ACT III. SCENE I. OLIVIA'S garden  Enter VIOLA, and CLOWN with a tabor    VIOLA. Save thee, friend, and thy music!     Dost thou live by thy tabor?   CLOWN. No, sir, I live by the church.   VIOLA. Art thou a churchman?   CLOWN. No such matter, sir: I do live by the church; for I do live     at my house, and my house doth stand by the church.   VIOLA. So thou mayst say the king lies by a beggar, if a beggar     dwell near him; or the church stands by thy tabor, if thy tabor     stand by the church.   CLOWN. You have said, sir. To see this age! A sentence is but a     chev'ril glove to a good wit. How quickly the wrong side may be     turn'd outward!   VIOLA. Nay, that's certain; they that dally nicely with words may     quickly make them wanton.   CLOWN. I would, therefore, my sister had had name, sir.   VIOLA. Why, man?   CLOWN. Why, sir, her name's a word; and to dally with that word     might make my sister wanton. But indeed words are very rascals     since bonds disgrac'd them.   VIOLA. Thy reason, man?   CLOWN. Troth, sir, I can yield you none without words, and words     are grown so false I am loath to prove reason with them.   VIOLA. I warrant thou art a merry fellow and car'st for nothing.   CLOWN. Not so, sir; I do care for something; but in my conscience,     sir, I do not care for you. If that be to care for nothing, sir,     I would it would make you invisible.   VIOLA. Art not thou the Lady Olivia's fool?   CLOWN. No, indeed, sir; the Lady Olivia has no folly; she will keep     no fool, sir, till she be married; and fools are as like husbands     as pilchers are to herrings- the husband's the bigger. I am     indeed not her fool, but her corrupter of words.   VIOLA. I saw thee late at the Count Orsino's.   CLOWN. Foolery, sir, does walk about the orb like the sun- it     shines everywhere. I would be sorry, sir, but the fool should be     as oft with your master as with my mistress: think I saw your     wisdom there.   VIOLA. Nay, an thou pass upon me, I'll no more with thee.     Hold, there's expenses for thee.             [Giving a coin]   CLOWN. Now Jove, in his next commodity of hair, send the a beard!   VIOLA. By my troth, I'll tell thee, I am almost sick for one;     [Aside] though I would not have it grow on my chin.- Is thy lady     within?   CLOWN. Would not a pair of these have bred, sir?   VIOLA. Yes, being kept together and put to use.   CLOWN. I would play Lord Pandarus of Phrygia, sir, to bring a     Cressida to this Troilus.   VIOLA. I understand you, sir; 'tis well begg'd.                                            [Giving another coin]   CLOWN. The matter, I hope, is not great, sir, begging but a beggar:     Cressida was a beggar. My lady is within, sir. I will construe to     them whence you come; who you are and what you would are out of     my welkin- I might say 'element' but the word is overworn.                                                       Exit CLOWN   VIOLA. This fellow is wise enough to play the fool;     And to do that well craves a kind of wit.     He must observe their mood on whom he jests,     The quality of persons, and the time;     And, like the haggard, check at every feather     That comes before his eye. This is a practice     As full of labour as a wise man's art;     For folly that he wisely shows is fit;     But wise men, folly-fall'n, quite taint their wit.                  Enter SIR TOBY and SIR ANDREW    SIR TOBY. Save you, gentleman!   VIOLA. And you, sir.   AGUECHEEK. Dieu vous garde, monsieur.   VIOLA. Et vous aussi; votre serviteur.   AGUECHEEK. I hope, sir, you are; and I am yours.   SIR TOBY. Will you encounter the house? My niece is desirous you     should enter, if your trade be to her.   VIOLA. I am bound to your niece, sir; I mean, she is the list of my     voyage.   SIR TOBY. Taste your legs, sir; put them to motion.   VIOLA. My legs do better understand me, sir, than I understand what     you mean by bidding me taste my legs.   SIR TOBY. I mean, to go, sir, to enter.   VIOLA. I will answer you with gait and entrance. But we are     prevented.                    Enter OLIVIA and MARIA      Most excellent accomplish'd lady, the heavens rain odours on you!   AGUECHEEK. That youth's a rare courtier- 'Rain odours' well!   VIOLA. My matter hath no voice, lady, but to your own most pregnant     and vouchsafed car.   AGUECHEEK. 'Odours,' 'pregnant,' and 'vouchsafed'- I'll get 'em all     three all ready.   OLIVIA. Let the garden door be shut, and leave me to my hearing.     [Exeunt all but OLIVIA and VIOLA] Give me your hand, sir.   VIOLA. My duty, madam, and most humble service.   OLIVIA. What is your name?   VIOLA. Cesario is your servant's name, fair Princess.   