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ACT V.

Scene I. — The Street before Olivia's House. Enter Clown and Fabian.

Fabian.

NOW, as thou lov'st me, let me see his letter. Clo. Good Master Fabian, grant me another request.

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, and Attendants. Duke. Belong you to the Lady Olivia, friends?Clo. Ay, sir; we are some of her trappings. 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 double dealer; 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 St. 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 Clown.

Enter Antonio and Officers.

Vio. Here comes the man, sir, that did rescue me.

Duke. That face of his I do remember well;
Yet when I saw it last, it was besmear'd
As black as Vulcan, in the smoke of war:
A bawbling vessel was he captain of,
For shallow draught and bulk, unprizable;
With which such scathful grapple did he make
With the most noble bottom of our fleet,

That very envy, and the tongue of loss, Cried fame and honour on him. — What's the matter?

1 Off. Orsino, this is that Antonio That took the Phoenix, and her fraught, from Candy; And this is he that did the Tiger board, When your young nephew Titus lost his leg: Here in the streets, desperate of shame and state, In private brabble did we apprehend him.

Vio. He did me kindness, sir, drew on my side; But, in conclusion, put strange speech upon me. I know not what 'twas, but distraction.

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,
Orsino's enemy. A witchcraft drew me hither:
That most ingrateful boy, there, by your side,
From the rude sea's enrag'd and foamy mouth
Did I redeem: a wrack past hope he was:
His life I gave him, and did thereto add
My love, without retention or restraint;
All his in dedication: for his sake
Did I expose myself, (pure for his love,)
Into the danger of this adverse town;
Drew to defend him when he was beset;
Where being apprehended, his false cunning,
(Not meaning to partake with me in danger,)
Taught him to face me out of his acquaintance,
And grew a twenty-years-removed thing,
While one would wink; deni'd me mine own purse,
Which I had recommended to his use
Not half an hour before.

Vio. How can this be?

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.

Enter Olivia and Attendants.

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.

Oli. What would my lord, but that he may not have, Wherein Olivia may seem serviceable ? — Cesario, you do not keep promise with me.

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.

Duke. 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, That e'er devotion tender'd! What shall I do?

Oli. Even what it please my lord, that shall become him.

Duke. Why should I not, had I the heart to do it,

Like to the Egyptian thief, at point of death,
Kill what I love; a savage jealousy,
That sometime savours nobly ? — But hear me this:
Since you to non-regardance cast my faith,
And that I partly know the instrument
That screws me from my true place in your favour,
Live you, the marble-breasted tyrant, still;
But this your minion, whom I know you love,
And whom, by Heaven I swear, I tender dearly,
Him will I tear out of that cruel eye,
Where he sits crowned in his master's spite.
Come, boy, with me; my thoughts are ripe in mis-
chief;I'll sacrifice the lamb that I do 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,
More, by all mores, than e'er I shall love wife:
If I do feign, you witnesses above
Punish my life for tainting of my love!

Oli. Ah me, detested! how am I beguil'd!

Vio. Who does beguile you? who does do you wrong?

Oli. Hast thou forgot thyself? Is it so long? Call forth the holy Father. [Exit an Attendant. Duke. Come away. [To Viola.

Oli. Whither, my lord? Cesario, husband, stay. Duke. Husband?

Oli. Ay, husband, can he that deny?

Duke. Her husband, sirrah?

Vio. No, my lord, not I.

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