Scene 1 - Outside the illyrian walls

Antonio, whose voice is permeated with a tone of doom, and Sebastian, who is restless yet respectful of his savior, begin the scene from strolling onto stage right to centerstage, but Sebastian meanders a bit:

ANTONIO

Will you stay no longer?

(beat, darkly, a gloomy statement rather than a question)

Nor will you not that I go with you.

SEBASTIAN

(walks away, meanders to stage left, but avoids straying near the gates)

By your patience, no: my stars shine darkly over me; the malignancies of my fate, might perhaps distemper yours; therefore I shall crave of you your leave that I may bear my evils alone.

(pause on stage left, returns centerstage, facing Antonio)

It were a bad recompense for your love, to lay any of them on you.

ANTONIO

Let me yet know of you -- whither you are bound?

SEBASTIAN

No, sooth, sir -- my determinate voyage is mere extravagancy.

(walks away, meanders to SL)

But I perceive in you so excellent a touch of modesty, that you will not extort from me, what I am willing to keep in; therefore, it charges me in manners, the rather to express myself.

(Distance away from Antonio, back to Antonio, Centerstage)

You must know of me then Antonio, my name is Sebastian, which I called Rodorigo. My father was that Sebastian of Messanine, whom I know you have heard of. He left behind him, myself and a sister, both born in an hour: if the Heavens had been pleased, would we had so ended.

(meanders away)

But you, sir, altered that, for some hours before you took me from the breach of the sea, was my sister drowned.

ANTONIO

Alas the day!

Antonio approaches and embraces Sebastian.

SEBASTIAN

A Lady, sir, though it was said she much resembled me, was yet of many accounted beautiful.

(meanders away from Antonio)

But though I could not with estimable wonder overfar believe that, yet thus far I will boldly publish her: she bore a mind that envy could not but call fair. She is drown'd already, sir, with salt water, though I seem to drown her remembrance again with more.

ANTONIO

Pardon me, sir, your bad entertainment.

SEBASTIAN

(approaches Antonio)

O good Antonio, forgive me your trouble.

ANTONIO

If you will not murder me for my love, let me be your servant.

SEBASTIAN

If you will not undo what you have done, that is, kill him whom you have recovered, desire it not.

(meanders away, uneasily)

Fare ye well at once, my bosom is full of kindness, and I am yet so near the manners of my mother, that upon the least occasion more, mine eyes will tell tales of me: I am bound to the Count Orsino's Court, farewell.

Exit Sebastian via Gates to Illyria.

ANTONIO

(facing Wall)

The gentleness of all the gods go with thee.

(turn to audience)

I have many enemies in Orsino's Court, else would I very shortly see thee there.

antonio

But come what may, I do adore thee so, That danger shall seem sport, and I will go.

Exit Antonio via Gates to Illyria.

Scene 2 - Olivia's Garden

MALVOLIO

Were you not e'en now, with the Countesse Olivia?

VIOLA

Even now, sir, on a moderate pace, I have since arriv'd but hither.

MALVOLIO

She returns this Ring to you, sir.

(thrusts ring at Viola, formal tone now heavy with arrogant repugnance)

You might have saved me my pains, to have taken it away yourself. She adds, moreover, that you should put your Lord into a desperate assurance; she will none of him. And one thing more, that you be never so hardly to come again in his affairs, unless it be to report your Lord's taking of this: receive it so.

VIOLA

She took the Ring of me; I'll none of it.

MALVOLIO

Come, sir, you peevishly threw it to her; and her will is, it should be so return'd.

(throws ring on ground)

If it be worth stooping for, there it lies, in your eye: if not, be it his that finds it.

Exit Malvolio.