OLIVIA. My servant, sir! 'Twas never merry world     Since lowly feigning was call'd compliment.     Y'are servant to the Count Orsino, youth.   VIOLA. And he is yours, and his must needs be yours:     Your servant's servant is your servant, madam.   OLIVIA. For him, I think not on him; for his thoughts,     Would they were blanks rather than fill'd with me!   VIOLA. Madam, I come to whet your gentle thoughts     On his behalf.   OLIVIA. O, by your leave, I pray you:     I bade you never speak again of him;     But, would you undertake another suit,     I had rather hear you to solicit that     Than music from the spheres.   VIOLA. Dear lady-   OLIVIA. Give me leave, beseech you. I did send,     After the last enchantment you did here,     A ring in chase of you; so did I abuse     Myself, my servant, and, I fear me, you.     Under your hard construction must I sit,     To force that on you in a shameful cunning     Which you knew none of yours. What might you think?     Have you not set mine honour at the stake,     And baited it with all th' unmuzzled thoughts     That tyrannous heart can think? To one of your receiving     Enough is shown: a cypress, not a bosom,     Hides my heart. So, let me hear you speak.   VIOLA. I Pity YOU.   OLIVIA. That's a degree to love.   VIOLA. No, not a grize; for 'tis a vulgar proof     That very oft we pity enemies.   OLIVIA. Why, then, methinks 'tis time to smile again.     O world, how apt the poor are to be proud!     If one should be a prey, how much the better     To fall before the lion than the wolf!       [Clock strikes]     The clock upbraids me with the waste of time.     Be not afraid, good youth; I will not have you;     And yet, when wit and youth is come to harvest,     Your wife is like to reap a proper man.     There lies your way, due west.   VIOLA. Then westward-ho!     Grace and good disposition attend your ladyship!     You'll nothing, madam, to my lord by me?   OLIVIA. Stay.     I prithee tell me what thou think'st of me.   VIOLA. That you do think you are not what you are.   OLIVIA. If I think so, I think the same of you.   VIOLA. Then think you right: I am not what I am.   OLIVIA. I would you were as I would have you be!   VIOLA. Would it be better, madam, than I am?     I wish it might, for now I am your fool.   OLIVIA. O, what a deal of scorn looks beautiful     In the contempt and anger of his lip!     A murd'rous guilt shows not itself more soon     Than love that would seem hid: love's night is noon.     Cesario, by the roses of the spring,     By maidhood, honour, truth, and every thing,     I love thee so that, maugre all thy pride,     Nor wit nor reason can my passion hide.     Do not extort thy reasons from this clause,     For that I woo, thou therefore hast no cause;     But rather reason thus with reason fetter:     Love sought is good, but given unsought is better.   VIOLA. By innocence I swear, and by my youth,     I have one heart, one bosom, and one truth,     And that no woman has; nor never none     Shall mistress be of it, save I alone.     And so adieu, good madam; never more     Will I my master's tears to you deplore.   OLIVIA. Yet come again; for thou perhaps mayst move     That heart which now abhors to like his love.         Exeunt     SCENE II. OLIVIA'S house  Enter SIR TOBY, SIR ANDREW and FABIAN    AGUECHEEK. No, faith, I'll not stay a jot longer.   SIR TOBY. Thy reason, dear venom, give thy reason.   FABIAN. You must needs yield your reason, Sir Andrew.   AGUECHEEK. Marry, I saw your niece do more favours to the Count's     servingman than ever she bestow'd upon me; I saw't i' th'     orchard.   SIR TOBY. Did she see thee the while, old boy? Tell me that.   AGUECHEEK. As plain as I see you now.   FABIAN. This was a great argument of love in her toward you.   AGUECHEEK. 'Slight! will you make an ass o' me?   FABIAN. I will prove it legitimate, sir, upon the oaths of judgment     and reason.   SIR TOBY. And they have been grand-jurymen since before Noah was a     sailor.   FABIAN. She did show favour to the youth in your sight only to     exasperate you, to awake your dormouse valour, to put fire in     your heart and brimstone in your liver. You should then have     accosted her; and with some excellent jests, fire-new from the     mint, you should have bang'd the youth into dumbness. This was     look'd for at your hand, and this was baulk'd. The double gilt of     this opportunity you let time wash off, and you are now sail'd     into the north of my lady's opinion; where you will hang like an     icicle on Dutchman's beard, unless you do redeem it by some     laudable attempt either of valour or policy.   