And underneath that consecrated roof, 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. Clo. Good master Fabian, grant me another request. Fab. Any thing. Clo. Do not desire to see this letter. Fab. That 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? 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. 5 Whiles] is until, and still so used in the northern counties. 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 [Exit Clown. it anon. 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: That very envy, and the tongue of loss, Cry'd 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; When your young nephew Titus lost his leg: Vio. He did me kindness, sir; drew on my side; Duke. Notable pirate! thou salt-water thief! Hast made thine enemies? Ant. Orsino, noble sir, Be pleas'd that I shake off these names you give me; Though, I confess, on base and ground enough, That most ungrateful boy there, by your side, 6 - scathful, —] i. e. mischievous, destructive. Where being apprehended, his false cunning, While one would wink; denied me mine own purse, 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: 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? lord, Good my Vio. My lord would speak, my duty hushes me. It is as fat and fulsome7 to mine ear, As howling after musick. Duke. Still so cruel? Oli. Still so constant, lord. Duke. What! to perverseness? you uncivil lady, My soul the faithfull'st offerings hath breath'd out, 7 — as fat and fulsome-] Fat means dull. Oli. Even what it please my lord, that shall become him. Duke. Why should I not, had I the heart to do it, 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, you, But this your minion, whom, I know, you love, Where he sits crowned in his master's spite. Come, boy, with me; my thoughts are ripe in mischief: I'll sacrifice the lamb that I do love, To spite a raven's heart within a dove. Vio. And I, most jocund, apt, and willingly, To do you rest, a thousand deaths would die. [Going. [Following. After him I love, Oli. Where goes Cesario? Punish my life, for tainting of my love! Oli. Ah me, detested! how am I beguil'd! Call forth the holy father. Duke. [Exit an Attendant. Come away. [TO VIOLA. Oli. Whither, my lord? Cesario, husband, stay. Duke. Husband? Oli. Duke. Her husband, sirrah? Vio. Ay, husband; Can he that deny? No, my lord, not I. 8 Like to the Egyptian thief, &c.] This Egyptian thief was Thyamis, recorded in Heliodorus' Ethiopics. |