VIOLA

I left no Ring with her: what means this Lady?

viola

Fortune forbid my outside have not charm'd her:
She made good view of me, indeed so much, / That methought her eyes had lost her tongue, / For she did speak in starts distractedly.

viola

She loves me sure, the cunning of her passion / Invites me in this churlish messenger: / None of my Lord's Ring? Why he sent her none.

viola

I am the man, if it be so, as tis,
Poor Lady, she were better love a dream!

viola

Disguise, I feel thou art a wickedness, / Wherein the pregnant enemy does much.
How easy it is, for the proper false / In women's waxen hearts to set their forms: /
Alas, our frailty is the cause, not we, / For such as we are made, if such we be!

viola

How will this fadge? My master loves her dearly, / And I (poor monster) fond as much on him: /
And she (mistaken) seems to dote on me: / What will become of this? As I am man, / My state is desperate for my master's love: / As I am woman (now alas the day) / What thriftless sighs shall poor Olivia breathe?

viola

O time, thou must untangle this, not I, / It is too hard a knot for me t'untie.

Scene 3 - olivia's pantry

toby

Approach, Sir Andrew: not to be a bedded after midnight is to be up betimes, and Deliculo surgere, thou know'st.

andrew

Nay by my troth I know not: but I know, to be up late, is to be up late.

toby

A false conclusion: I hate it as an unfill'd can.

TOBY whizzes into a bucket, continues philosophizing while whizzing:

TOBY

To be up after midnight, and to go to bed then is early: so that to go to bed after midnight, is to go to bed betimes. Does not our lives consist of the four Elements?

ANDREW

Faith so they say, but I think it rather consists of eating and drinking.

Toby zips up his fly, approaches Andrew, slaps him on the back.

toby

Th'art a scholar; let us therefore eat and drink. Marian, I say, a stoop of wine.

Enter Feste.

ANDREW

Here comes the fool y'faith.

FESTE

How now, my harts -- did you never see the Picture of we three?

TOBY

Welcome ass, now let's have a catch.

ANDREW

By my troth, the fool has an excellent breast. I had rather than forty shillings I had such a leg, and so sweet a breath to sing, as the fool has. In sooth, thou was in very gracious fooling last night, when thou spok'st of Pigrogromitus, of the Vapians passing the Equinoxial of Queubus: 'twas very good y'faith. I sent thee sixpence for thy Lemon, hadst it?

FESTE

I did impeticos thy gratillity: for Malvolio's nose is no whip-stock. My Lady has a white hand, and the Mermidons are no bottle-ale houses.

ANDREW

Excellent: why this is the best fooling, when all is done. Now, a song.

TOBY

(slaps Feste on back)

Come on, there is sixpence for you. let's have a song.

ANDREW

There's a sixpence of me too: if one knight give a --

FESTE

Would you have a love-song, or a song of good life?

toby

A love song, a love song.

ANDREW

Aye, aye. I care not for good life.

FESTE

(sings)

O Mistress mine where are you roaming?
O stay and hear, your true love's coming,
That can sing both high and low.
Trip no further pretty sweeting.
Journeys end in lovers meeting,
Every wise man's son doth know.

ANDREW

Excellent good, i'faith.

toby

Good, good.

FESTE

(sings)

What is love, 'tis not hereafter,
Present mirth, hath present laughter:
What's to come, is still unsure.
In delay there lies no plenty,
Then come kiss me sweet and twenty:
Youth's a stuff will not endure.

ANDrew

A mellifluous voice, as I AM TRUE KNIGHT!

Andrew collapses on the floor, drunk. Toby takes a swig of alcohol.

toby

A contagious breath.

Toby sets down the bottle.

ANDREW

Very sweet, and contagious i'faith.

Andrew crawls over to the bottle.

TOBY

To hear by the nose, it is dulcet in contagion. But shall we make the welkin sky dance indeed? Shall we rouse the Nightowl in a Catch, that will draw three fouls out of one Weaver? Shall we do that?

Toby throws the apple.

ANDREW

And you love me, let's do't. I am dogged at a Catch.

Andrew crawls over to pick up the apple.

FESTE

By a lady, sir, and some dogs will catch well.

Andrew crawls over and drops the apple in front of Feste.

ANDREW

Most certain: let our Catch be, Thou Knave.

Feste picks up the apple, puts it at the end of a long broadsword that just happened to be lying on the table, then knights Andrew.

FESTE

Hold thy peace, thou Knave knight. I shall be constrain'd in't, to call thee knave, Knight.

Andrew rises.

