Viola, who was disguised as a young man named Cesario, met the clown and greeted him kindly. She asked whether he lived by his music and his tabor. The clown answered that he did not live by his tabor, but by the Church. Viola asked whether he was a churchman, and the clown explained that he meant only that he lived in a house, and his house stood by the Church. Viola joked that, by that reasoning, one might say the king lived by a beggar if a beggar lived near him, or that the Church stood by the tabor if the tabor stood by the Church. The clown admired how quickly a clever remark could be turned around. Viola said that people who play too nicely with words can soon make them behave badly. The clown wished his sister had had no name, because her name was a word, and playing with that word might make his sister wanton. He said that words had become very dishonest, since they had been disgraced by bonds. Viola asked his reason, and the clown said he could give none without words, and words had grown so false that he was loath to prove reason with them. Viola said she was sure he was a merry fellow who cared for nothing. The clown said he did care for something, but not for Viola. If caring for nothing meant not caring for her, he wished it would make her invisible.

Viola asked whether he was Lady Olivia’s fool. The clown said no, because Lady Olivia had no folly and would keep no fool until she was married. He said fools were as like husbands as pilchers were to herrings, the husbands being the bigger. He said he was not her fool, but her corrupter of words. Viola said she had seen him lately at Count Orsino’s house. The clown said foolery walked about the world like the sun and shone everywhere. He said he would be sorry if the fool were not as often with Viola’s master as with his mistress, and he thought he had seen Viola’s wisdom there. Viola said that if he passed upon her, she would have no more to do with him, and she gave him money for expenses. The clown prayed that Jove, in his next commodity of hair, would send her a beard. Viola said she was almost sick for one, though she would not have it grow on her chin. She asked whether his lady was within. The clown asked whether a pair of legs would not have bred, and Viola answered that they might, if kept together and put to use. The clown said he would play Lord Pandarus of Phrygia and bring a Cressida to this Troilus. Viola said she understood him and that it was well begged. The clown said he hoped the matter was not great, for begging was but a beggar, and Cressida had been a beggar. He said his lady was within and that he would explain to them where Viola came from, but who Viola was and what Viola wanted were out of his sky, or element, though that word was worn out. Then he went away.

Viola said that this fellow was wise enough to play the fool, and that doing that well required a kind of wit. He had to observe the mood of the people he joked with, the quality of persons, and the time. Like a haggard, he had to check at every feather that came before his eye. She said this was a practice as full of labor as a wise man’s art, because folly that he showed wisely was fit, but a wise man’s folly, when it failed, quite tainted his wit.

Sir Toby and Sir Andrew came to Viola. Sir Toby greeted her, and Sir Andrew greeted her in French. Viola answered in French, and Sir Andrew said he hoped she was, and that he was hers. Sir Toby asked whether she would enter the house, because his niece was desirous that she should enter, if her business was with her. Viola said she was bound to his niece and meant that she was the list of her voyage. Sir Toby told her to taste her legs and put them to motion. Viola said her legs understood her better than she understood what he meant by bidding her taste her legs. Sir Toby said he meant to go, to enter. Viola said she would answer him with gate and entrance, but they were prevented, for Olivia came out with a gentlewoman.

Viola greeted Olivia as most excellent accomplished lady and said the heavens rained odours on her. Sir Andrew said that youth was a rare courtier, and he liked the word odours. Viola said her matter had no voice, Lady, but to Olivia’s own most pregnant and vouchsafed ear. Sir Andrew said he would get odours, pregnant, and vouchsafed all three already. Olivia told them to shut the garden door and leave her to her hearing, and she asked Viola for her hand. Viola gave her duty and most humble service. Olivia asked her name, and Viola said Cesario was her servant’s name, fair princess. Olivia said, “My servant, sir? ’Twas never merry world since lowly feigning was called complement.” She said Viola was servant to Count Orsino. Viola said that Orsino was Olivia’s, and his must needs be hers, and that her servant’s servant was her servant, madam. Olivia said that for him, she thought not on him, and for his thoughts, she wished they were blanks rather than filled with her. Viola said she came to whet Olivia’s gentle thoughts on his behalf. Olivia said, by her leave, she had bidden her never speak again of him, but if Viola would undertake another suit, she had rather hear her solicit that than music from the spheres. Viola said, “Dear lady.” Olivia begged leave to speak and said she had sent after Viola, after the last enchantment she had heard, a ring in chase of her. She said she had abused herself, her servant, and, she feared, Viola. She said she must sit under Viola’s hard construction, to force that on her in a shameful cunning which Viola knew none of hers. She asked what Viola might think, and whether Viola had not set her honor at the stake and baited it with all the unmuzzled thoughts that a tyrannous heart can think. She said that to one of Viola’s receiving, enough was shown, and that a cypress, not a bosom, hid her heart. She asked Viola to speak.

