SCENE IOLIVIA'S garden.
Enter VIOLA, and CLOWN with a tabor.
Save thee, friend, and thy music:
dost thou live by thy tabor?
No, sir, I live by the church.
Art thou a churchman?
No such matter, sir: I do live by the
church; for I do live at my house, and my
house doth stand by the church.
So thou mayst say, the king lies by a
beggar, if a beggar dwell near him; or, the
church stands by thy tabor, if thy tabor stand (11)
by the church.
You have said, sir. To see this age!
A sentence is but a cheveril glove to a good
wit: how quickly the wrong side may be
Nay, that's certain; they that dally
nicely with words may quickly make them
I would, therefore, my sister had had (20)
no name, sir.
Why, sir, her name's a word; and to
dally with that word might make my sister
wanton. But indeed words are very rascals
since bonds disgraced them.
Thy reason, man?
Troth, sir, I can yield you none without
words; and words are grown so false, I
am loath to prove reason with them.
I warrant thou art a merry fellow (31)
and carest for nothing.
Not so, sir, I do care for something;
but in my conscience, sir, I do not care for
you: if that be to care for nothing, sir, I
would it would make you invisible.
Art not thou the Lady Olivia's fool?
No, indeed, sir; the Lady Olivia has
no folly: she will keep no fool, sir, till she be
married; and fools are as like husbands as
pilchards are to herrings; the husband's the
bigger: I am indeed not her fool, but her corrupter
I saw thee late at the Count Orsino's.
Foolery, sir, does walk about the orb
like the sun, it shines every where. I would
be sorry, sir, but the fool should be as oft with
your master as with my mistress: I think I
saw your wisdom there.
Nay, an thou pass upon me, I'll no
more with thee. Hold, there's expenses for
Now Jove, in his next commodity of (51)
hair, send thee a beard!
By my troth, I'll tell thee, I am almost
sick for one; [Aside] though I would not have
it grow on my chin. Is thy lady within?
Would not a pair of these have bred, sir?
Yes, being kept together and put to use.
I would play Lord Pandarus of
Phrygia, sir, to bring a Cressida to this
I understand you, sir; 'tis well begged.
The matter, I hope, is not great, sir,
begging but a beggar: Cressida was a beggar.
My lady is within, sir. I will construe to them
whence you come; who you are and what you
would are out of my welkin, I might say 'element,'
but the word is over-worn. [Exit.
This fellow is wise enough to play the fool;
And to do that well craves a kind of wit:
He must observe their mood on whom he jests, (70)
The quality of persons, and the time,
And, like the haggard, check at every feather
That comes before his eye. This is a practice
As full of labor as a wise man's art:
For folly that he wisely shows is fit;
But wise men, folly-fall'n, quite taint their wit. Enter SIR TOBY and SIR ANDREW.
Save you, gentleman.
And you, sir.
Dieu vous garde, monsieur.
Et vous aussi; votre serviteur.
I hope, sir, you are; and I am (81)
Will you encounter the house? my
niece is desirous you should enter, if your
trade be to her.
I am bound to your niece, sir; I
mean, she is the list of my voyage.
Taste your legs, sir; put them to
My legs do better understand me, sir,
than I understand what you mean by bidding (91)
me taste my legs.
I mean, to go, sir, to enter.
I will answer you with gait and entrance.
But we are prevented. Enter OLIVIA and MARIA.
Most excellent accomplished lady, the heavens
rain odors on you!
That youth's a rare courtier:
'Rain odors;' well.
My matter hath no voice, lady, but
to your own most pregnant and vouchsafed ear.
'Odors,' 'pregnant' and 'vouchsafed:'
I'll get 'em all three all ready.
Let the garden door be shut, and leave
me to my hearing. [Exeunt Sir Toby, Sir
Andrew, and Maria.] Give me your hand, sir.
My duty, madam, and most humble service.
What is your name?
Cesario is your servant's name, fair princess.
