limed her.--And, when she went away now, _Let this fellow be looked to_:--Fellow! not Malvolio, nor after my degree, but fellow. Why, every thing adheres together.--Well, Jove, not I, is the doer of this, and he is to be thanked.

_Sir To._ [_Without_] Which way is he, in the name of sanctity? If all the devils in hell be drawn in little, and Legion himself possessed him, yet I'll speak to him.

_Enter_ FABIAN, SIR TOBY, _and_ MARIA.

_Fab._ Here he is, here he is:--How is't with you, sir? how is't with you, man?

_Mal._ Go off, I discard you; let me enjoy my private; 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; we must deal gently with him. How do you, Malvolio? how is't with you? What, man! defy the devil: consider, he's an enemy to mankind.

_Mal._ Do you know what you say?

_Mar._ La you, an you speak ill of the devil, how he takes it at heart! Pray, heaven, he be not bewitch'd.

_Fab._ Carry his water to the wise woman.

_Sir To._ Pr'ythee, hold thy peace; 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 used.

_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, Sir Toby.

_Mal._ My prayers, minx?

_Mar._ No, I warrant you, he'll not hear of godliness.

_Mal._ Go, hang yourselves all! you are idle shallow things: I am not of your element; you shall know more hereafter. Begone. Ha! ha! ha! [_Exit_ MALVOLIO.

_Omnes._ Ha! ha! ha!

_Sir To._ Is't possible?

_Fab._ If this were played 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.--Follow him, and let him not from thy sight. [_Exit_ MARIA. But see, but see.

_Fab._ More matter for a May morning.

_Enter_ SIR ANDREW, _with a Letter_.

_Sir And._ Here's the challenge, read it; I warrant, there's vinegar and pepper in't.

_Fab._ Is't so saucy?

_Sir And._ Ay, is it, I warrant him: do but read.

_Sir To._ Give me.--[_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 show thee no reason for't._

_Fab._ A good note; that keeps you from the blow of the law.

_Sir To._ _Thou comest 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.

_Sir To._ _I will way-lay thee going home; where if it be thy chance to kill me_,--

_Fab._ Good.

_Sir To._ _Thou killest me like a rogue and a villain._

_Fab._ Still you keep o' the windy side of the law: Good.

_Sir To._ _Fare thee well; and heaven have mercy upon one of our souls! He may have mercy upon mine; but my hope is better, and so look to thyself. Thy friend, as thou usest him, and thy sworn enemy_, ANDREW AGUECHEEK.--If this letter move him not, his legs cannot: I'll give't him.

_Fab._ 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 garden, like a bum-bailiff; so soon as ever thou seest him, draw; and, as thou draw'st, swear horrible; 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 itself would have earned him. Away.

_Sir And._ Nay, let me alone for swearing. [_Exit_ SIR ANDREW.

_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; therefore this letter, being so excellently ignorant, will breed no terror in the youth, he will find it comes from a clodpole. 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.

_Fab._ Here he comes with your niece: 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_ SIR TOBY _and_ FABIAN.

_Enter_ VIOLA _and_ OLIVIA.

_Oli._ I have said too much unto a heart of stone, And laid mine honour too unchary out: There's something in me, that reproves my fault; But such a headstrong potent fault it is, That it but mocks reproof.

_Vio._ With the same 'haviour that your passion bears, Go on my master's griefs.

_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, saved, 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!

[_Exit_ OLIVIA.

_Enter_ SIR TOBY _and_ FABIAN.

_Sir To._ Gentleman, heaven save thee.

_Vio._ And you, sir.

_Sir To._ That defence thou hast, betake thee to't: of what nature the wrongs are thou hast done him, I know not; but thy intercepter, full of despight, bloody as the hunter, attends thee: dismount thy tuck, be yare 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 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 divorced three; and his incensement at this moment is so implacable, that satisfaction can be none but by pangs of death and sepulchre: hob, nob, is his word; give 't or take 't.

_Vio._ I will return, and desire some conduct of the lady. I am no fighter.

_Sir To._ Back you shall not, 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?

_Fab._ I know, the knight is incensed 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 would rather go with sir priest, than sir knight: I care not who knows so much of my mettle.

[_Exeunt._