and give him his defire. Back you fhall not to the House, unless you undertake That with me, which with as much fafety you might answer him; therefore on, or ftrip your Sword ftark naked; for meddle you must, that's certain, or forfwear to wear iron about you.

Vio. This is as uncivil, as ftrange. I beseech you, do me this courteous office, as to know of the Knight what my offence to him is: it is fomething of my negligence, nothing of my purpose.

Sir To. I will do fo. Signior Fabian, ftay you by this Gentleman 'till my return.

[Exit Sir Toby. Vio. Pray you, Sir, do you know of this matter? Fab. I know, the Knight is incens'd against you, even to a mortal arbitrement; but nothing of the circumftance more.

Vio. I beseech you, what manner of man is he?

Fab. 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 Oppofite that you could poffibly have found in any part of Illyria: will you walk towards him? I will make your peace with him, if I

can.

Vio. I fhall be much bound to you for't: I am one, that had rather go with Sir Prieft than Sir Knight: I care not who knows fo much of my mettle. [Exeunt.

Enter Sir Toby, and Sir Andrew.

Sir To. Why, man, he's a very Devil; I have not feen fuch a virago: I had a Pass with him, rapier, fcabbard and all; and he gives me the ftuck in with fuch a mortal motion, that it is inevitable; and on the anfwer, he pays you as furely, as your feet hit the ground they ftep on. They fay, he has been fencer to the Sophy.

Sir And. Pox on't, I'll not meddle with him. Sir To. Ay, but he will not now be pacified: Fabian can scarce hold him yonder.

Rowe's Edition: and Mr. Pope has most faithfully copied it. I have reflor'd the genuine Reading of the old Folio's:

rives itf lf, &c. As in 2 Hen. IV.

his Indignation de

Derives from Hearn his Quarrel and his Caufe.

Sir And.

Sir And. Plague on't, an I thought he had been va liant, and fo cunning in fence, I'd have feen him damn'd ere I'd have challeng'd him. Let him let the matter flip, and I'll give him my horfe, grey Capilet.

Sir To. I'll make the motion; ftand here, make a good fhew on't;This fhall end without the perdition of fouls; marry, I'll ride your horse as well as I ride you. [Afide.

Enter Fabian and Viola.

I have his horfe to take up the quarrel; I have perfuaded him, the Youth's a Devil. [To Fabian. Fab. He is as horribly conceited of him; and pants and looks pale, as if a bear were at his heels.

Sir To. There's no remedy, Sir, he will fight with you for's oath fake: marry, he hath better bethought him of his quarrel, and he finds That now scarce to be worth talking of; therefore draw for the fupportance of his vow, he protéfts he will not hurt you.

Vio. Pray God defend me a little thing would make me tell them how much I lack of a man.

Fab. Give ground, if you fee him furious.

Sir To. Come, Sir Andrew, there's no remedy, the Gentleman will for his honour's fake 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. [They draw. Sir And. Pray God, he keep his oath!

Enter Antonio.

Vio. I do affure you, 'tis against my will. Ant. Put up your fword; if this young Gentleman Have done offence, I take the fault on me; If you offend him, I for him defie you.

[Drawing.

Sir To. You, Sir? Why, what are you? Ant. One, Sir, that for his love dares yet do more Than you have heard him brag to you he will. Sir To. Nay, if you be an undertaker, I am for you. [Draws.

Enter Officers.

Fab. O good Sir Toby, hold; here come the Offi

cers.

L12

Sir To.

Sir To. I'll be with you anon.
Vio. Pray, Sir, put your fword

Sir And. Marry, will I, Sir; and you, I'll be as good as my word. eafily, and reins well.

up if you please.

[To Sir Andrew. for that I promis'd He will bear you

1 Off. This is the Man; do thy office.

2 Off. Antonio, I arreft thee at the fuit of Duke Orfino.

Ant. You do mistake me, Sir.

1 Off. No, Sir, no jot; I know your favour well; Tho' now you have no fea-cap on your head. Take him away; he knows, I know him well.