My servant, sir! 'Twas never merry world
Since lowly feigning was call'd compliment:
You're servant to the Count Orsino, youth.
And he is yours, and his must needs be yours:
Your servant's servant is your servant, madam.
For him, I think not on him: for his thoughts,
Would they were blanks, rather than fill'd with me!
Madam, I come to whet your gentle thoughts
On his behalf.
O, by your leave, I pray you,
I bade you never speak again of him:
But, would you undertake another suit, (120)
I had rather hear you to solicit that
Than music from the spheres.
Give me leave, beseech you. I did send,
After the last enchantment you did here,
A ring in chase of you: so did I abuse
Myself, my servant and, I fear me, you:
Under your hard construction must I sit,
To force that on you, in a shameful cunning,
Which you knew none of yours: what might you think? (129)
Have you not set mine honor at the stake
And baited it with all the unmuzzled thoughts
That tyrannous heart can think? To one of your receiving
Enough is shown: a cypress, not a bosom,
Hideth my heart. So, let me hear you speak.
I pity you.
That's a degree to love.
No, not a grize; for 'tis a vulgar proof,
That very oft we pity enemies.
Why, then, methinks 'tis time to smile again.
O world, how apt the poor are to be proud!
If one should be a prey, how much the better (140)
To fall before the lion than the wolf! Clock strikes.
The clock upbraids me with the waste of time.
Be not afraid, good youth, I will not have you:
And yet, when wit and youth is come to harvest,
Your wife is like to reap a proper man:
There lies your way, due west.
Then westward-ho! Grace and good disposition
Attend your ladyship!
You'll nothing, madam, to my lord by me?
I prithee, tell me what thou think'st of me.
That you do think you are not what you are.
If I think so, I think the same of you.
Then think you right: I am not what I am.
I would you were as I would have you be!
Would it be better, madam, than I am?
I wish it might, for now I am your fool.
O, what a deal of scorn looks beautiful
In the contempt and anger of his lip!
A murderous guilt shows not itself more soon (160)
Than love that would seem hid: love's night is noon.
Cesario, by the roses of the spring,
By maidhood, honor, truth and every thing,
I love thee so, that, maugre all thy pride,
Nor wit nor reason can my passion hide.
Do not extort thy reasons from this clause,
For that I woo, thou therefore hast no cause,
But rather reason thus with reason fetter,
Love sought is good, but given unsought is better.
By innocence I swear, and by my youth, (170)
I have one heart, one bosom and one truth,
And that no woman has; nor never none
Shall mistress be of it, save I alone.
And so adieu, good madam: never more
Will I my master's tears to you deplore.
Yet come again; for thou perhaps mayst move
That heart, which now abhors, to like his love. [Exeunt.
SCENE IOLIVIA's house.
Enter SIR TOBY, SIR ANDREW, and FABIAN
No, faith, I'll not stay a jot
Thy reason, dear venom, give thy
You must needs yield your reason,
Marry, I saw your niece do more
favors to the count's serving-man than ever
she bestowed upon me; I saw't i' the orchard.
Did she see thee the while, old (10)
boy? tell me that.
As plain as I see you now.
This was a great argument of love in
her toward you.
'Slight, will you make an ass o'
I will prove it legitimate, sir, upon
the oaths of judgement and reason.
And they have been grand-jurymen
since before Noah was a sailor.
She did show favor to the youth in
your sight only to exasperate you, to awake
your dormouse valor, to put fire in your
heart, and brimstone in your liver. You should
then have accosted her; and with some excellent
jests, fire-new from the mint, you should
have banged the youth into dumbness. This
was looked for at your hand, and this was
balked: the double gilt of this opportunity
you let time wash off, and you are now sailed
into the north of my lady's opinion; where
you will hang like an icicle on a Dutchman's
beard, unless you do redeem it by some (31)
laudable attempt either of valor or policy.