Viola said she pitied Olivia. Olivia said that was a degree to love. Viola said it was not a grize, for it was a vulgar proof that very often people pity enemies. Olivia said that then, she thought, it was time to smile again, and she said, “O world, how apt the poor are to be proud?” She said that if one should be a prey, it was much better to fall before the lion than the wolf. The clock struck. Olivia said the clock upbraided her with the waste of time. She told Viola not to be afraid, good youth, and said she would not have her. Yet she said that when wit and youth came to harvest, Viola’s wife was like to reap a proper man, and that there lay her way, due west. Viola said, “Then westward, hoe,” and wished grace and good disposition to attend her ladyship. She asked whether Olivia had nothing for her lord by her. Olivia told her to stay and asked what she thought of her. Viola said that Olivia thought she was not what she was. Olivia said that if she thought so, she thought the same of Viola. Viola said that then she thought right, for she was not what she was. Olivia said she would Viola were as she would have her be. Viola asked whether it would be better, madam, than she was, and said she wished it might, for now she was Olivia’s fool. Olivia said that a great deal of scorn looked beautiful, and that in the contempt and anger of his lip, a murderous guilt showed itself not sooner than love that would seem hid. She said love’s night was noon. She swore by the roses of the spring, by maidhood, honor, truth, and everything, that she loved Viola so that, despite all Viola’s pride, neither wit nor reason could hide her passion. She told Viola not to extort reasons from that clause, for because she wooed, Viola therefore had no cause, but rather to reason thus with reason’s fetter: love sought is good, but given unsought is better.

Viola swore by innocence and by her youth that she had one heart, one bosom, and one truth, and that no woman had it, nor never none should be mistress of it, save herself alone. She said farewell, good madam, and said she would never more deplore her master’s tears to Olivia. Olivia said, “Yet come again,” for perhaps Viola might move that heart which now abhorred to like his love. Then they parted.

Meanwhile, Sir Toby, Sir Andrew, and Fabian were together. Sir Andrew said that no faith, he would not stay a jot longer. Sir Toby asked his reason, dear venom, and Fabian said he must needs yield his reason, Sir Andrew. Sir Andrew said that he had seen Sir Toby’s niece do more favors to the Count’s serving-man than she had ever bestowed upon him. He had seen it in the orchard. Sir Toby asked whether she saw him while she did it, old boy, and told him to say that. Sir Andrew said it was as plain as he saw him now. Fabian said this was a great argument of love in her toward him. Sir Andrew said, “Slight, will you make an ass of me?” Fabian said he would prove it legitimate, sir, upon the oaths of judgment and reason. Sir Toby said they had been grand jury men since before Noah was a sailor. Fabian said that Olivia had shown favor to the youth in Sir Andrew’s sight only to exasperate him, to awake his dormouse valour, to put fire in his heart and brimstone in his liver. He said Sir Andrew should then have accosted her, and with some excellent jests, fire-new from the mint, should have banged the youth into dumbness. This was looked for at his hand, and this was balked. The double gilt of this opportunity he had let time wash off, and he was now sailed into the north of my lady’s opinion, where he would hang like an icicle on a Dutchman’s beard, unless he redeemed it by some laudable attempt, either of valour or policy. Sir Andrew said that if it must be any way, it must be with valour, for policy he hated. He said he had as lief be a Brownist as a politician. Sir Toby said that then he should build his fortunes upon the basis of valour. He told him to challenge the Count’s youth to fight with him, hurt him in eleven places, and said his niece would take note of it. He said there was no love-broker in the world that could more prevail in a man’s commendation with woman than report of valour. Fabian said there was no way but this, Sir Andrew. Sir Andrew asked whether either of them would bear him a challenge to him. Sir Toby told him to write it in a martial hand, be curst and brief. He said it was no matter how witty, so it were eloquent and full of invention. He told him to taunt him with the license of ink, and if he “thoued” him some thrice, it should not be amiss, and as many lies as would lie in his sheet of paper, although the sheet were big enough for the bed of Ware in England, set them down. He said there should be gall enough in his ink, though he wrote with a goose-pen, no matter. Sir Andrew asked where he should find them, and Sir Toby said they would call him at the cubiculo. Sir Andrew went away.