AGUECHEEK. An't be any way, it must be with valour, for policy I     hate; I had as lief be a Brownist as a politician.   SIR TOBY. Why, then, build me thy fortunes upon the basis of     valour. Challenge me the Count's youth to fight with him; hurt     him in eleven places. My niece shall take note of it; and assure     thyself there is no love-broker in the world can more prevail in     man's commendation with woman than report of valour.   FABIAN. There is no way but this, Sir Andrew.   AGUECHEEK. Will either of you bear me a challenge to him?   SIR TOBY. Go, write it in a martial hand; be curst and brief; it is     no matter how witty, so it be eloquent and full of invention.     Taunt him with the license of ink; if thou thou'st him some     thrice, it shall not be amiss; and as many lies as will lie in     thy sheet of paper, although the sheet were big enough for the     bed of Ware in England, set 'em down; go about it. Let there be     gall enough in thy ink, though thou write with a goose-pen, no     matter. About it.   AGUECHEEK. Where shall I find you?   SIR TOBY. We'll call thee at the cubiculo. Go.                                                  Exit SIR ANDREW   FABIAN. This is a dear manakin to you, Sir Toby.   SIR TOBY. I have been dear to him, lad- some two thousand strong,     or so.   FABIAN. We shall have a rare letter from him; but you'll not     deliver't?   SIR TOBY. Never trust me then; and by all means stir on the youth     to an answer. I think oxen and wainropes cannot hale them     together. For Andrew, if he were open'd and you find so much     blood in his liver as will clog the foot of a flea, I'll eat the     rest of th' anatomy.   FABIAN. And his opposite, the youth, bears in his visage no great     presage of cruelty.                           Enter MARIA    SIR TOBY. Look where the youngest wren of nine comes.   MARIA. If you desire the spleen, and will laugh yourselves into     stitches, follow me. Yond gull Malvolio is turned heathen, a very     renegado; for there is no Christian that means to be saved by     believing rightly can ever believe such impossible passages of     grossness. He's in yellow stockings.   SIR TOBY. And cross-garter'd?   MARIA. Most villainously; like a pedant that keeps a school i' th'     church. I have dogg'd him like his murderer. He does obey every     point of the letter that I dropp'd to betray him. He does smile     his face into more lines than is in the new map with the     augmentation of the Indies. You have not seen such a thing as     'tis; I  can hardly forbear hurling things at him. I know my lady     will strike him; if she do, he'll smile and take't for a great     favour.   SIR TOBY. Come, bring us, bring us where he is.         Exeunt     SCENE III. A street  Enter SEBASTIAN and ANTONIO    SEBASTIAN. I would not by my will have troubled you;     But since you make your pleasure of your pains,     I will no further chide you.   ANTONIO. I could not stay behind you: my desire,     More sharp than filed steel, did spur me forth;     And not all love to see you- though so much     As might have drawn one to a longer voyage-     But jealousy what might befall your travel,     Being skilless in these parts; which to a stranger,     Unguided and unfriended, often prove     Rough and unhospitable. My willing love,     The rather by these arguments of fear,     Set forth in your pursuit.   SEBASTIAN. My kind Antonio,     I can no other answer make but thanks,     And thanks, and ever thanks; and oft good turns     Are shuffl'd off with such uncurrent pay;     But were my worth as is my conscience firm,     You should find better dealing. What's to do?     Shall we go see the reliques of this town?   ANTONIO. To-morrow, sir; best first go see your lodging.   SEBASTIAN. I am not weary, and 'tis long to night;     I pray you, let us satisfy our eyes     With the memorials and the things of fame     That do renown this city.   ANTONIO. Would you'd pardon me.     I do not without danger walk these streets:     Once in a sea-fight 'gainst the Count his galleys     I did some service; of such note, indeed,     That, were I ta'en here, it would scarce be answer'd.   SEBASTIAN. Belike you slew great number of his people.   ANTONIO.Th' offence is not of such a bloody nature;     Albeit the quality of the time and quarrel     Might well have given us bloody argument.     It might have since been answer'd in repaying     What we took from them; which, for traffic's sake,     Most of our city did. Only myself stood out;     For which, if I be lapsed in this place,     I shall pay dear.   SEBASTIAN. Do not then walk too open.   