An't be any way, it must be with
valor; for policy I hate: I had as lief be a
Brownist as a politician.
Why, then, build me thy fortunes
upon the basis of valor. Challenge me the
count's youth to fight with him; hurt him in
eleven places: my niece shall take note of it;
and assure thyself, there is no love-broker in
the world can more prevail in man's commendation (41)
with woman than report of valor.
There is no way but this, Sir Andrew.
Will either of you bear me a
challenge to him?
Go, write it in a martial hand; be
curst and brief; it is no matter how witty, so
it be eloquent and full of invention: taunt
him with the license of ink: if thou thou'st
him some thrice, it shall not be amiss; and
as many lies as will lie in thy sheet of paper,
although the sheet were big enough for the
bed of Ware in England, set 'em down: go,
about it. Let there be gall enough in thy ink,
though thou write with a goose-pen, no
matter: about it.
Where shall I find you?
We'll call thee at the cubiculo: go. [Exit Sir Andrew.
This is a dear manakin to you, Sir Toby.
I have been dear to him, lad, some
two thousand strong, or so.
We shall have a rare letter from him: (61)
but you'll not deliver't?
Never trust me, then; and by all
means stir on the youth to an answer. I think
oxen and wainropes cannot hale them together.
For Andrew, if he were opened, and
you find so much blood in his liver as will clog
the foot of a flea, I'll eat the rest of the
And his opposite, the youth, bears in
his visage no great presage of cruelty. Enter MARIA.
Look, where the youngest wren of (71)
If you desire the spleen, and will
laugh yourselves into stitches, follow me. Yond
gull Malvolio is turned heathen, a very renegado;
for there is no Christian, that means to
be saved by believing rightly, can ever believe
such impossible passages of grossness. He's
in yellow stockings. (79)
Most villanously; like a pedant that
keeps a school i' the church. I have dogged
him, like his murderer. He does obey every
point of the letter that I dropped to betray
him: he does smile his face into more lines
than is in the new map with the augmentation
of the Indies: you have not seen such a
thing as 'tis. I can hardly forbear hurling
things at him. I know my lady will strike him:
if she do, he'll smile and take't for a great favor. (90)
Come, bring us, bring us where he is. [Exeunt.
SCENE IIA street.
Enter SEBASTIAN and ANTONIO.
I would not by my will have troubled you;
But, since you make your pleasure of your pains,
I will no further chide you.
I could not stay behind you: my desire,
More sharp than filed steel, did spur me forth;
And not all love to see you, though so much
As might have drawn one to a longer voyage,
But jealousy what might befall your travel,
Being skilless in these parts; which to a stranger, (10)
Unguided and unfriended, often prove
Rough and unhospitable: my willing love,
The rather by these arguments of fear,
Set forth in your pursuit.
My kind Antonio,
I can no other answer make but thanks,
And thanks; and ever . . . oft good turns
Are shuffled off with such uncurrent pay:
But, were my worth as is my conscience firm,
You should find better dealing. What's to do ?
Shall we go see the reliques of this town? (20)
To-morrow, sir: best first go see your lodging.
I am not weary, and 'tis long to night:
I pray you, let us satisfy our eyes
With the memorials and the things of fame
That do renown this city.
Would you'ld pardon me;
I do not without danger walk these streets:
Once, in a sea-fight, 'gainst the count his galleys
I did some service; of such note indeed,
That were I ta'en here it would scarce be answer'd.
Belike you slew great number of his people. (30)
The offence is not of such a bloody nature;
Albeit the quality of the time and quarrel
Might well have given us bloody argument.
It might have since been answer'd in repaying
What we took from them; which, for traffic's sake,
Most of our city did: only myself stood out;
For which, if I be lapsed in this place,
I shall pay dear.
Do not then walk too open.
It doth not fit me. Hold, sir, here's my purse.
In the south suburbs, at the Elephant, (40)
Is best to lodge: I will bespeak our diet,
Whiles you beguile the time and feed your knowledge
With viewing of the town: there shall you have me.