Fabian said this was a dear manakin to Sir Toby. Sir Toby said he had been dear to him, lad, some two thousand strong, or so. Fabian said they should have a rare letter from him, but he would not deliver it. Sir Toby said never trust him then, and by all means stir on the youth to an answer. He thought oxen and wain-ropes could not hale them together. For Andrew, if he were opened and anyone found so much blood in his liver as would clog the foot of a flea, he would eat the rest of the anatomy. Fabian said that his opposite, the youth, bore in his visage no great presage of cruelty.

Maria came in. Sir Toby said, “Look where the youngest wren of mine comes.” Maria said that if they desired the spleen and would laugh themselves into stitches, they should follow her. She said yond gull Malvolio was turned heathen, a very renegado, for there was no Christian that meant to be saved by believing rightly could ever believe such impossible passages of grossness. She said he was in yellow stockings. Sir Toby asked whether he was cross-gartered. Maria said most villanously, like a pedant that kept a school in the church. She said she had dogged him like his murderer. He did obey every point of the letter that she had dropped to betray him. He did smile his face into more lines than were in the new map, with the augmentation of the Indies. She said they had not seen such a thing as it was, and she could hardly forbear hurling things at him. She knew her lady would strike him, and if she did, he would smile and take it for a great favor. Sir Toby told her to bring them where he was, and they all went away.

At another part of the town, Sebastian and Antonio were together. Sebastian said he would not by his will have troubled Antonio, but since Antonio made his pleasure of his pains, he would no further chide him. Antonio said he could not stay behind him. His desire, more sharp than filed steel, had spurred him forth, and not all love to see him, though so much as might have drawn one to a longer voyage, but jealousy what might befall his travel, being skilless in these parts, which to a stranger, unguided and unfriended, often proved rough and unhospitable. His willing love, the rather by these arguments of fear, had set forth in his pursuit. Sebastian called him kind Antonio and said he could make no other answer but thanks, and thanks, and ever oft good turns were shuffled off with such uncurrent pay. He said that were his worth as his conscience firm, Antonio should find better dealing. He asked what was to do, and whether they should go see the relics of that town. Antonio said tomorrow, sir, and that it was best first to go see his lodging. Sebastian said he was not weary, and it was long to night, and he prayed Antonio to let them satisfy their eyes with the memorials and the things of fame that did renown that city. Antonio asked him to pardon him, for he did not without danger walk those streets. Once in a sea-fight against the Count’s gallies, he had done some service of such note indeed that, were he taken there, it would scarce be answered. Sebastian said, “Belike you slew great number of his people.” Antonio said the offence was not of such a bloody nature, albeit the quality of the time and quarrel might well have given them bloody argument. It might have since been answered in repaying what they took from them, which for traffic’s sake most of their city did. Only himself stood out, for which, if he were lapsed in that place, he should pay dear. Sebastian told him not to walk too open. Antonio said it did not fit him, and gave him his purse. He said that in the south suburbs, at the Elephant, it was best to lodge. He would bespeak their diet while Sebastian beguiled the time and fed his knowledge with viewing of the town, and there Sebastian should have him. Sebastian asked why he gave him his purse. Antonio said haply his eye might light upon some toy he had desire to purchase, and his store, he thought, was not for idle markets, sir. Sebastian said he would be his purse-bearer and leave him for an hour. Antonio said, “To the Elephant.” Sebastian said he did remember. Then they parted.

