as your feet hit the ground they step on: they say, | What will you do? Now my necessity he has been fencer to the Sophy.

Sir And. Pox on't, I'll not meddle with him. Sir To. Ay, but he will not now be pacified: Fabian can scarce hold him yonder.

Sir And. Plague on't; an I thought he had been valiant, and so cunning in fence, I'd have seen him damned ere I'd have challenged him. Let him let the matter slip, and I'll give him my horse, grey Capilet.

Sir To. I'll make the motion: stand here, make a good show on't; this shall end without the perdition of souls: marry, I'll ride your horse as well as I ride you. [Aside.

Re-enter Fabian and Viola.

Makes me to ask you for my purse: It grieves me
Much more, for what I cannot do for you,
Than what befalls myself. You stand amaz'd;

But be of comfort.

2 Off. Come, sir, away.

Ant. I must entreat of you some of that money.
Vio. 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 is half my coffer.
Ant.
Will you deny me now?
Is't possible, that my deserts to you
Lest that it make me so unsound a man,
Can lack persuasion? Do not tempt my misery,

I have his horse [to Fab.] to take up the quarrel;
I have persuaded him, the youth's a devil.
Fab. He is as horribly conceited' of him; and As to upbraid you with those kindnesses
pants, and looks pale, as if a bear were at his That I have done for you.
heels.

Vio.

I know of none;

Sir To. There's no remedy, sir; he will fight Nor know I you by voice, or any feature: with you for his oath sake: marry, he hath better! hate ingratitude more in a man, bethought him of his quarrel, and he finds that now Than lying, vainness, babbling, drunkenness, scarce to be worth talking of: therefore draw, for or any taint of vice, whose strong corruption the supportance of his vow; he protests, he will not Inhabits our frail blood.

hurt you.

Vio. Pray God defend me! A little thing

man.

would make me tell them how much I lack of a
[Aside.
Fab. Give ground, if you see him furious.
Sir To. Come, sir Andrew, there's no remedy;
the gentleman will, for his honour's sake, have one
bout with you: he cannot by the duello2 avoid it;
but he has promised me, as he is a gentleman and
a soldier, he will not hurt you. Come on; to't.
Sir And. Pray God, he keep his oath! [Draws.

Enter Antonio.

Vio. I do assure you, 'tis against my will.

[Draws. Ant. 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. [Drawing.
Sir To. You, sir? why, what are you?

Ant. One, sir, that for his love dares yet do
more,

Than you have heard him brag to you he will.
Sir To. Nay, if you be an undertaker, I am for

you.

Enter two Officers.

[Draws.

Ant.

O heavens themselves!
2 Off. Come, sir, I pray you, go.
Ant. Let me speak a little. This youth that
you see here,

I snatch'd one half out of the jaws of death;
And to his image, which, methought, did promise
Reliev'd him with such sanctity of love,-
Most venerable worth, did I devotion.

1 Off. What's that to us? The time goes by;

away.

Thou hast, Sebastian, done good feature shame.-
Ant. But, O, how vile an idol proves this god!--
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.

1 Of The man grows mad; away with him. Come, come, sir.

Ant. Lead me on. [Ere. Officers, with Antonio.
Vio. 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!

Sir To. Come hither, knight; come hither, Fabian; we'll whisper o'er a couplet or two of most

sage saws.

Vio. He nam'd Sebastian; I my brother know Fab. O good sir Toby, hold; here come the Yet living in my glass; even such and so, officers. In favour was my brother; and he went Still in this fashion, colour, ornament, For him I imitate: O, if it prove, Tempests are kind, and salt waves fresh in love!

Sir To. I'll be with you anon. [To Antonio. Vio. Pray, sir, put up your sword, if you please. [To Sir Andrew. Sir And. 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.

1 Off. This is the man; do thy office. 2 Off. Antonio, I arrest thec at the suit Of count Orsino.

You do mistake me, sir.

Ant.
1 Off. No, sir, no jot; I know your favour well,
Though now you have no sea-cap on your head.-
Take him away; he knows, I know him well.
Ant. I must obey.-This comes with seeking you;
But there's no remedy; I shall answer it.

(1) Horrid conception. Ornamented.

[Exit.

Sir To. 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 Fabian.

Fab. A coward, a most devout coward, religious in it.

