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tears let fall upon your cheek,

       And say, ‘Thrice-welcome, drowned Viola!’

       VIOLA.

       My father had a mole upon his brow.

       SEBASTIAN.

       And so had mine.

       VIOLA.

       And died that day when Viola from her birth

       Had numb’red thirteen years.

       SEBASTIAN.

       O, that record is lively in my soul!

       He finished, indeed, his mortal act

       That day that made my sister thirteen years.

       VIOLA.

       If nothing lets to make us happy both

       But this my masculine usurp’d attire,

       Do not embrace me till each circumstance

       Of place, time, fortune, do cohere and jump

       That I am Viola: which to confirm,

       I ‘ll bring you to a captain in this town,

       Where lie my maiden weeds; by whose gentle help

       I was preserv’d to serve this noble count.

       All the occurrence of my fortune since

       Hath been between this lady and this lord.

       SEBASTIAN.

       [To OLIVIA] So comes it, lady, you have been mistook;

       But nature to her bias drew in that.

       You would have been contracted to a maid;

       Nor are you therein, by my life, deceiv’d,

       You are betroth’d both to a maid and man.

       DUKE.

       Be not amaz’d; right noble is his blood.

       If this be so, as yet the glass seems true,

       I shall have share in this most happy wreck.

       [To VIOLA] Boy, thou hast said to me a thousand times

       Thou never shouldst love woman like to me.

       VIOLA.

       And all those sayings will I overswear;

       And all those swearings keep as true in soul

       As doth that orbed continent the fire

       That severs day from night.

       DUKE.

       Give me thy hand;

       And let me see thee in thy woman’s weeds.

       VIOLA.

       The captain that did bring me first on shore

       Hath my maid’s garments; he, upon some action,

       Is now in durance, at Malvolio’s suit,

       A gentleman and follower of my lady’s.

       OLIVIA.

       He shall enlarge him. Fetch Malvolio hither;

       And yet, alas, now I remember me,

       They say, poor gentleman, he ‘s much distract.

       [Re-enter CLOWN with a letter, and FABIAN.]

       A most extracting frenzy of mine own

       From my remembrance clearly banish’d his.

       How does he, sirrah?

       CLOWN. Truly, madam, he holds Belzebub at the stave’s end as well as a man in his case may do. Has here writ a letter to you; I should have given ‘t you to-day morning; but as a madman’s epistles are no gospels, so it skills not much when they are deliver’d.

       OLIVIA.

       Open ‘t, and read it.

       CLOWN.

       Look then to be well edified when the fool delivers the madman.

       [Reads] By the Lord, madam,—

       OLIVIA.

       How now! art thou mad?

       CLOWN. No, madam, I do but read madness: and your ladyship will have it as it ought to be, you must allow Vox.

       OLIVIA.

       Prithee, read i’ thy right wits.

       CLOWN. So I do, madonna; but to read his right wits is to read thus: therefore perpend, my princess, and give ear.

       OLIVIA.

       [To FABIAN] Read it you, sirrah.

       FABIAN. [Reads] By the Lord, madam, you wrong me, and the world shall know it; though you have put me into darkness and given your drunken cousin rule over me, yet have I the benefit of my senses as well as your ladyship. I have your own letter that induc’d me to the semblance I put on; with the which I doubt not but to do myself much right, or you much shame. Think of me as you please. I leave my duty a little unthought of, and speak out of my injury. THE MADLY-US’D MALVOLIO.

       OLIVIA.

       Did he write this?

       CLOWN.

       Ay, madam.

       DUKE.

       This savours not much of distraction.

       OLIVIA.

       See him deliver’d, Fabian; bring him hither.

       [Exit FABIAN.]

       My lord, so please you, these things further thought on,

       To think me as well a sister as a wife,

       One day shall crown th’ alliance on ‘t, so please you,

       Here at my house, and at my proper cost.

       DUKE.

       Madam, I am most apt t’ embrace your offer.

       [To VIOLA] Your master quits you; and, for your service done him,

       So much against the mettle of your sex,

       So far beneath your soft and tender breeding,

       And since you call’d me master for so long,

       Here is my hand; you shall from this time be

       Your master’s mistress.

       OLIVIA.

       A sister! you are she.

       [Re-enter FABIAN, with MALVOLIO.]

       DUKE.

       Is this the madman?

       OLIVIA.

       Ay, my lord, this same.

       How now, Malvolio!

       MALVOLIO.

       Madam, you have done me wrong,

       Notorious wrong.

       OLIVIA.

       Have I, Malvolio? no.

       MALVOLIO.

       Lady, you have. Pray you peruse that letter.

       You must not now deny it is your hand;

       Write from it, if you can, in hand or phrase;

       Or say ‘t is not your seal, not your invention:

       You can say none of this. Well, grant it then;

       And tell me, in the modesty of honour,

       Why you have given me such clear lights of favour,

       Bade me come smiling and cross-garter’d to you,

       To put on yellow stockings, and to frown

       Upon Sir Toby and the lighter people;

       And, acting this in an obedient hope,

       Why have you suffer’d me to be imprison’d,

       Kept in a dark house, visited by the priest,

       And made the most notorious geck and gull

      

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