Back at Olivia’s house, Olivia said she had sent after him, and he said he would come. She asked how she should feast him and what she should bestow of him, for youth was bought more oft than begged or borrowed. She said she spoke too loud, and asked where Malvolio was. She said he was sad and civil, and suited well for a servant with her fortunes. She asked where Malvolio was. Maria said he was coming, madam, but in very strange manner, and she was sure he was possessed, madam. Olivia asked why, what was the matter, and whether he raved. Maria said no, madam, he did nothing but smile, and her ladyship were best to have some guard about her, if he came, for sure the man was tainted in his wits. Olivia told her to go call him hither. She said she was as mad as he, if sad and merry madness equal were.

Malvolio came in and said, “Sweet lady, ho, ho.” Olivia asked whether he smiled, for she had sent for him upon a sad occasion. Malvolio said, “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 asked how he did, man, and what was the matter with him. Malvolio said he was not black in his mind, though yellow in his legs. He said it did come to his hands, and commands should be executed. He said he thought they did know the sweet Roman hand. Olivia asked whether he would go to bed, Malvolio. Malvolio said, “To bed? I, sweet heart, and I’ll come to thee.” Olivia said God comfort him, and asked why he smiled so and kissed his hand so oft. Maria asked how he did, Malvolio. Malvolio said, “At your request. Yes, nightingales answer daws.” Maria asked why he appeared with that ridiculous boldness before her lady. Malvolio said, “Be not afraid of greatness. ’Twas well writ.” Olivia asked what he meant by that, Malvolio. Malvolio said, “Some are born great.” Olivia said, “Ha?” Malvolio said, “Some achieve greatness.” Olivia asked what he said. Malvolio said, “And some have greatness thrust upon them.” Olivia said, “Heaven restore thee.” Malvolio said, “Remember who commended thy yellow stockings.” Olivia asked, “Thy yellow stockings?” Malvolio said, “And wished to see thee cross-gartered.” Olivia asked, “Cross-gartered?” Malvolio said, “Go too, thou art made, if thou desirest to be so.” Olivia asked, “Am I made?” Malvolio said, “If not, let me see thee a servant still.” Olivia said, “Why, this is very Midsummer madness.”

A servant came and said, madam, the young gentleman of Count Orsino’s was returned, and he could hardly entreat him back. He said he attended her ladyship’s pleasure. Olivia said she would come to him. She told Maria to let that fellow be looked to, and asked where her cousin Toby was. She said let some of her people have a special care of him, for she would not have him miscarry for the half of her dowry. Then she went away.

Malvolio said, “Oh ho, do you come near me now? No worse man than Sir Toby to look to me.” He said this concurred directly with the letter, and that she sent him on purpose, that he might appear stubborn to him, for she incited him to that in the letter. He said, “Cast thy humble slough,” says she. He said, “Be opposite with a kinsman, surly with servants, let thy tongue linger with arguments of state, put thyself into the trick of singularity,” and so forth. He said she set down the manner how, as a sad face, a reverend carriage, a slow tongue, in the habit of some sir of note. He said he had limed her, but it was Jove’s doing, and Jove make him thankful. He said that when she went away now, she said, “Let this fellow be looked to.” He said, “Fellow? Not Malvolio, nor after my degree, but fellow.” He said why everything adhered together, that no dram of a scruple, no scruple of a scruple, no obstacle, no incredulous or unsafe circumstance could come between him and the full prospect of his hopes. He said, “Well, Jove, not I, is the doer of this, and he is to be thanked.”