ANDREW

'Tis not the first time I have constrained one to call me knave. Begin fool: it  begins, Hold thy peace.

FESTE

I shall never begin if I hold my peace.

andrew

Good i'faith: come, begin.

Feste sings a Catch.

Enter Maria down the stairs.

MARIA

What a catterwalling do you keep here? If my Lady have not call'd up her Steward Malvolio, and bid him turn you out of doors, never trust me.

toby

My Lady's a Catalan, we are politicians, Malvolio's a Pega-ramsie, and Three Merry men be we. Am not I consanguinious? Am I not of her blood: tilly vally. Lady, There dwelt a man in Babylon, Lady, Lady.

feste

Beshrew me, the knight's in admirable fooling.

ANDREW

Aye, he do's well enough if he be dispos'd, and so do I too: he does it with a better grace, but I do it more natural.

toby

O the twelfth day of December.

MARIA

For the love o'God, peace.

Enter Malvolio down the stairs.

MALVOLIO

My masters, are you mad? Or what are you? Have you no wit, manners, nor honesty, but to gabble like Tinkers at this time of night?

Andrew saunters over, collapses, drunk. Toby throws an apple at Malvolio.

malvolio

Do ye make an Alehouse of my Lady's house, that ye squeak out your Coziers' Catches without any mitigation or remorse of voice? Is there no respect of place, persons, nor time in you?

TOBY

We did keep time, sir, in our Catches. Sneck up!

MALVOLIO

Sir Toby, I must be round with you. My Lady bade me tell you, that though she harbors you as her kinsman, she's nothing ally'd to your disorders. If you can separate your self and your misdemeanors, you are welcome to the house: if not, and it would please you to take leave of her, she is very willing to bid you farewell.

toby

(sings)

Farewell, dear heart, since I must needs be gone.

maria

Nay, good Sir Toby.

FESTE

(sing)

His eyes do shew his days are almost done.

MALVOLIO

Is't even so?

toby

(sing)

But I will never die.

FESTE

Sir Toby there you lie.

MALVOLIO

This is much credit to you.

TOBY

Shall I bid him go.

FESTE

What and if you do?

TOBY

Shall I bid him go, and spare not?

Feste

O no, no, no, no, you dare not.

TOBY

Out o'tune, sir, ye lie: art any more than a Stewart? Dost thou think because thou art virtuous, there shall be no more Cakes and Ale?

Feste

Yes, by Saint Anne, and Ginger shall be hot i'the mouth too.

toby

Th'art i'th right. Go sir, rub your Chain with crumbs. A stoop of wine, Maria.

Toby holds goblet up to Maria; Malvolio follows gaze.

MALVOLIO

Mistress Mary, if you priz'd my Lady's favor at anything more than contempt, you would not give means for this hand.

Exit Malvolio.

MARIA

Go shake your ears!

ANDREW

T'were as good a deed as to drink when a man's a hungry, to challenge him the field, and then to break promise with him, and make a fool of him.

TOBY

Do it knight. I'll write thee a Challenge, or I'll deliver thy indignation to him by word of mouth.

MARIA

Sweet Sir Toby, be patient for tonight: Since the youth of the Count's was today with my Lady, she is much out of quiet. For Monsieur Malvolio, let me alone with him: If I do not gull him into a nayword, and make him a common recreation, do not think I have written enough to lye straight in my bed. I know I can do it.

TOBY

Possess us, possess us, tell us something of him.

MARIA

Marry sir, sometimes he is a kind of Puritan.

andrew

O, if I thought that, I'd beat him like a dog.

TOBY

What for being a Puritan, thy exquisite reason, dear knight.

ANDREW

I have no exquisite reason for't, but I have reason good enough.

MARIA

The devil's a Puritan that he is, or anything constantly but a time-pleaser, an affection'd Ass, that cons state without book and utters it by great swarths. The best persuaded of himself, so crammed (as he thinks) with excellencies, that it is his grounds of faith, that all look on him, love him: and on that vice in him, will my revenge find notable cause to work.

TOBy

What wilt thou do?

