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Oli. (9) How Thall I feast him? what bestow on
SCENE changes to Olivia's House.
Enter Olivia, and Maria.
him? For youth is bought more oft, than begg'd or bor.
Mar. He's coming, Madam; but in very strange
He is sure poffest, Madam.
Oli. Why, what's the matter, does he rave?
Mar. No, Madam, he does nothing but smile ; your lady ship were best to have some guard about you, if he come ; for, sure, the man is tainted in his wits.
Oli. Go call him hither.
"I'm as mad as he,
Mal. Sweet lady, ha, ha. [Smiles fantastically.
Oli. Smil'lt thou ? I sent for thee upon a sad occasion.
I am per
(9) I bave sent after bim, he says he'll come.] But Who did he say ro to ? Or from Whom could my Lady have any such Intelligence ? Her Servant employ'd upon this Errand, wa not yet return'd; and, when he does return, he brings Word that the Youth would hardly be intreated back. suaded, She was intended rather to be in Suspense, and deti berating with Herself : putting the Suppofition that he woul come: and asking Herself, in that case, how She should en tertain him.
. Sad, lady? I could be sad ; this does make some obstruction in the blood ; this cross-gartering ; but what of it? 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 doft thou, man? what is the matter with thee.
Mal. Not black in my mind, tho' yellow in my legs :
it did come to his hands, and commands shall be exe-d6cuted. I think, wę do know, that sweet Roman hand.
. Wilt thou go to bed, Malvolio? Mal. To bed : ay, sweet heart; and I'll come to thee.
Oli. God comfort thee! why dost thou smile so, and kiss thy hand so oft ?
Mar. How do you, Malvolio ?
Mal. At your request?
Mar. Why appear you with this ridiculous boldness before
Mal. Be not afraid of Greatness ; - 'twas well writ.
Mal. Remember, who commended thy yellow stock-
. Thy yellow stockings ?
Mal. Go to, thou art made, if thou desirest to be fo
Oli. Am I made ?
Enter Servant. Ser. Madam, the young gentleman of the Duke Or. fino's is return'd; 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. Where's my uncle Toby ? let some of my people have a special care of him; I would not have him miscarry for half of my dowry.
. Mal. Oh, oh! do you come near me now? no worse man than Sir Toby to look to me! this concurs directly with the letter ; she fends him on purpose that I may appear stubborn to him ; for she incites ne to that in the letter.' Cast thy humble slough, says she ; – be opposite with a kinsman,-furly with servants, let thy tongue tang with arguments of state, put thyself into the trick of fingularity ; and consequently sets down the manner how; as a sad face, a reverend carriage, a flow tongue, in the habit of some Sir of note, and so forth. I have lim'd her, but it is Jove's doing, and Jove make me thankful ! and when she went away now, let this fellow be look'd to: Fellow ! not Malvolio, nor after my degree. but fellow. Why, every thing adheres together, that no dram of a scruple, no scruple of a scruple, no obstacle, no incredulous or unsafe circumstance - what can be said ? Nothing, that can be, can come between me and the full prospect of my hopes. Well, Jove, not I, is the doer of this, and he is to be thanked.
Enter Sir Toby, Fabian, and Maria. Sir To. Which way is he, in the name of fanctity ? if all the devils in hell be drawn in little, and Legion himself posseft him, yet I'll speak to him.
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 pri
vacy: 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 the fo?
Sir To. Go to, go to; peace, peace, we must deal gently with him : let me alone. How do you, Malvolio? how is't with you? what ! man, defie the devil ; confider, he's an enemy to mankind.
Mal. Do you know what you say? Mar. La, you ! if you speak ill of the devil, how he takes it at heart.
Pray God, he be not bewitch'd.
Fab. Carry his water to th' wise woman.
Mar. Marry, and it shall be done to-morrow morning if I live. My lady would not lose him for more than
Mal. How now, mistress ?
Sir To. Pr’ythee, hold thy peace ; that is not the way: 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 us’d.
Sir To. Why, how now, my bawcock ? how dost thou, chuck?
What! man, 'tis not for gravity to play at cherry-pit with fatan. Hang him, foul collier.
Mar. Get him to say his prayers, good Sir Toby ; get Mal. My prayers, minx ! Mar. No, I warrant you, he will 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.
[Exit. Sir To. Is't possible ?
Fab. If this were plaid 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, left the device take air, and taint.
him to pray.
Fab. Why, we shall make him mad, indeed,
Sir To. Come, we'll have him in a dark room and bound. My neice is already in the belief that he's mad; we may carry it thus for our pleasure and his penance, 'till our very pattime, tired out of breath, prompt us to have mercy on him ; at which time we will bring the device to the bar, and crown thee for a finder of mad. men; but see, but fee.
Enter Sir Andrew.
Sir And. Here's the challenge, read it : I warrant, there's vinegar and pepper in't.
Fab. Is't so saucy?
[Sir Toby readi. Youth, what foever thou art, thou art but a scumiy fellow.
Fab. Good and valiant.
Sir To. Wonder not, nor admire not in thy mind why I do call thee fo; for I will few thee no reason for't.
Fab. A good note; That keeps you from the blow of the law.
Sir To. Thou com to the Lady Olivia, and in my fight jhe uses thee kindly ; but thou lief 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 kill ft me like a rogue and a villain.
Fab. Still you keep o'th' windy fide of the law: good.
Sir To. Fare thee well, and God have mercy upon one of our fouls : he may have mercy upon mine, but my hope is better, and so look to thyself. Thy friend as thou ufes bim, and thy fuorn enemy, Andrew Ague-cheek.
Sir To. If this letter move him not, his legs cannot: I'll give t him.