Sir Toby, Fabian, and Maria came in. Sir Toby asked which way he was, in the name of sanctity. He said if all the devils of hell were drawn in little, and Legion himself possessed him, yet he would speak to him. Fabian said here he was, here he was, and asked how it was with him, sir, and how it was with him, man. Malvolio said, “Go off, I discard you. Let me enjoy my private. Go off.” Maria said, “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 said, “Ah ha, does she so?” Sir Toby said, “Go too, go too. 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 asked whether they knew what they said. Maria said, “La you, and you speak ill of the devil, how he takes it at heart. Pray God he be not bewitched.” Fabian said, “Carry his water to the wise woman.” Maria said, “Marry, and it shall be done tomorrow morning, if I live. My lady would not lose him for more than I’ll say.” Malvolio asked how now, mistress. Maria said, “Oh Lord.” Sir Toby said, “Prithee hold thy peace. This is not the way. Do you not see you move him? Let me alone with him.” Fabian said, “No way but gentleness. Gently, gently. The fiend is rough, and will not be roughly used.” Sir Toby said, “Why, how now, my bawcock? How dost thou, chuck?” Malvolio said, “Sir.” Sir Toby said, “I biddy, come with me. What man, ’tis not for gravity to play at cherry-pit with Satan. Hang him, foul collier.” Maria said, “Get him to say his prayers, good Sir Toby, get him to pray.” Malvolio said, “My prayers, minx.” Maria said, “No, I warrant you, he will not hear of godliness.” Malvolio said, “Go hang yourselves all. You are idle, shallow things. I am not of your element. You shall know more hereafter.” Then he went away.

Sir Toby asked, “Is’t possible?” Fabian said that if this were played upon a stage now, he could condemn it as an improbable fiction. Sir Toby said his very genius had taken the infection of the device, man. Maria said, “Nay, pursue him now, lest the device take air and taint.” Fabian said, “Why, we shall make him mad indeed.” Maria said, “The house will be the quieter.” Sir Toby said, “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.”

Sir Andrew came in. Fabian said, “More matter for a May morning.” Sir Andrew said, “Here’s the challenge. Read it. I warrant there’s vinegar and pepper in’t.” Fabian asked whether it was so saucy. Sir Andrew said, “Is’t? I warrant him. Do but read.” Sir Toby said, “Give me.” He read: “Youth, whatsoever thou art, thou art but a scurvy fellow.” Fabian said, “Good, and valiant.” Sir Toby read: “Wonder not, nor admire not in thy mind why I do call thee so, for I will show thee no reason for’t.” Fabian said, “A good note, that keeps you from the blow of the law.” Sir Toby read: “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 said, “Very brief, and to exceeding good senseless.” Sir Toby read: “I will waylay thee going home, where if it be thy chance to kill me.” Fabian said, “Good.” Sir Toby read: “Thou kill’st me like a rogue and a villain.” Fabian said, “Still you keep o’ the windy side of the law. Good.” Sir Toby read: “Farewell, 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.” Sir Toby said that if this letter moved him not, his legs could not, and he would give it him. Maria said they might have very fit occasion for it, for he was now in some commerce with her lady, and would by and by depart. Sir Toby told Sir Andrew to go and scout him at the corner of the orchard like a bum-baily. He said as soon as ever he saw him, draw, and as he drew, swear horrible, for it came to pass oft that a terrible oath, with a swaggering accent sharply twanged off, gave manhood more approbation than ever proof itself would have earned him. He told him away. Sir Andrew said, “Nay, let me alone for swearing,” and went away.

Sir Toby said that now he would not deliver his letter, for the behavior of the young gentleman gave him out to be of good capacity and breeding, and his employment between his lord and his niece confirmed no less. Therefore, this letter, being so excellently ignorant, would breed no terror in the youth. He would find it came from a clod-pole. But, sir, he said, he would deliver his challenge by word of mouth, set upon Aguecheek a notable report of valour, and drive the gentleman, as he knew his youth would aptly receive it, into a most hideous opinion of his rage, skill, fury, and impetuosity. This would so fright them both that they would kill one another by the look, like cockatrices.