Why I your purse?
Haply your eye shall light upon some toy
You have desire to purchase; and your store,
I think, is not for idle markets, sir.
I'll be your purse-bearer and leave you
For an hour.
To the Elephant.
I do remember. [Exeunt.
SCENE IIIOLIVIA'S garden.
Enter OLIVIA and MARIA.
I have sent after him: he says he'll come;
How shall I feast him? what bestow of him?
For youth is bought more oft than begg'd or borrow'd.
I speak too loud.
Where is Malvolio? he is sad and civil,
And suits well for a servant with my fortunes:
Where is Malvolio?
He's coming, madam; but in very
strange manner. He is, sure, possessed,
Why, what's the matter? does 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 is tainted in's wits.
Go call him hither. [Exit Maria.]
I am as mad as he,
If sad and merry madness equal be. Re-enter MARIA, with MALVOLIO.
How now, Malvolio!
Sweet lady, ho, ho.
Smilest thou? (20)
I sent for thee upon a sad occasion.
Sad, lady! I could be sad: this does
make some obstruction in the blood, this cross-gartering;
but what of that? if it please the
eye of one, it is with me as the very true sonnet
is, 'Please one, and please all.'
Why, how dost thou, man? what is
the matter with thee?
Not black in my mind, though yellow
in my legs. It did come to his hands, and commands
shall be executed: I think we do know (31)
the sweet Roman hand.
Wilt thou go to bed, Malvolio?
To bed! ay, sweet-heart, and I'll
come to thee.
God comfort thee! Why dost thou
smile so and kiss thy hand so oft?
How do you, Malvolio?
At your request! yes; nightingales
Why appear you with this ridiculous (41)
boldness before my lady?
'Be not afraid of greatness:' 'twas
What meanest thou by that, Malvolio?
'Some are born great,'—
'Some achieve greatness,'—
What sayest thou?
'And some have greatness thrust (50)
Heaven restore thee!
'Remember who commended thy yellow
Thy yellow stockings!
'And wished to see thee crossgartered.'
'Go to, thou art made, if thou desirest
to be so;'— (59)
Am I made?
'If not, let me see thee a servant still.'
Why, this is very midsummer madness. Enter Servant.
Madam, the young gentleman of the
Count Orsino's is returned: I could hardly
entreat him back: he attends your ladyship's
I'll come to him. [Exit Servant.] Good
Maria, let this fellow be looked to. Where's my
cousin Toby? Let some of my people have a
special care of him: I would not have him (70)
miscarry for the half of my dowry. [Exeunt Olivia and Maria.
O, ho! do you come near me now?
no worse man than Sir Toby to look to me!
This concurs directly with the letter: she sends
him on purpose, that I may appear stubborn
to him; for she incites me to that in the letter.
'Cast thy humble slough,' says she: 'be opposite
with a kinsman, surly with servants; let
thy tongue tang with arguments of state; put
thyself into the trick of singularity;' and consequently
sets down the manner how; as, a sad
face, a reverend carriage, a slow tongue, in
the habit of some sir of note, and so forth. I
have limed her; but it is Jove's doing, and
Jove make me thankful! And when she went
away now, 'Let this fellow be looked to:'
fellow! not Malvolio, nor after my degree,
but fellow. Why, every thing adheres together,
that no dram of a scruple, no scruple of a
scruple, no obstacle, no incredulous or unsafe
circumstance—What can be said? Nothing
that can be can come between me and the full
prospect of my hopes. Well, Jove, not I, is the
doer of this, and he is to be thanked. Re-enter MARIA, with SIR TOBY and FABIAN.
Which way is he, in the name of
sanctity? If all the devils of hell be drawn in
little, and Legion himself possessed him, yet
I'll speak to him.
Here he is, here he is. How is't with
you, sir? how is't with you, man?
Go off; I discard you: let me enjoy (100)
my private: go off.
