SCENE I
The sea-coast.Enter ANTONIO and SEBASTIAN.
Ant.
Will you stay no longer? nor will you
not that I go with you?
Seb.
By your patience, no. My stars shine
darkly over me: the malignancy of my fate
might perhaps distemper yours; therefore I
shall crave of you your leave that I may bear
my evils alone: it were a bad recompense for
your love, to lay any of them on you.
Ant.
Let me yet know of you whither you (10)
are bound.
Seb.
No, sooth, sir: my determinate voyage
is mere extravagancy. But I perceive in
you so excellent a touch of modesty, that you
will not extort from me what I am willing to
keep in; therefore it charges me in manners
the rather to express myself. You must know
of me then, Antonio, my name is Sebastian,
which I called Roderigo. My father was that
Sebastian of Messaline, whom I know you
have heard of. He left behind him myself and
a sister, both born in an hour: if the heavens
had been pleased, would we had so ended!
but you, sir, altered that; for some hour before
you took me from the breach of the sea
was my sister drowned.
Ant.
Alas the day!
Seb.
A lady, sir, though it was said she
much resembled me, was yet of many accounted
beautiful: but, though I could not
with such estimable wonder overfar believe
that, yet thus far I will boldly publish her; she
bore a mind that envy could not but call fair.
She is drowned already, sir, with salt water,
though I seem to drown her remembrance
again with more.
Ant.
Pardon me, sir, your bad entertainment.
Seb.
O good Antonio, forgive me your trouble.
Ant.
If you will not murder me for my
love, let me be your servant.
Seb.
If you will not undo what you have
done, that is, kill him whom you have recovered,
desire it not. Fare ye well at once: my
bosom is full of kindness, and I am yet so
near the manners of my mother, that upon the
least occasion more mine eyes will tell tales of
me. I am bound to the Count Orsino's court: farewell. [Exit.
Ant.
The gentleness of all the gods go with thee!
I have many enemies in Orsino's court,
Else would I very shortly see thee there.
But, come what may, I do adore thee so, (49)
That danger shall seem sport, and I will go. [Exit.
