SCENE III. OLIVIA's garden. Enter SEBASTIAN. Seb. This is the air; that is the glorious sun; This pearl she gave me, I do feel 't and see't: And though 'tis wonder that enwraps me thus, Yet 'tis not madness. Where's Antonio, then? I could not find him at the Elephant: Yet there he was; and there I found this credit, That he did range the town to seek me out. His counsel now might do me golden service; For though my soul disputes well with my sense, That this may be some error, but no madness, Yet doth this accident and flood of fortune So far exceed all instance, all discourse, That I am ready to distrust mine eyes, And wrangle with my reason, that persuades me To any other trust but that I am mad, Or else the lady's mad; yet, if 'twere so, She could not sway her house, command her followers, Take and give back affairs, and their dispatch, With such a smooth, discreet, and stable bearing, As I perceive she does: there's something in 't That is deceivable. But here the lady comes. Enter OLIVIA and a Priest. Oli. Blame not this haste of mine. If you mean well, Now go with me and with this holy man Seb. I'll follow this good man, and go with you; And, having sworn truth, ever will be true. Oli. Then lead the way, good father; and heavens so shine, That they may fairly note this act of mine! [Exeunt. ACT V. SCENE I. The street before OLIVIA's house. Enter Clown and FABIAN. Fab. Now, as thou lovest me, let me see his letter. Fab. Any thing. Clo. Do not desire to see this letter. Fab. This is, to give a dog, and, in recompense, desire my dog again. Enter Duke, VIOLA, CURIO, and Attendants. Duke. Belong you to the Lady Olivia, friends? Duke. I know thee well: how dost thou, my good fellow? Clo. Truly, sir, the better for my foes, and the worse for my friends. Duke. Just the contrary; the better for thy friends. Clo. No, sir, the worse. Duke. How can that be? Clo. Marry, sir, they praise me, and make an ass of me; now my foes tell me plainly I am an ass: so that by my foes, sir, I profit in the knowledge of myself; and by my friends I am abused: so that, conclusions to be as kisses, if your four negatives make your two affirmatives, why, then, the worse for my friends, and the better for my foes. Duke. Why, this is excellent. Clo. By my troth, sir, no; though it please you to be one of my friends. Duke. Thou shalt not be the worse for me: there's gold. Clo. But that it would be double-dealing, sir, I would you could make it another. Duke. O, you give me ill counsel. Clo. Put your grace in your pocket, sir, for this once, and let your flesh and blood obey it. Duke. Well, I will be so much a sinner to be a doubledealer: there's another. Clo. Primo, secundo, tertio, is a good play; and the old saying is, the third pays for all: the triplex, sir, is a good tripping measure; or the bells of Saint Bennet, sir, may put you in mind,-one, two, three. Duke. You can fool no more money out of me at this throw: if you will let your lady know I am here to speak with her, and bring her along with you, it may awake my bounty further. Clo. Marry, sir, lullaby to your bounty till I come again. I go, sir; but I would not have you to think that my desire of having is the sin of covetousness: but, as you say, sir, let your bounty take a nap, I will awake it anon. [Exit. Vio. Here comes the man, sir, that did rescue me. Enter Officers, with ANTONIO. Duke. That face of his I do remember well; Yet, when I saw it last, it was besmear'd Cried fame and honour on him. - What's the matter? First Off. Orsino, this is that Antonio That took the Phoenix and her fraught from Candy; Vio. He did me kindness, sir; drew on my side; Duke. Notable pirate! thou salt-water thief! What foolish boldness brought thee to their mercies, Whom thou, in terms so bloody and so dear, Hast made thine enemies? Ant. Orsino, noble sir, Be pleas'd that I shake off these names you give me : Antonio never yet was thief or pirate, Though, I confess, on base and ground enough, While one would wink; denied me mine own purse, Which I had recommended to his use Not half an hour before. Duke. When came he to this town? Ant. To-day, my lord; and for three months before (No interim, not a minute's vacancy) Both day and night did we keep company. Duke. Here comes the countess: now heaven walks on earth. But for thee, fellow, fellow, thy words are madness : Three months this youth hath tended upon me; But more of that anon. -Take him aside. Enter OLIVIA and Attendants. Oli. What would my lord, but that he may not have, Wherein Olivia may seem serviceable ?— Vio. Madam! Duke. Gracious Olivia, Oli. What do you say, Cesario? - Good my lord, Vio. My lord would speak; my duty hushes me. Oli. If it be aught to the old tune, my lord, It is as fat and fulsome to mine ear As howling after music. Still so cruel? Oli. Still so constant, lord. Duke. What, to perverseness? you uncivil lady, To whose ingrate and unauspicious altars My soul the faithfull'st offerings hath breath'd out Oli. Even what it please my lord, that shall become him. Like to the Egyptian thief at point of death, That sometime savours nobly. - But hear me this: And that I partly know the instrument That screws me from my true place in your favour, But this your minion, whom I know you love, To spite a raven's heart within a dove. [Going. Vio. And I, most jocund, apt, and willingly, To do you rest, a thousand deaths would die. [Following. Oli. Where goes Cesario? Vio. After him I love More than I love these eyes, more than my life, Oli. Aye me, detested! how am I beguil'd! Vio. Who does beguile you? who does do you wrong? |