Sir And. 'Slid, I'll after him again, and beat him. Sir To. Do, cuff him soundly, but never draw thy sword.

Sir And. An I do not,

Fab. Come, let's see the event.

[Exit.

Sir To. I dare lay any money, 'twill be nothing In this uncivil and unjust extent3

yet.

ACT IV.

4

[Exeunt. Against thy peace. Go with me to my house;
And hear there how many fruitless pranks
This ruffian hath botch'd up, that thou thereby
May'st smile at this: thou shalt not choose, but go;
Do not deny: beshrews his soul for me,
He started one poor heart of mine in thee.

SCENE L-The street before Olivia's house.
Enter Sebastian and Clown.

Clo. Will you make me believe, that I am not sent for you?

Seb. Go to, go to, thou art a foolish fellow; Let me be clear of thee.

Seb. What relish is in this? how runs the stream?
Or I am mad, or else this is a dream :-
Let fancy still my sense in Lethe steep;
If it be thus to dream, still let me sleep!
Oli. Nay, come, I pr'ythee: 'would, thou❜dst be
rul'd by me!

Seb. Madam, I will.
Oli.

Clo. Well held out, i'faith! No, I do not know you; nor I am not sent to you by my lady, to bid you come speak with her; nor your name is not O, say so, and so be! [Exe. master Cesario; nor this is not my nose neither.- SCENE II.—A room in Olivia's house. Enter Nothing, that is so, is so.

Seb. I pr'ythee, vent' thy folly somewhere else; thou know'st not me.

Maria and Clown.

Mar. Nay, I pr'ythee, put on this gown, and Clo. Vent my folly! he has heard that word of this beard; make him believe thou art sir Topas some great man, and now applies it to a fool. the curate; do it quickly: I'll call sir Toby the Vent my folly! I am afraid this great lubber, the whilst. {Exit Maria. world, will prove a cockney.-I pr'ythee now, un- Clo. Well, I'll put it on, and I will dissembles gird thy strangeness, and tell me what I shall vent myself in't; and I would I were the first that ever to my lady; shall I vent to her, that thou art dissembled in such a gown. I am not fat enough coming? to become the function well; nor lean enough to be thought a good student; but to be said, an honest man, and a good housekeeper, goes as fairly, as to say, a careful man, and a great scholar. The competitors' enter.

Seb. I pr'ythee, foolish Greek, depart from me;
There's money for thee; if you tarry longer,
I shall give worse payment.

Clo. By my troth, thou hast an open hand:These wise men, that give fools money, get themselves a good report after fourteen years' purchase.

Enter Sir Andrew, Sir Toby, and Fabian. Sir And. Now, sir, have I met you again? there's for you. [Striking Sebastian. Seb. Why, there's for thee, and there, and there: are all the people mad? [Beating Sir Andrew. Sir To. Hold, sir, or I'll throw your dagger o'er

the house.

Clo. This will I tell my lady straight: I would not be in some of your coats for two-pence.

[Exit Clown. Sir To. Come on, sir; hold. [Holding Seb. Sir And. Nay, let him alone, I'll go another way to work with him; I'll have an action of battery against him, if there be any law in Illyria: though I struck him first, yet it's no matter for that. Seb. Let go thy hand.

Sir To. Come, sir, I will not let you go. Come, my young soldier, put up your iron: you are well fleshed; come on.

Seb. I will be free from thee. What would'st

thou now?

If thou dar'st tempt me further, draw thy sword.
[Draws.
Sir To. What, what? Nay, then I must have
an ounce or two of this malapert blood from you.
[Dravos.
Enter Olivia.

Oli. Hold, Toby; on thy life, I charge thee, hold.
Sir To. Madam?

Oli. Will it be ever thus? Ungracious wretch,
Fit for the mountains, and the barbarous caves,
Where manners ne'er were preach'd! out of my
sight!

Be not offended, dear Cesario:-
Rudesby, be gone!-I pr'ythee, gentle friend,

[Exeunt Sir Toby, Sir Andrew, and Fabian. Let thy fair wisdom, not thy passion, sway

Let out. (2) Rude fellow. (3) Violence
(5) Ill betide.

(4) Made up.

Enter Sir Toby Belch and Maria.
Sir To. Jove bless thee, master parson.