ANTONIO. It doth not fit me. Hold, sir, here's my purse;     In the south suburbs, at the Elephant,     Is best to lodge. I will bespeak our diet,     Whiles you beguile the time and feed your knowledge     With viewing of the town; there shall you have me.   SEBASTIAN. Why I your purse?   ANTONIO. Haply your eye shall light upon some toy     You have desire to purchase; and your store,     I think, is not for idle markets, sir.   SEBASTIAN. I'll be your purse-bearer, and leave you for     An hour.   ANTONIO. To th' Elephant.   SEBASTIAN. I do remember.                               Exeunt     SCENE IV. OLIVIA'S garden  Enter OLIVIA and MARIA    OLIVIA. I have sent after him; he says he'll come.     How shall I feast him? What bestow of him?     For youth is bought more oft than begg'd or borrow'd.     I speak too loud.     Where's Malvolio? He is sad and civil,     And suits well for a servant with my fortunes.     Where is Malvolio?   MARIA. He's coming, madam; but in very strange manner.     He is sure possess'd, madam.   OLIVIA. Why, what's the matter? Does he rave?   MARIA. No, madam, he does nothing but smile. Your ladyship were     best to have some guard about you if he come; for sure the man is     tainted in's wits.   OLIVIA. Go call him hither.                         Exit MARIA     I am as mad as he,     If sad and merry madness equal be.                 Re-enter MARIA with MALVOLIO      How now, Malvolio!   MALVOLIO. Sweet lady, ho, ho.   OLIVIA. Smil'st thou?     I sent for thee upon a sad occasion.   MALVOLIO. 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.'   OLIVIA. Why, how dost thou, man? What is the matter with thee?   MALVOLIO. 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.   OLIVIA. Wilt thou go to bed, Malvolio?   MALVOLIO. To bed? Ay, sweetheart, and I'll come to thee.   OLIVIA. God comfort thee! Why dost thou smile so, and kiss thy hand     so oft?   MARIA. How do you, Malvolio?   MALVOLIO. At your request? Yes, nightingales answer daws!   MARIA. Why appear you with this ridiculous boldness before my lady?   MALVOLIO. 'Be not afraid of greatness.' 'Twas well writ.   OLIVIA. What mean'st thou by that, Malvolio?   AIALVOLIO. 'Some are born great,'-   OLIVIA. Ha?   MALVOLIO. 'Some achieve greatness,'-   OLIVIA. What say'st thou?   MALVOLIO. 'And some have greatness thrust upon them.'   OLIVIA. Heaven restore thee!   MALVOLIO. 'Remember who commended thy yellow stockings,'-   OLIVIA. 'Thy yellow stockings?'   MALVOLIO. 'And wish'd to see thee cross-garterd.'   OLIVIA. 'Cross-garter'd?'   MALVOLIO. 'Go to, thou an made, if thou desir'st to be so';-   OLIVIA. Am I made?   MALVOLIO. 'If not, let me see thee a servant still.'   OLIVIA. Why, this is very midsummer madness.                       Enter SERVANT    SERVANT. Madam, the young gentleman of the Count Orsino's is     return'd; I could hardly entreat him back; he attends your     ladyship's pleasure.   OLIVIA. I'll come to him. [Exit SERVANT] Good Maria, let this     fellow be look'd to. Where's my cousin Toby? 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   MALVOLIO. O, ho! do you come near me now? No worse man than Sir     Toby to look to me! This concurs directly with the letter: she     sends him on purpose, that I may appear stubborn to him; for she     incites me to that in the letter. 'Cast thy humble slough,' says     she. 'Be opposite with kinsman, surly with servants; let thy     tongue tang with arguments of state; put thyself into the trick     of singularity' and consequently sets down the manner how, as: a     sad face, a reverend carriage, a slow 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, everything 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.               Re-enter MARIA, with SIR TOBY and FABIAN    SIR TOBY. Which way is he, in the name of sanctity? If all the     devils of hell be drawn in little, and Legion himself possess'd     him, yet I'll speak to him.   FABIAN. Here he is, here he is. How is't with you, sir?   SIR TOBY. How is't with you, man?   MALVOLIO. Go off; I discard you. Let me enjoy my private; go off.   MARIA. 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.   MALVOLIO. Ah, ha! does she so?   SIR TOBY. 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,     defy the devil; consider, he's an enemy to mankind.   MALVOLIO. Do you know what you say?   MARIA. La you, an you speak ill of the devil, how he takes it at     heart! Pray God he be not bewitched.   FABIAN. Carry his water to th' wise woman.   MARIA. Marry, and it shall be done to-morrow morning, if I live. My     lady would not lose him for more than I'll say.   MALVOLIO. How now, mistress!   MARIA. O Lord!   SIR TOBY. Prithee hold thy peace; this is not the way. Do you not     see you move him? Let me alone with him.   