Olivia and Viola came in. Fabian said here he came with Sir Toby’s niece, and told them to give them way till he took leave, and presently after him. Sir Toby said he would meditate the while upon some horrid message for a challenge. Olivia said she had said too much unto a heart of stone, and laid her honor too unchary on it. She said there was something in her that reproved her fault, but such a headstrong potent fault it was that it but mocked reproof. Viola said that with the same humour that her passion bore, went on her master’s griefs. Olivia gave her a jewel and said she should wear it for her, for it was her picture. She told her not to refuse it, for it had no tongue to vex her, and she besought her to come again tomorrow. She asked what Viola should ask of her that she would deny, that honour saved might upon asking give. Viola said nothing but this: her true love for her master. Olivia asked how with her honour she might give him that which she had given to Viola. Viola said she would acquit her. Olivia said, “Well, come again tomorrow. Fare thee well. A fiend like thee might bear my soul to hell.”

Sir Toby and Fabian came in. Sir Toby said, “Gentleman, God save thee.” Viola said, “And you, sir.” Sir Toby said that that defence she had, she should betake to it. He said of what nature the wrongs were that she had done him, he knew not, but her intercepter, full of despite, bloody as the hunter, attended her at the orchard end. He told her to dismount her tuck, be yare in her preparation, for her assailant was quick, skilful, and deadly. Viola said he mistook her, she was sure, and no man had any quarrel to her. She said her remembrance was very free and clear from any image of offence done to any man. Sir Toby said she would find it otherwise, he assured her, and therefore, if she held her life at any price, she should betake her to her guard, for her opposite had in him what youth, strength, skill, and wrath could furnish man withal. Viola asked, “I pray you, sir, what is he?” Sir Toby said he was a knight dubbed with unhatched rapier, and on carpet consideration, but he was a devil in private brawl. He said souls and bodies had he divorced three, and his incensement at that moment was so implacable that satisfaction could be none but by pangs of death and sepulchre. He said “Hob, nob” was his word: give it or take it. Viola said she would return again into the house and desire some conduct of the lady. She said she was no fighter, and she had heard of some kind of men that put quarrels purposely on others, to taste their valour. She said belike this was a man of that quirk. Sir Toby said, “Sir, no. His indignation derives itself out of a very computent 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 said this was as uncivil as strange. She besought him to do her this courteous office, as to know of the knight what her offence to him was. She said it was something of her negligence, nothing of her purpose. Sir Toby said he would do so, and told Signior Fabian to stay by that gentleman till his return. Then Sir Toby went away.

Viola asked Fabian whether he knew of this matter. Fabian said he knew the knight was incensed against her, even to a mortal arbitrement, but nothing of the circumstance more. Viola asked, “I beseech you, what manner of man is he?” Fabian said there was nothing of that wonderful promise to read him by his form, as she was like to find him in the proof of his valour. He said he was indeed, sir, the most skilful, bloody, and fatal opposite that she could possibly have found in any part of Illyria. He asked whether she would walk towards him, and said he would make her peace with him, if he could. Viola said she should be much bound to him for it, for she was one that had rather go with sir priest than sir knight. She said she cared not who knew so much of her mettle. Then they went away.

Sir Toby and Sir Andrew came back. Sir Toby said, “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.” Sir Andrew said, “Pox on’t, I’ll not meddle with him.” Sir Toby said, “I, but he will not now be pacified. Fabian can scarce hold him yonder.” Sir Andrew said, “Plague on’t, and I thought he had been valiant, and so cunning in fence, I’d have seen him damned ere I’d have challenged him. Let him let the matter slip, and I’ll give him my horse, gray Capilet.” Sir Toby said he would make the motion, and told him to stand there and make a good show on’t. He said this should end without the perdition of souls, but marry, he would ride his horse as well as he rode him. Fabian and Viola came in. Sir Toby said he had his horse to take up the quarrel, and he had persuaded him the youth was a devil. Fabian said he was as horribly conceited of him, and panted and looked pale, as if a bear were at his heels. Sir Toby said there was no remedy, sir, he would fight with her for his oath’s sake. He said he had better bethought him of his quarrel, and he found that now scarce to be worth talking of. He told her to draw for the supportance of his vow, for he protested he would not hurt her. Viola said, “Pray God defend me. A little thing would make me tell them how much I lack of a man.” Fabian said, “Give ground if you see him furious.” Sir Toby said, “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 promised me, as he is a gentleman and a soldier, he will not hurt you. Come on, to’t.” Sir Andrew said, “Pray God he keep his oath.”