Ant. I must obey. This comes with feeking you;
But there's no remedy. I fhall answer it.
What will you do? now my neceffity

Makes me to ask you for my purse. It grieves me
Much more, for what I cannot do for you,
Than what befalls my felf: you stand amaz'd,
But be of comfort.

2 Off. Come, Sir, away.

Ant. I muft intreat of you fome of that mony.
Vio. What mony, Sir?

For the fair kindness you have fhew'd me here,
And part being prompted by your present trouble,
Out of my lean and low ability

I'll lend you fomething; my Having is not much,
I'll make divifion of my prefent with you:
Hold, there's half my Coffer.

Ant. Will you deny me now?
Is't poffible, that my deferts to you

Can lack perfuafion? do not tempt my mifery,
Left that it make me fo unfound a man,

As to upbraid you with those kindneffes
That I have done for you.

Vio. I know of none,

Nor know I you by voice, or any feature:
I hate ingratitude more in a 'Man,

Than lying, vainnefs, babling drunkenness,
Or any taint of vice, whofe ftrong corruption
Inhabits our frail blood.

Ant

2 Off. Come, Sir, I pray you, go.

Ant. Let me fpeak a little. This Youth that you fee here,

I fnatcht one half out of the Jaws of Death;
Reliev'd him with fuch fanctity of love,

And to his Image, which, methought, did promife
Most venerable Worth, did I Devotion."

1 Off. What's that to us? the time goes by; away.
Ant. But oh, how vile an Idol proves this God!
Thou haft, Sebaftian, done good feature fhame.
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.
1 Off. The Man grows mad, away with him:
Come, come, Sir.

Ant. Lead me on.

[Exit Antonio with Officers. Vio. Methinks, his words do from fuch paffion fly, That he believes himself; fo do not I:

Prove true, Imagination, oh, prove true,

That I, dear Brother, be now ta'en for

you!

Sir To. Come hither, Knight; come hither, Fabian; we'll whisper o'er a couplet or two of moft fage faws, Vio. He nam'd Sebaftian; I my Brother know Yet living in my glass; even fuch, and fo In favour was my Brother; and he went Still in this fashion, colour, ornament; For him I imitate: oh, if it prove,

Tempefts are kind, and falt waves fresh in love. [Exit. Sir To. A very difhoneft paltry Boy, and more a coward than a hare; his difhonefty appears in leaving his Friend here in neceffity, and denying him; and for his cowardship, ask_Fabian.

Fab. A coward, a moft devout coward, religious in it.
Sir And. 'Slid, I'll after him again, and beat him.
Sir To. Do, cuff him foundly, but never draw thy fword.
Sir And. An I do not,
[Exit Sir Andrew.

Fab. Come, let's fee the event.

Şir To. I dare lay any mony, 'twill be nothing yet.

L13

[Exeunt.

ACT

ACT

IV.

SCENE, the STREET.

W

Enter Sebaftian, and Clown.

CLOWN.

ILL you make me believe, that I am not fent for you?

Seb. Go to, go to, thou art a foolish fellow,

Let me be clear of thee.

Clo. Well held out, i'faith: no, I do not know you, nor I am not sent to you by my Lady, to bid you come fpeak with her; nor your name is not Master Cefario, nor this is not my nofe neither; nothing, that is fo, is fo.

Seb. I pr'ythee, vent thy folly fomewhere elfe; thou know'ft not me.

Clo. Vent my folly! he has heard that word of fome Great Man, and now applies it to a fool. Vent my folly! I am afraid, this great lubber the world will prove a Cockney: I pr'ythee now, ungird thy ftrangeness and tell me what I fhall vent to my Lady; thall I vent to her, that thou art coming?

Seb. I pr'ythee, foolish Greek, depart from me; there's mony for thee. If you tarry longer, I fhall give worse

payment.

Clo. By my troth, thou haft an open hand; these wife Men, that give fools mony, get themselves a good report after fourteen years purchale.

Enter Sir Andrew, Sir Toby, and Fabian.

Sir And. Now, Sir, have I met you again? there's for you. [Striking Sebaftian. Seb. Why, there's for thee, and there, and there: are all the people mad? [Beating Sir Andrew. Sir To. Hold, Sir, or I'll throw your dagger o'er

the house.

Clo.