I have sent after him. He says he'll come;
How shall I feast him? what bestow on him?
For youth is bought more oft than begged or borrowed.
I speak too loud.--
Where's Malvolio?--He is sad and civil,
And suits well for a servant with my fortunes;--
Where is Malvolio?
He's coming, madam:
But in very strange manner. He is sure possessed.
I sent for thee upon a sad occasion.
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.'
Why, how dost thou, man? what is the matter with thee?
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.
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 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, 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
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.
'Thou kill'st me like a rogue and a villain.'
Still you keep o' the windy side of the law. Good.
'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.'
If this letter move him not, his legs cannot: I'll give't him.
You may have very fit occasion for't; he is now in some
commerce with my lady, and will by and by depart.
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.
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 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.
I have said too much unto a heart of stone,
And laid mine honour too unchary on it:
There's something in me that reproves my fault;
But such a headstrong potent fault it is
That it but mocks reproof.
With the same 'haviour that your passion bears
Goes on my master's griefs.
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?
Nothing but this, your true love for my master.
How with mine honour may I give him that
Which I have given to you?
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 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.
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.
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.
He is knight, dubbed with unhacked 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.
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, 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.
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.
I Will do so. Signior Fabian, stay you by this gentleman
till my return.
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.
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.
Why, man, he's a very devil; I have not seen such a
virago. 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
Ay, but he will not now be pacified: Fabian can scarce
hold him yonder.
Plague on't; an 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, grey Capilet.
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.
I have his horse [To FABIAN.] to take up the quarrel; I have
persuaded him the youth's a devil.
He is as horribly conceited of him; and pants and looks pale, as
if a bear were at his heels.
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.
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.
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.
I Must obey.--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 amazed;
But be of comfort.
What money, sir?
For the fair kindness you have showed 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 is half my coffer.
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.
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.
Let me speak a little. This youth that you see here
I snatched one half out of the jaws of death,
Relieved him with such sanctity of love,--
And to his image, which methought did promise
Most venerable worth, did I devotion.
What's that to us? The time goes by; away.
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'erflourished by the devil.
The man grows mad; away with him. Come, come, sir.
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!
Come hither, knight; come hither, Fabian; we'll whisper
o'er a couplet or two of most sage saws.
He named 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!