Lo, how hollow the fiend speaks
within him! did not I tell you? Sir Toby, my
lady prays you to have a care of him.
Ah, ha! does she so?
Go to, go to; peace, peace; we
must deal gently with him: let me alone. How
do you, Malvolio? how is't with you? What,
man! defy the devil: consider, he's an enemy
to mankind. (110)
Do you know what you say?
La you, an you speak ill of the devil,
how he takes it at heart! Pray God, he be not
Carry his water to the wise woman.
Marry, and it shall be done to-morrow
morning, if I live. My lady would not lose
him for more than I'll say.
How now, mistress! (119)
Prithee, hold thy peace; this is not
the way: do you not see you move him? let (122)
me alone with him.
No way but gentleness; gently, gently:
the fiend is rough, and will not be roughly
Why, how now, my bawcock! how
dost thou, chuck?
Ay, Biddy, come with me. What,
man! 'tis not for gravity to play at cherry-pit (130)
with Satan: hang him, foul collier!
Get him to say his prayers, good Sir
Toby, get him to pray.
My prayers, minx!
No, I warrant you, he will not hear
Go, hang yourselves all! you are idle
shallow things: I am not of your element:
you shall know more hereafter. [Exit. (139)
If this were played upon a stage now,
I could condemn it as an improbable fiction.
His very genius hath taken the infection
of the device, man.
Nay, pursue him now, lest the device
take air and taint.
Why, we shall make him mad indeed.
The house will be the quieter.
Come, we'll have him in a dark
room and bound. My niece is already in the
belief that he's mad: we may carry it thus,
for our pleasure and his penance, till our very
pastime, tired out of breath, prompt us to
have mercy on him: at which time we will
bring the device to the bar and crown thee for
a finder of madmen. But see, but see. Enter SIR ANDREW.
More matter for a May morning.
Here's the challenge, read it: I
warrant there's vinegar and pepper in't.
Is't so saucy?
Ay, is't, I warrant him: do but (161)
Give me. [Reads] 'Youth, whatsoever
thou art, thou art but a scurvy fellow.'
Good, and valiant.
'Wonder not, nor admire
not in thy mind, why I do call thee so, for I
will show thee no reason for't.'
A good note; that keeps you from (169)
the blow of the law. Sir To.
'Thou comest to the lady
Olivia, and in my sight she uses thee kindly:
but thou liest in thy throat; that is not the
matter I challenge thee for.'
Very brief, and to exceeding good
sense—less. Sir To.
'I will waylay thee going
home; where if it be thy chance to kill me,'—
Good. Sir To.
'Thou killest me like a (180)
rogue and a villain.'
Still you keep o' the windy side of the
law: good. Sir To.
If this letter move him not, his legs cannot:
I'll give't him.
You may have very fit occasion
for't: he is now in some commerce with my
lady, and will by and by depart.
Go, Sir Andrew: scout me for him
at the corner of the orchard like a bum-baily:
so soon as ever thou seest him, draw; and, as
thou drawest, swear horrible; for it comes to
pass oft that a terrible oath, with a swaggering
accent sharply twanged off, gives manhood
more approbation than ever proof itself would (200)
have earned him. Away!
Nay, let me alone for swearing. [Exit.
Now will not I deliver his letter:
for the behavior of the young gentleman gives
him out to be of good capacity and breeding;
his employment between his lord and my niece
confirms no less: therefore this letter, being
so excellently ignorant, will breed no terror in
the youth: he will find it comes from a coldpole.
But, sir, I will deliver his challenge by
word of mouth; set upon Aguecheek a notable
report of valor; and drive the gentleman, as
I know his youth will aptly receive it, into a
most hideous opinion of his rage, skill, fury
and impetuosity. This will so fright them both
that they will kill one another by the look, like
cockatrices. Re-enter OLIVIA, with VIOLA.