MAria

I will drop in his way some obscure Epistles of love, wherein by the colour of his beard, the shape of his legs, the manner of his gait, the expressure of his eye, forehead, and complexion, he shall find himself most feelingly personated. I can write very like my Lady, your niece -- on a forgotten matter we can hardly make distinction of our hands.

TOBY

Excellent, I smell a device.

ANDREW

I hav't in my nose too.

toby

He shall think by the Letters that thou wilt drop that they come from my Niece, and that she's in love with him.

MARIA

My purpose is indeed a horse of that colour.

andrew

And your horse now would make him an Ass.

MARIA

Ass, I doubt not.

ANDREW

O t'will be admirable.

maria

Sport royal I warrant you: I know my Physic will work with him, I will plant you two, and let the Fool make a third, where he shall find the Letter: obscure his construction of it: For this night to bed, and dream on the event: Farewell.

TOBY

Good night, Penthesilea.

andrew

Before me, she's a good wench.

TOBY

She's a beagle true bred, and one that adores me: what o'that.

ANDREW

I was ador'd once too.

TOBY

Let's to bed, knight: Thou hadst need send for more money.

ANDREW

If I cannot recover your Niece, I am foul way out.

TOBY

Send for money knight, if thou hast her not i'th end, call me Cut.

ANDREW

If I do not, never trust me, take it how you will.

toby

Come, come, I'll go burn some Sack, 'tis too late to go to bed now: Come knight, come knight.

Exeunt into the night.

Scene 4 - Orsino's court

ORSINO

Give me some Musick! Now good morrow friends.

ORSINO

(turns to Cesario)

Now good Cesario, but that piece of song, / That old and Antique song we heard last night; / Methought it did release my passion much, / More than light airs, and recollected terms / Of these most brisk and giddy-paced times. / Come, but one verse.

CURIO

He is not here (to please your Lordship) that should sing it?

ORSINO

Who was it?

CURIO

Feste, the jester, my Lord, a fool that the Lady Olivia's Father took much delight in. He is about the house.

ORSINO

Seek him out, and play the tune the while.

Curio leaves, seeking Feste. Music plays.

ORSINO

Come hither Boy, if ever thou shalt love / In the sweet pangs of it, remember me: / For such as I am, all true Lovers are, / Unstaid and skittish in all motions else, /
Save in the constant image of the creature / That is belov'd. How does thou like this tune?

VIOLA

It gives a very echo to the feat /
Where love is thrown.

ORSINO

(immediately)

          Thou dost speak masterly,
My life upon't, young though thou art, thine eye / Hath stay'd upon some favour that it loves:
Hath it not boy?

VIOLA

(immediately)

         A little, by your favour.

ORSINO

What kind of woman is't?

VIOLA

(immediately)

         Of your complexion.

ORSINO

She is not worth thee then. What years i'faith?

VIOLA

(pauses, as if reluctant to give this much info)

About your years, my Lord.

ORSINO

Too old by heavens: Let still the woman take / An elder than herself, so wears she to him; / So sways the level in her husband's heart: /
For, boy, however we do praise ourselves, / Our fancies are more giddy and unfirm, / More longing, wavering, sooner lost and worn, /
Than women's are.

VIOLA

(immediately)

          I think it well, my Lord.

ORSINO

Then let thy Love by younger than thyself, / Or thy affection cannot hold the bent: / For women are as Roses, whose fair flower / Being once displayed, doth fall that very hour.

VIOLA

And so they are: alas, that they are so: / To die, even when they to perfection grow.

Enter Curio & Feste.

orsino

O fellow come, the song we had last night: / Make it Cesario, it is old and plain; / The Spinsters and the Knitters in the Sun, / And the free maids that weave their thread with bones, / Do use to chant it: it is silly sooth, / And dallies with the innocence of love, / Like the old age.

feste

Are you ready, Sir?

ORSINO

I prithee sing.

FESTE

Come away, come away, death,
And in sad cypress, let me be laid.
Fie away, fie away, breath,
I am slain by a fair cruel maid:
My shrowd of white, stuck all with yew, O prepare it.
My part of death no one so true did share it.