FABIAN. No way but gentleness- gently, gently. The fiend is rough,     and will not be roughly us'd.   SIR TOBY. Why, how now, my bawcock!     How dost thou, chuck?   MALVOLIO. Sir!   SIR TOBY. Ay, Biddy, come with me. What, man, 'tis not for gravity     to play at cherrypit with Satan. Hang him, foul collier!   MARIA. Get him to say his prayers, good Sir Toby, get him to pray.   MALVOLIO. My prayers, minx!   MARIA. No, I warrant you, he will not hear of godliness.   MALVOLIO. Go, hang yourselves all! You are idle shallow things; I     am not of your element; you shall know more hereafter.  Exit   SIR TOBY. Is't possible?   FABIAN. If this were play'd upon a stage now, I could condemn it as     an improbable fiction.   SIR TOBY. His very genius hath taken the infection of the device,     man.   MARIA. Nay, pursue him now, lest the device take air and taint.   FABIAN. Why, we shall make him mad indeed.   MARIA. The house will be the quieter.   SIR TOBY. Come, we'll have him in a dark room and bound. My niece     is already in the belief that he's mad. We may carry it thus, for     our pleasure and his penance, till our very pastime, 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     madmen. But see, but see.                       Enter SIR ANDREW    FABIAN. More matter for a May morning.   AGUECHEEK. Here's the challenge; read it. I warrant there's vinegar     and pepper in't.   FABIAN. Is't so saucy?   AGUECHEEK. Ay, is't, I warrant him; do but read.   SIR TOBY. Give me. [Reads] 'Youth, whatsoever thou art, thou art     but a scurvy fellow.'   FABIAN. Good and valiant.   SIR TOBY. [Reads] 'Wonder not, nor admire not in thy mind, why I do     call thee so, for I will show thee no reason for't.'   FABIAN. A good note; that keeps you from the blow of the law.   SIR TOBY. [Reads] 'Thou com'st 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.'   FABIAN. Very brief, and to exceeding good sense- less.   SIR TOBY. [Reads] 'I will waylay thee going home; where if it be     thy chance to kill me'-   FABIAN. Good.   SIR TOBY. 'Thou kill'st me like a rogue and a villain.'   FABIAN. Still you keep o' th' windy side of the law. Good!   SIR TOBY. [Reads] 'Fare thee well; and God 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.   MARIA. You may have very fit occasion for't; he is now in some     commerce with my lady, and will by and by depart.   SIR TOBY. Go, Sir Andrew; scout me for him at the corner of the     orchard, like a bum-baily; 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 earn'd him. Away.   AGUECHEEK. Nay, let me alone for swearing.                Exit   SIR TOBY. Now will not I deliver his letter; for the behaviour of     the young gentleman gives him out to be of good capacity and     breeding; his employment between his lord and my niece confirms     no less. 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 Aguecheek notable report of valour, and drive the     gentleman- as 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.                  Re-enter OLIVIA. With VIOLA    FABIAN. Here he comes with your niece; give them way till he take     leave, and presently after him.   SIR TOBY. I will meditate the while upon some horrid message for a     challenge.                               Exeunt SIR TOBY, FABIAN, and MARIA   OLIVIA. 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.   VIOLA. With the same haviour that your passion bears     Goes on my master's griefs.   OLIVIA. 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 sav'd may upon asking give?   VIOLA. Nothing but this- your true love for my master.   OLIVIA. How with mine honour may I give him that     Which I have given to you?   VIOLA. I will acquit you.   OLIVIA. Well, come again to-morrow. Fare thee well;     A fiend like thee might bear my soul to hell.           Exit                Re-enter SIR TOBY and SIR FABIAN    SIR TOBY. Gentleman, God save thee.   VIOLA. And you, sir.   SIR TOBY. That defence thou hast, betake thee tot. Of what nature     the wrongs are thou hast done him, I know not; but thy     intercepter, full of despite, bloody as the hunter, attends     thee at the orchard end. Dismount thy tuck, be yare in thy     preparation, for thy assailant is quick, skilful, and deadly.   VIOLA. 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 TOBY. 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.   VIOLA. I pray you, sir, what is he?   SIR TOBY. He is knight, dubb'd with unhatch'd rapier and on carpet     consideration; but he is a devil in private brawl. Souls and     bodies hath he divorc'd 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.   