Malvolio. My prayers, minx!

You are idle shallow

Maria. No, I warrant you, he will not hear of godliness.
Malvolio. Go, hang yourselves all!
things; I am not of your element.

hereafter.

He leaves them [C.].

Sir Toby. Is't possible?

You shall know more

Fabian. If this were played upon a stage now, I could condemn it as an improbable fiction.

Sir Toby. His very guardian angel hath taken the infection of the trick, man.

Fabian. Why, we shall make him mad indeed.

Maria. The house will be the quieter.

Sir Toby. Come, we'll have him in a dark room and bound.1 My niece is already in the belief that he's mad. We may carry it thus, for our pleasure and his penance, till our pastime, tired out of breath, prompt us to have mercy on him.

[Exeunt C.]

Episode 2. Dusk.

Malvolio is looking out through the grating of a cellar window.2
Maria and Clown appear [at R. 1].

Maria. Put on this gown and this beard. Make him believe thou art Sir Topas the curate. Do it quickly; I'll call Sir Toby.

[Exit R. 1.]

Clown. Well, I'll put it on, and I will dissemble myself in it. [He puts on the monk's gown and pulls the cowl up over his fool's cap.]

Sir Toby and Maria appear [at R. 1].

1 dark room and bound. It was contemporary practice to put the insane into a quiet, dark place.

2 Malvolio looking out of cellar window. A dim spot light, turned on Malvolio's face, makes him easy to discern, but the rest of the stage is much in shadow, except for the wing R. 1, which Malvolio cannot see.

Sir Toby. Heaven bless thee, master Parson! Clown. Bonos dies, Sir Toby: for, as the old hermit of Prague, that never saw pen and ink, very wittily said to the niece of King Gorboduc,1 "That that is is"; so I being master Parson, am master Parson; for, what is "that" but "that," and "is" but "is"?

Sir Toby. To him, Sir Topas.

Clown. [Approaching Malvolio.] What, ho, I say! Peace in this prison!

Malvolio. [Within.] Who calls there?

Clown. Sir Topas the curate, who comes to visit Malvolio the lunatic.

Malvolio. Sir Topas, Sir Topas, good Sir Topas, go to my lady.

Clown. Out fiend! Talkest thou nothing but of ladies? Malvolio. Sir Topas, never was man thus wronged. Do

not think I am mad. They have laid me here in hideous darkness.

Clown. Fie, thou dishonest Satan! - Sayest thou that house is dark?

Malvolio. As hell, Sir Topas.

Clown. Why, it hath bay windows.

Malvolio. I am not mad, Sir Topas. I say to you, this house is dark.

Clown. Madman, thou errest. I say, there is no darkness but ignorance.

Malvolio. I say, this house is as dark as ignorance, though ignorance were as dark as hell; and I say, there was never man thus abused: I am no more mad than you are.

Clown.

Fare thee well.

[Comes forward.]

Remain thou still in darkness.

1 Gorboduc (gôr'bō-důk): the king in an old play of that name. However the monk and niece were invented by the clown, on the spot, to make the joke.

Malvolio. Sir Topas, Sir Topas! Sir Toby. [Aside.] My most exquisite Sir Topas! To him now in thine own voice, and bring me word how thou findest him. I am now so far in offence with my niece that I cannot pursue with any safety this sport to the upshot. Come to me by and by.

Malvolio. Good fool, as ever thou wilt deserve well at my hand, help me to a candle, and pen, ink, and paper. As I am a gentleman, I will live to be thankful to thee for it.

Clown. Master Malvolio?

Malvolio. Ay, good fool.

Clown. Alas, sir, how fell you beside your five wits?
Malvolio. I am as well in my wits, fool, as thou art.

Clown. Then you are mad indeed, if you be no better in your wits than a fool.

Malvolio. They have here chained me up; keep me in darkness, send ministers to me, asses, and do all they can to face me out of my wits.

Clown. Be careful what you say; the minister is here. Mal

volio, Malvolio, thy wits the heavens restore! Endeavor to sleep, and leave thy vain bibble babble.

Malvolio. Sir Topas!

Maintain no words with Who, I, sir? Not I, sir. [As Sir Topas.] Amen.

Clown. [Speaking as Sir Topas.] him, good fellow. [As himself.] God be with you,1 good Sir Topas! Malvolio. Fool, fool, fool, I say! Clown. [As himself.] Alas, sir, be patient. What say you, sir? I am blamed for speaking to you.

Malvolio. Good fool, help me to some light and some paper. I tell thee, I am as well in my wits as any man in Illyria. Clown. I would you were, sir!

Malvolio. Good fool, convey what I will write to my lady. Clown. I will help you to it. But tell me true, are you not

mad indeed, or do you but counterfeit?

Malvolio. Believe me, I am not. I tell thee true.

Clown. Nay, I'll ne'er believe a madman till I see his brains. I will fetch you light and paper and ink.

Malvolio. Fool, I'll requite it in the highest degree. I prithee, be gone. Clown. [Singing.]

1 God be with you.

I am gone, sir,

And anon, sir,

I'll be with you again,

In a trice,

Like to the old Vice,2

Your need to sustain;
Who, with dagger of lath,
In his rage and his wrath,

Cries, ah, ha! to the devil,
Like a mad lad.

Pare thy nails, dad.

Adieu, goodman devil.

[Exit R. 3.]

We now say good-bye.

2 Vice: A stock comic character in the old morality plays, in which he played tricks and cracked jokes upon the devil and sometimes beat him with his wooden dagger, or threatened to pare his sharp nails. At the end the devil always carried him off to hell on his back.

ACT V
Next day.

[Enter the Clown and Fabian C.]

Fabian. Now, as thou lovest me, let me see his letter.
Clown. Good Master Fabian, grant me another request.
Fabian. Anything.

Clown. Do not desire to see this letter.

Fabian. This is to give you a dog and in recompense desire my dog again.

Olivia.

Olivia enters [C.].

Fetch Malvolio hither.

Now I remember

They say, poor gentleman, he's much distract.[To Clown.] How does he?

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 today morning, but as a madman's epistles are no gospels, so it matters not much when they are delivered.

Olivia. Open it, and read it.

Clown. [Reads.] "By the Lord, madam,"

Olivia. How now, art thou mad?

Clown. No, madam, I do but read madness.

Olivia. [To Fabian.] Read it you, sir.

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 induced 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.

MALVOLIO."