Not a flower, not a flower sweet
On my black coffin, let there be strewn:
Not a friend, not a friend greet
My poor corpses, where my bones shall be thrown:
A thousand thousand sighs to save, lay me where
Sad true lover never find my grave, to weep there.

ORSINO

That's for thy pains.

feste

No pains, sir, I take pleasure in singing, sir.

ORSINO

I'll pay thy pleasure then.

FESTE

Truly, sir, and pleasure will be paid one time, or another.

orsino

Give me now leave, to leave thee.

FESTE

Now the melancholy God protect thee, and the Tailor make thy doublet of changeable Taffeta, for thy mind is very Opal. I would have men of luck constancy put to Sea, that their business might be everything, and their intent everywhere,; for that's it, that always makes a good voyage of nothing. Farewell.

Exit Feste.

ORSINO

Let all the rest give place:

Exeunt all but Orsino and Viola.

orsino

           Once more, Cesario,
Get thee to yond same sovereign cruelty: / Tell her my love more noble than the world / Prizes not quantity of dirty lands, / The parts that fortune hath bestow'd upon her: / Tell her I hold as giddily as Fortune: / But 'tis that miracle, and Queen of Gems / That nature pranks her in, attracts my soul.

viola

But, if she cannot love you sir.

ORSINO

It cannot be so answer'd.

VIOLA

              Sooth but you must.
Say that some Lady, as perhaps there is, / Hath for your love as great a pang of heart / As you have for Olivia: you cannot love her --/
You tell her so -- Must she not then be answer'd?

ORSINO

(pauses, contemplating)

        There is no woman's sides.
Can bide the beating of so strong a passion, / As love doth give my heart: no woman's heart / So big, to hold so much, they lack retention. / Alas, their love may be call'd appetite, / No motion of the Liver, but the Pallate, / That suffer surfeit, cloyment, and revolt, / But mine is all as hungry as the Sea, / And can digest as much, make no compare / Between that love a woman can bear me, /
And that I owe Olivia.

VIOLA

(immediately)

                  Aye, but I know.

ORSINO

(beat)

               What dost thou know?

VIOLA

Too well that love women to men may owe: / In faith they are as true of heart, as we. / My Father had a daughter lov'd a man / As it might be perhaps, were I a woman /
I should your Lordship.

ORSINO

(immediately)

            And what's her history?

VIOLA

A blank, my Lord: she never told her love, / But let concealment like a worm i'th bud / Feed on her damask cheek: she pin'd in thought, / And with a green and yellow melancholy, / She sate late Patience on a Monument, / Smiling at grief. Was not this love indeed?
We men may say more, swear more, but indeed / Our shews are more than will: for still we prove /
Much in our vows, but little in our love.

ORSINO

But died thy sister of her love, my Boy?

VIOla

I am all the daughters of my Father's house, / And all the brothers too; and yet I know not. /
Sir, shall I to this Lady?

ORSINO

(immediately)

          Aye, that's the Theme,
To her in haste: give her this Jewell: say, / My love can give no place, bid no denay.

Scene 5 - OLIVIA'S GARDEN

Toby and Fabian amble down a path in Olivia's garden, followed by a trailing, obviously drunk Andrew.

TOBY

Come thy ways, Signior Fabian.

FABIAN

Nah, I'll come: if I lose a scruple of this sport, let me be boil'd to death with Melancholy.

toby

Wouldst thou not be glad to have the niggardly Rascally sheep-biter, come by some notable shame?

Toby and Fabian arrive at a small clearing, spacy enough for bear-baiting.

FABIAN

I would exult man: you know he brought me out of favour with my Lady, about a Bear-baiting here.

TOBY

To anger him we'll have the Bear again, and we will fool him black and blue, shall we not, Sir Andrew?

ANDREW

And we do not, it is pity of our lives.

Enter Maria.

TOBY

Here comes the little villain: how now, my Metal of India?

maria

Get ye all three into the box tree!

Toby, Fabian, Andrew duck behind a boxtree. The rest is all in whispers.

maria

Malvolio's coming down this walk;  he has been yonder i'the Sun practicing behavior to his own shadow this half hour. Observe him for the love of Mockery: for I know this Letter will make a contemplate Idiot of him. Close, in the name of jesting, lye thou there!