Here he comes with your niece: give
them way till he take leave, and presently after
I will meditate the while upon (220)
some horrid message for a challenge. [Exeunt Sir Toby, Fabian, and Maria.
I have said too much unto a heart of stone
And laid mine honor too unchary out:
There's something in me that reproves my fault;
But such a headstrong potent fault it is,
That it but mocks reproof.
With the same 'havior that your passion bears
Goes on my master's grief.
Here, wear this jewel for me, 'tis my picture;
Refuse it not; it hath no tongue to vex you; (230)
And I beseech you come again to-morrow.
What shall you ask of me that I'll deny,
That honor saved may upon asking give?
Nothing but this; your true love for my master.
How with mine honor may I give him that
Which I have given to you?
I will acquit you.
Well, come again to-morrow: fare thee well:
A fiend like thee might bear my soul to hell. [Exit.
Re-enter SIR TOBY and FABIAN.
Gentleman, God save thee. (239)
And you, sir.
That defence thou hast, betake thee
to't: of what nature the wrongs are thou hast
done him, I know not; but thy intercepter, full
of despite, bloody as the hunter, attends thee
at the orchard-end: dismount thy tuck, be
yare in thy preparation, for thy assailant is
quick, skilful and deadly.
You mistake, sir; I am sure no man
hath any quarrel to me: my remembrance is
very free and clear from any image of offence (250)
done to any man.
You'll find it otherwise, I assure
you: therefore, if you hold your life at any
price, betake you to your guard; for your opposite
hath in him what youth, strength, skill
and wrath can furnish man withal.
I pray you, sir, what is he?
He is knight, dubbed with unhatched
rapier and on carpet consideration;
but he is a devil in private brawl: souls and
bodies hath he divorced three; and his incensement
at this moment is so implacable,
that satisfaction can be none but by pangs of
death and sepulchre. Hob, nob, is his word;
give't or take't.
I will return again into the house and
desire some conduct of the lady. I am no
fighter. I have heard of some kind of men that
put quarrels purposely on others, to taste their
valor: belike this is a man of that quirk.
Sir, no; his indignation derives itself
out of a very competent injury: therefore,
get you on and give him his desire. Back
you shall not to the house, unless you undertake
that with me which with as much safety
you might answer him: therefore, on, or strip
your sword stark naked; for meddle you must,
that's certain, or forswear to wear iron about
This is as uncivil as strange. I beseech
you, do me this courteous office, as to
know of the knight what my offence to him
is: it is something of my negligence, nothing
of my purpose.
I will do so. Signior Fabian, stay
you by this gentleman till my return. [Exit.
Pray you, sir, do you know of this matter?
I know the knight is incensed against
you, even to a mortal arbitrement; but nothing
of the circumstance more. (289)
I beseech you, what manner of man is he?
Nothing of that wonderful promise,
to read him by his form, as you are like to find
him in the proof of his valor. He is, indeed,
sir, the most skilful, bloody and fatal opposite
that you could possibly have found in any part
of Illyria. Will you walk towards him? I will
make your peace with him if I can.
I shall be much bound to you for 't:
I am one that had rather go with sir priest
than sir knight: I care not who knows so (300)
much of my mettle. [Exeunt. Re-enter SIR TOBY, with SIR ANDREW.
Why, man, he's a very devil; I
have not seen such a firago. I had a pass with
him, rapier, scabbard and all, and he gives me
the stuck in with such a mortal motion, that it
is inevitable; and on the answer, he pays you
as surely as your feet hit the ground they step
on. They say he has been fencer to the Sophy.
Pox on't, I'll not meddle with him.
Ay, but he will not now be pacified:
Fabian can scarce hold him yonder.
Plague on 't, an I thought he had
been valiant and so cunning in fence, I'ld have
seen him damned ere I'ld have challenged him.
Let him let the matter slip, and I'll give him
my horse, grey Capilet.
