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Enter Scroant. Ser. Madam, the young gentleman of the count Orsino's is returned; I could hardly entreat him back: he attends your ladyship’s pleasure.
Oli. I'll come to him. [Exit Servant.] Good Maria, let this fellow be looked 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.
[Ereunt OLIVIA and MARIA. Mal. Oh, 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 a 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 limed her ; but it is Jove's doing, and Jove make me thankful! 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; that no dram of a scruple, no scru. ple 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 Belch, and FABIAN.
Sir To. 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. Fab. Here he is, here he is :--How is't with
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; 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.
Mal. Do you know what you say?
Mar. La you, an you speak ill of the devil, how he takes it at heart! Pray God, he be not bewitched !
Fab. Carry his water to the wise woman.
Mar. Marry, and it shall be done to-morrow morning, if I live. My lady would not lose him for more
than I'll say.
Mal. How now, mistress?
Sir To. Pr’ythee, hold thy peace; this 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 used.
Sir To. Why, how now, my bawcock? how dost thou, chuck?
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; good Sir Toby, get him to pray.
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.
[Erit. 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.
Sir To. Come, we'll have him in a dark room, and bound. My niece is already in the belief that he is 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 AGUE-CHEEK. Fab. More matter for a May morning.
Sir And. Here's the challenge, read it; I warrant, there's vinegar and pepper in't.
Fab. Is't so saucy?
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 fort.
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,
Sir To. 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 AGUE-CHEEK.
Sir To. If this letter move him not, his legs cannot: I'll give't hiin.
Mar. 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 orchard, like a bum-bailiff: so soon as ever thou seest him, draw; and, as thou drawest, swear horrible; for it comes to pass oft, that a terrible oath, with a swaggering accent sharply twanged off, gives manhood more approbation than ever proof itself would have earned him. Away.
Sir And. Nay, let me alone for swearing. [Erit.
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; 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 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.
Enter OLIVIA and VIOLA. 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, FABIAN, and Maria. 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,