Olivia was very sad when Viola, or the young page Cesario, as she
thought her, went away saying that no woman should ever win his heart;
and feeling that Malvolio’s grave dignity just suited her present
mood, she asked for her steward.
“He is coming, madam, but in very strange manner,” said the naughty
Maria. “He is surely possessed, madam.”
“Why, what is the matter? Doth he rave?”
“No, madam, he does nothing but smile. Your ladyship were best to have
some guard about you if he come; for, sure, the man has something
wrong with his wits.”
“Go, call him hither,” said Olivia.
When Maria returned with Malvolio, Olivia was amazed to see the
extraordinary change that had come over her usually sober and sedate
steward. Malvolio advanced with mincing step and many fantastic
gestures, which he intended to represent gracious affability; his
lantern jaws and severe features were twisted into strange grimaces,
which he imagined to be fascinating smiles; his lanky legs were
encased in brilliant yellow stockings, and were further adorned
with cross-gartering from the ankle upwards. Olivia thought he must
certainly be bereft of his wits, especially when, in answer to all her
questions, he poured forth a series of incomprehensible remarks. They
were really quotations from the letter he had picked up, but Olivia,
of course, did not know this, and to her they sounded like senseless
jargon. Malvolio kept on bowing and smirking, and kissing his hand
to Olivia, while he waved Maria aside with intense scorn. Olivia was
really distressed to think of the sudden calamity that had befallen
the poor man’s wits, for she valued his honesty and faithful service.
She gave directions that her people should take especial care of him,
and sent Maria to find Sir Toby to look after him.
Malvolio was quite pleased to find himself of such importance, and
continued his self-complacent reflections on the greatness which he
thought he had achieved. He was firmly convinced that Olivia really
liked him, and that she had only sent for Sir Toby on purpose that he
might be severe with him, as the letter advised. When Maria reappeared
with Sir Toby and Fabian, he treated them all with the most lofty
disdain. They were greatly delighted with the success of their trick,
and determined to carry on the joke still further. Pretending to think
that Malvolio had really lost his wits, they had him bound and carried
to a dark room. Then Feste, the clown, disguised his voice, and spoke
to him as if he were a curate, come to visit him in his misfortune.
He had an argument with Malvolio, in which the poor man made it quite
apparent that he was still in possession of his proper reason. But
Feste, or Sir Topas, as he called himself for this occasion, would not
hold out any hope of release, and, as far as Malvolio could tell in
his dark prison, presently departed, without bringing him any comfort.
Sir Toby now began to think the joke had gone far enough, and that
it was time to release Malvolio as soon as it could conveniently be
done. He knew that Olivia would be seriously displeased if she came to
learn what had happened, and he was already so deep in disgrace with
his niece that he could not with safety pursue the sport any further.
He therefore told the clown to speak to Malvolio in his own voice.
Feste began singing one of his songs, as if he had just come near, and
Malvolio, recognising it, called piteously to him for help.
“Good fool, as ever you will 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 you for it!”
The clown still went on teasing Malvolio a little before he would
grant his request, but finally said he would get what he wanted, and
went off to fetch a light and writing materials. Malvolio wrote his
letter, which the clown duly delivered, and which clearly proved that
the poor man was quite sane, though justly indignant at the way in
which he had been treated. Olivia ordered his immediate release, and
when Malvolio came and bitterly reproached her for the letter she had
written, and the way in which he had been befooled, she assured him
that the fault was none of hers, and that the handwriting was Maria’s.
Fabian then stepped forward and took the whole blame on himself and
Sir Toby. He said they had played this trick on Malvolio because of
his ill-nature towards themselves. Maria had only written the letter
under great persuasion from Sir Toby, who now, out of recompense, had
married her. Fabian added that he thought the playful malice with
which the joke was carried out deserved laughter rather than revenge,
if the injuries on both sides were justly weighed.
“Alas, poor fool, how have they baffled thee!” said Olivia.
“I’ll be revenged on the whole pack of you,” cried Malvolio, taking
himself off in a terrible fury.
And the laughter of the others was checked by the stern rebuke of
Olivia:
“He has been treated most shamefully.”