I'll make the motion: stand here,
make a good show on't: this shall end without
the perdition of souls. [Aside] Marry, I'll (319)
ride your horse as well as I ride you. Re-enter FABIAN and VIOLA. [To Fab.] I have his horse to take up the
quarrel: I have persuaded him the youth's a
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 sake: marry,
he hath better bethought him of his quarrel,
and he finds that now scarce to be worth talking
of: therefore draw, for the supportance of (330)
his vow; he protests 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.
Give ground, if you see him furious.
Come, Sir Andrew, there's no remedy;
the gentleman will, for his honor's sake,
have one bout with you; he cannot by the
duello avoid it: but he has promised me, as
he is a gentleman and a soldier, he will not (340)
hurt you. Come on; to't.
Pray God, he keep his oath!
I do assure you, 'tis against my will. [They draw. Enter ANTONIO.
Put up your sword. If this young gentleman
Have done offence, I take the fault on me:
If you offend him, I for him defy you.
You, sir! why, what are you?
One, sir, that for his love dares yet do more
Than you have heard him brag to you he will.
Nay, if you be an undertaker, I am (350)
for you. [They draw. Enter Officers.
O good Sir Toby, hold! here come
I'll be with you anon.
Pray, sir, put your sword up, if you please.
Marry, will I, sir; and, for that
I promised you, I'll be as good as my word:
he will bear you easily and reins well.
This is the man; do thy office.
Antonio, I arrest thee at the suit (361)
of Count Orsino.
You do mistake me, sir.
No, sir, no jot; I know your favor well,
Though now you have no sea-cap on your head.
Take him away: he knows I know him well.
I must obey. [To Vio.]
This comes with seeking you:
But there's no remedy; I shall answer it.
What will you do, now my necessity
Makes me to ask you for my purse? It grieves me (370)
Much more for what I cannot do for you
Than what befalls myself. You stand amazed;
But be of comfort.
Come, sir, away.
I must entreat of you some of that money.
What money, sir?
For the fair kindness you have show'd me here,
And, part, being prompted by your present trouble,
Out of my lean and low ability
I'll lend you something: my having is not much;
I'll make division of my present with you:
Hold, there's half my coffer.
Will you deny me now?
Is't possible that my deserts to you
Can lack persuasion? Do not tempt my misery,
Lest that it make me so unsound a man
As to upbraid you with those kindnesses
That I have done for you.
I know of none;
Nor know I you by voice or any feature:
I hate ingratitude more in a man
Than lying, vainness, babbling, drunkenness,
Or any taint of vice whose strong corruption
Inhabits our frail blood.
O heavens themselves!
Come, sir, I pray you, go.
Let me speak a little. This youth that you see here
I snatch'd one half out of the jaws of death,
Relieved him with such sanctity of love,
And to his image, which methought did promise
Most venerable worth, did I devotion.
What's that to us? The time goes by: away!
But O how vile an idol proves this god (400)
Thou hast, Sebastian, done good feature shame.
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.
The man grows mad: away with him! Come, come, sir.
Lead me on. [Exit with Officers.
Methinks his words do from such passion fly,
That he believes himself: so do not I.
Prove true, imagination, O, prove true,
That I, dear brother, be now ta'en for you!
Come hither, knight; come hither,
Fabian: we'll whisper o'er a couplet or two of
most sage saws.
He named Sebastian: I my brother know
Yet living in my glass; even such and so
In favor was my brother, and he went
Still in this fashion, color, ornament,
For him I imitate: O, if it prove,
Tempests are kind and salt waves fresh in love. [Exit.
A very dishonest paltry boy, and
more a coward than a hare: his dishonesty
appears in leaving his friend here in necessity
and denying him; and for his cowardship, ask
A coward, a most devout coward, religious
'Slid, I'll after him again and beat him.
Do; cuff him soundly, but never
draw thy sword. (430)
An I do not,—[Exit.
Come, let's see the event.
I dare lay any money 'twill be
nothing yet. [Exeunt.