Antonio came in. Viola said she did assure them it was against her will. Antonio told them to put up their sword, and said if that young gentleman had done offence, he took the fault on him. He said if they offended him, he for him defied them. Sir Toby asked, “You, sir? Why, what are you?” Antonio said, “One, sir, that for his love dares yet do more than you have heard him brag to you he will.” Sir Toby said, “Nay, if you be an undertaker, I am for you.”

Officers came in. Fabian said, “O good Sir Toby, hold. Here come the officers.” Sir Toby said he would be with him anon. Viola asked Antonio to put his sword up, if he pleased. Sir Andrew said, “Marry, will I, sir. And for that I promised you, I’ll be as good as my word. He will bear you easily, and rains well.” The first officer said, “This is the man. Do thy office.” The second officer said, “Antonio, I arrest thee at the suit of Count Orsino.” Antonio said they did mistake him, sir. The first officer said no, sir, no jot, and that he knew his favour well, though now he had no sea-cap on his head. He told them to take him away, for he knew he knew him well. Antonio said he must obey. He said this came with seeking him, but there was no remedy, he should answer it. He asked what Viola would do, and said now his necessity made him ask her for his purse. He said it grieved him much more for what he could not do for her than what befell himself. He said she stood amazed, but should be of comfort. The second officer said, “Come, sir, away.” Antonio said he must entreat of her some of that money. Viola asked what money, sir. She said for the fair kindness he had shown her there, and part being prompted by his present trouble, out of her lean and low ability she would lend him something. She said her having was not much, and she would make division of her present with him. She gave him half her coffer. Antonio asked whether she would deny him now, and whether it was possible that his deserts to her could lack persuasion. He told her not to tempt his misery, lest that it make him so unsound a man as to upbraid her with those kindnesses that he had done for her. Viola said she knew of none, nor knew him by voice, or any feature. She said she hated ingratitude more in a man than lying, vainness, babbling drunkenness, or any taint of vice whose strong corruption inhabited their frail blood. Antonio said, “O heavens themselves.” The second officer said, “Come, sir, I pray you go.” Antonio said let him speak a little. He said this youth that they saw there, he had snatched one half out of the jaws of death, relieved him with such sanctity of love, and to his image, which he thought did promise most venerable worth, he had done devotion. The first officer said, “What’s that to us? The time goes by. Away.” Antonio said, “But oh, 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 called deformed, but the unkind. Virtue is beauty, but the beauteous evil are empty trunks, over-flourished by the devil.” The first officer said the man grew mad, and told them to away with him. He said, “Come, come, sir.” Antonio said, “Lead me on.” Then he was taken away.

Viola said she thought his words did from such passion fly that he believed himself, so did not she. She said, “Prove true imagination, oh prove true, that I, dear brother, be now ta’en for you.” Sir Toby called Sir Andrew and Fabian to come hither, and said they would whisper o’er a couplet or two of most sage saws. Viola said he had named Sebastian. She said she knew her brother yet living in her glass. She said even such, and so in favour was her brother, and he went still in this fashion, colour, ornament, for her imitation. She said, “O, if it prove, tempests are kind, and salt waves fresh in love.” Sir Toby said Viola was a very dishonest paltry boy, and more a coward than a hare. He said her dishonesty appeared in leaving her friend there in necessity, and denying him, and for her cowardship they should ask Fabian. Fabian said she was a coward, a most devout coward, religious in it. Sir Andrew said, “Slid, I’ll after him again, and beat him.” Sir Toby said, “Do, cuff him soundly, but never draw thy sword.” Sir Andrew said, “And I do not.” Fabian said, “Come, let’s see the event.” Sir Toby said he dared lay any money it would be nothing yet.