VIOLA. I will return again into the house and desire some conduct     of the lady. I am no fighter. I have heard of some kind of men     that put quarrels purposely on others to taste their valour;     belike this is a man of that quirk.   SIR TOBY. Sir, no; his indignation derives itself out of a very     competent injury; therefore, get you on and give him his desire.     Back you shall not to the house, 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.   VIOLA. 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 TOBY. I Will do so. Signior Fabian, stay you by this gentleman     till my return.                                Exit SIR TOBY   VIOLA. Pray you, sir, do you know of this matter?   FABIAN. I know the knight is incens'd against you, even to a mortal     arbitrement; but nothing of the circumstance more.   VIOLA. I beseech you, what manner of man is he?   FABIAN. 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.   VIOLA. 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 TOBY. Why, man, he's a very devil; I have not seen such a     firago. 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.   AGUECHEEK. Pox on't, I'll not meddle with him.   SIR TOBY. Ay, but he will not now be pacified; Fabian can scarce     hold him yonder.   AGUECHEEK. Plague on't; an I thought he had been valiant, and so     cunning in fence, I'd have seen him damn'd ere I'd have     challeng'd him. Let him let the matter slip, and I'll give him     my horse, grey Capilet.   SIR TOBY. I'll make the motion. Stand here, make a good show on't;     this shall end without the perdition of souls. [Aside] Marry,     I'll ride your horse as well as I ride you.                Re-enter FABIAN and VIOLA      [To FABIAN] I have his horse to take up the quarrel; I have     persuaded him the youth's a devil.   FABIAN. [To SIR TOBY] He is as horribly conceited of him; and pants    and looks pale, as if a bear were at his heels.   SIR TOBY. [To VIOLA] There's no remedy, sir: he will fight with you     for's oath sake. Marry, he hath better bethought him of his     quarrel, and he finds that now scarce to be worth talking of.     Therefore draw for the supportance of his vow; he protests he     will not hurt you.   VIOLA. [Aside] Pray God defend me! A little thing would make me     tell them how much I lack of a man.   FABIAN. Give ground if you see him furious.   SIR TOBY. 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 promis'd me, as he is a gentleman and     a soldier, he will not hurt you. Come on; to't.   AGUECHEEK. Pray God he keep his oath!                [They draw]                        Enter ANTONIO    VIOLA. I do assure you 'tis against my will.   ANTONIO. 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.   SIR TOBY. You, sir! Why, what are you?   ANTONIO. One, sir, that for his love dares yet do more     Than you have heard him brag to you he will.   SIR TOBY. Nay, if you be an undertaker, I am for you.                                                      [They draw]                           Enter OFFICERS    FABIAN. O good Sir Toby, hold! Here come the officers.   SIR TOBY. [To ANTONIO] I'll be with you anon.   VIOLA. Pray, sir, put your sword up, if you please.   AGUECHEEK. Marry, will I, sir; and for that I promis'd you, I'll be     as good as my word. He will bear you easily and reins well.   FIRST OFFICER. This is the man; do thy office.   SECOND OFFICER. Antonio, I arrest thee at the suit     Of Count Orsino.   ANTONIO. You do mistake me, sir.   FIRST OFFICER. 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.   ANTONIO. I Must obey. [To VIOLA] 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.   SECOND OFFICER. Come, sir, away.   ANTONIO. I must entreat of you some of that money.   VIOLA. 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's half my coffer.   ANTONIO. 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.   VIOLA. 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.   ANTONIO. O heavens themselves!   SECOND OFFICER. Come, sir, I pray you go.   ANTONIO. 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.   FIRST OFFICER. What's that to us? The time goes by; away.   ANTONIO. 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.   FIRST OFFICER. The man grows mad. Away with him.     Come, come, sir.   ANTONIO. Lead me on.                        Exit with OFFICERS   VIOLA. 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 TOBY. Come hither, knight; come hither, Fabian; we'll whisper     o'er a couplet or two of most sage saws.   VIOLA. 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 TOBY. 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.   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