Maria throws the letter onto the path.

MARIA

For here comes the Trout, that must be caught with tickling.

Exit Maria.

Enter Malvolio, with Shadow AO.

MALVOLIO

'Tis but Fortune, all is fortune. Maria once told me she did affect me, and I have heard herself come thus near, that, should she fancy, it should be one of my complexion. Besides she view me with a more exalted respect than anyone else that follows her. What should I think on't?

Toby

(whispering)

Here's an overweening rogue.

Toby takes out a revolver.

FABIAN

Oh peace: Cotemplation makes a rare Turkey Cock of him, how he lets under his advanc'd plumes.

ANDREW

Sight, I could so beat the Rogue.

Andrew tries taking the revolver from Toby.

TOBY

Peace I say.

Toby resists.

MALVOLIO

To be Count Malvolio.

TOBY

Ah, Rogue.

ANDREW

Pistol him, pistol him!

TOBY

(withdraws revolver, with a pat)

Peace, peace.

MALVOLIO

(contemplate a mystery, epiphany:)

There is example fo't: The Lady of the Strachy, married the yeoman of the wardrobe.

ANDREW

Fie on him Iezabel.

FABIAN

O peace, now he's deeply in: look how imagination blows him.

MALVOLIO

Having been three months married to her, fitting in my state.

TOBY

O for a stone-bow to hit him in the eye.

MALVOLIO

Calling my Officers about me, in my branch'd Velvet gown: having come from a daybed, where I have left Olivia sleeping.

TOBY

(raises the revolver)

Fire and Brimstone!

FABIAN

Oh peace, peace.

MALVOLIO

And then to have the humor of state: and after a demure travaile of regard: telling them I know my place, as I would they should do theirs: to ask for my kinsman Toby.

TOBY

(points revolver)

Bolts and shackles.

fabian

Oh peace, peace, peace, now, now.

MALVOLIO

Seven of my people with an obedient start make out for him: I frown the while, and perchance wind up my watch, or play with my some rich Jewell: Toby approaches; curtsies to me.

toby

Shall this fellow live?

FABIAN

Though our silence be drawn from us with cars, yet peace.

MALVOLIO

I extend my hand to him thus: quenching my familiar smile with an austere regard of control--

TOBY

And do's not Toby take you a blow o'the lips, then?

MALVOLIO

Saying, "Confine Toby, my Fortunes having cast me on your Niece, give me this prerogative of speech."

TOBY

What, what?

MALVOLIO

"You must amend your drunkenness."

TOBY

Out scab.

FABIAN

Nay patience, or we break the fines of our plot?

MALVOLIO

"Besides you waste the treasure of your time, with a foolish knight."

andrew

That's me, I warrant you.

MALVOLIO

"One Sir Andrew--"

andrew

(nodding)

I knew 'twas I, for many do call me fool.

Malvolio sees the letter, bends down and picks it up.

MALVOLIO

What employment have we here?

fabian

Now is the Woodcock near the gin.

TOBY

Oh peace, and the spirit of humors intimate reading aloud to him.

MALVOLIO

By my life this is my Lady's hand: these be her very C's, her V's, and her T's, and thus makes she her great P's. It is in contempt of question her hand.

ANDREW

Her C's, her V's, and her T's: why that?

MALVOLIO

(reads)

"To the unknown belov'd, this, and my good Wifes: Her very Phrases: By your leave wax. Soft, and the impressure her Lucrece, with which she uses to seal: t'is my Lady - to whom should this be?"

fabian

This wins him, Liver and all.

MALVOLIO

"Jove knows I love,
But who?
Lips, do not moon;
No man must know."

Malvolio contemplates.

MALVOLIO

"No man must know." What follows? The numbers alter'd: "No man must know," If this should be thee, Malvolio?

toby

Marry hang the brock.

malvolio

"I may command where I adore,
But silence, like a Lucresse knife:
With bloodless stroke
My heart doth grow,
M.O.A.I. doth sway my life."

fabian

A fustian riddle.

toby

Excellent Wench, say I!

malvolio

"M.O.A.I. doth sway my life." Nay but first let me see, let me see, let me see.

fabian

What dish a polylon has she drest him?

toby

And with what wing the Italian checks at it?

malvolio

"I may command, where I adore." Why she may command me: I serve her, she is my Lady. Why this is evident to any formal capacity. There is no obstruction in this, and the end: What should that Alphabetical position portend, if I could make that resemble something in me? Softly, "M.O.A.I."

toby

O, I make up that, he is now at a cold scent.

fabian

Sowter will cry upon't for all this, though it be as rank as a Fox.

malvolio

"M. -- Malvolio. -- M." -- Why that begins my name.

fabian

Did I not say he would work it out, the Cur is excellent at faults.

malvolio

M. But then there is no consonancy in the sequel that suffers under probation: A. should follow, but O. does.

fabian

And O shall end, I hope.

toby

Aye, or I'll cudgel him, and make him cry O.

malvolio

And then "I" comes behind.

fabian

Aye, and you had any eye behind you, you might see more detraction at your heels, than Fortunes before you.

malvolio

M.O.A.I. This simulation is not as the former: and yet to crush this a little, it would bow to me, for every one of these Letters are in my name. Soft, here follows prose: "If this fall into thy hand, revolve. In my stars, I am above thee, but be not afraid of greatness. Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon 'em. Thy fates open their hands; let thy blood and spirit embrace them, and to inure thyself to what thou art like to be -- cast thy humble slough, and appear fresh. Be opposite with a kinsman, surly with servants: Let thy tongue tang arguments of state; put thyself into the trick of singularity. She thus advises thee, that sighs for thee. Remember who commended thy yellow stockings, and wish'd to see thee ever cross garter'd: I say remember. Go to, thou art made if thou desir'st to be so: If not, let me see thee a steward still, the fellow of servants, and not worthy to touch Fortune's fingers. Farewell, she that would alter services with thee, that fortunate unhappy daylight and champaign discovers not more!"

malvolio

This is open... I will be proud, I will read political Authors, I will baffle Sir Toby, I will wash off gross acquaintance, I will be point denise, the very man. I do not now fool myself, to let imagination jade me; for every reason excites to this, that my Lady loves me. She did commend my yellow stockings of late, she did praise my leg being crossgarter'd, and in this she manifests herself to my love, and with a kind of iniuntion drives me to these habits of her liking. I thank my stars, I am happy: I will be strange, stour, in yellow stockings, and cross Garter'd, even with the switness of putting on. Jove, and my stars be praised. Here is yet a postscript. Thou canst not choose but know who I am. If thou entertainst my love, let it appear in thy smiling, thy smiles become thee well. Therefore in my presence still smile, decree my sweet, I prithee. Jove, I thank thee, I will smile, I will do everything that thou wilt have me.

fabian

I will not give my part of this sport for a pension of thousands to be paid from the Sophy.

TOBY

I could marry this wench for this device.

andrew

So could I too.

TOBY

And ask no other dowry with her, but such another left.

Enter Maria.

ANDREW

Nor I neither.

FABIAN

Here comes my noble gull catcher.

toby

Wilt thou let thy foot o'my neck?

ANDREW

Or o'mine either?

TOBY

Shall I play my freedom at tray-trip, and become thy bondslave?

ANDREW

I'faith, or I either?

toby

Why, thou hast put him in such a dream, that when the image of it leaves him, he must run mad.

MALVOLIO

Nay but say true, do's it work upon him?

toby

Like Aqua vita with a Midwife.

maria

If you will then see the fruits of the sport, mark his first approach before my Lady: he will come to her in yellow stockings, and 'tis a colour she abhors, and cross garter'd, a fashion she detests: and he will smile upon her, which will now be so unfuteable to her disposition, being addicted to a melancholy, as she is, that it cannot but turn him into a notable contempt: if you will see it follow me.

toby

To the gates of Tarter, thou most excellent devil of wit.

andrew

I'll make one too.

Exeunt all.