Clo. Bonos dies, sir Toby: for as the old hermit
of Prague, that never saw pen and ink, very wit-
tily said to a niece of king Gorboduc, That, that is,
is: so I, being master parson, am master parson
for what is that, but that? and is, but is?
Sir To. To him, sir Topas.

Clo. What, hoa, I say,-Peace in this prison !
Sir To. The knave counterfeits well; a good

knave.

Mal. [in an inner chamber.] Who calls there?
Malvolio the lunatic.
Clo. Sir Topas, the curate, who comes to visit

Mal. Sir Topas, sir Topas, good sir Topas, go to my lady.

Clo. Out, hyperbolical fiend! how vexest thou this man? talkest thou nothing but of ladies? Sir To. Well said, master parson.

Mal. Sir Topas, never was man thus wronged!good sir Topas, do not think I am mad; they have laid me here in hideous darkness.

Clo. Fie, thou dishonest Sathan! I call thee by the most modest terms: for I am one of those gentle ones, that will use the devil himself with courtesy: say'st thou, that house is dark? Mal. As hell, sir Topas.

8

Clo. Why, it hath bay-windows, transparent as barricadoes, and the clear stones towards the southnorth are as lustrous as ebony; and yet complainest thou of obstruction?

Mal. I am not mad, sir Topas; I say to you, this house is dark.

Clo. Madman, thou crrest: I say, there is no darkness, but ignorance: in which thou art more puzzled, than the Egyptians in their fog.

Mal. I say, this house is as dark as ignorance, though ignorance were as dark as hell; and I say, there was never man thus abused: I am no more

mad than you are; make the trial of it in any constant question.1

Clo. What is the opinion of Pythagoras, concerning wild-fowl?

Mal. That the soul of our grandam might haply inhabit a bird.

Clo. What thinkest thou of his opinion? Mal. I think nobly of the soul, and no way approve his opinion.

Clo. Fare thee well remain thou still in darkness thou shalt hold the opinion of Pythagoras, ere I will allow of thy wits; and fear to kill a woodcock, lest thou dispossess the soul of thy grandam. Fare thee well.

Mal. Sir Topas, sir Topas,

Sir To. My most exquisite sir Topas !
Clo. Nay, I am for all waters.

Mar. Thou might'st have done this without thy!

beard and gown; he sees thee not.

Tell me how thy lady does.

his

I

I

Mal. Believe me, I am not; I tell thee true.
Clo. Nay, I'll ne'er believe a madman, till I see
brains. I will fetch you light, and paper, and ink.
Mal. Fool, I'll requite it in the highest degree :
pr'ythee, be gone.

Clo.

I am gone, sir,
And anon, sir,
I'll be with you again,
In a trice;

Like to the old vice,
Your need to sustain;

Who with dagger of lath,
In his rage and his wrath,
Cries, ah, ha! to the devil:
Like a mad lad,

Pare thy nails, dad,
Adieu, goodman drivel.

[Exit.

Sir To. To him in thine own voice, and bring SCENE III.-Olivia's garden. Enter Sebastian. me word how thou findest him: I would we were Seb. This is the air; that is the glorious sun; well rid of this knavery. If he may be conveni- This pearl she gave me, I do feel't, and see't: ently delivered, I would he were; for I am now so And though 'tis wonder that enwraps me thus, far in offence with my niece, that I cannot pursue Yet 'tis not madness. Where's Antonio then? with any safety this sport to the upshot. Come by could not find him at the Elephant: and by to my chamber. [Exe. Sir Toby and Mar. Yet there he was; and there I found this credit," Clo. Hey, Robin, jolly Robin, That he did range the town to scek me out. [Singing. 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, To any other trust' but that I am mad, And wrangle with my reason, that persuades me Or else the lady's mad; yet, if 'twere so, She could not sway her house, command her followers, 10

Mal. Fool,

Clo. My lady is unkind, perdy.

Mal. Fool,

Clo. Alas, why is she so?

Mal. Fool, I say;

Clo. She loves another-Who calls, ha? Mal. Good fool, as ever thou wilt deserve well at my hand, help me to a candle, and pen, and ink, and paper; as am a gentleman, I will live to be thankful to thee for't.

Clo. Master Malvolio!
Mal. Ay, good fool.

Clo. Alas, sir, how fell you beside your five wits?3 Mal. Fool, there was never man so notoriously abused: I am as well in my wits, fool, as thou art. Clo. But as well? then you are mad, indeed, if you be no better in your wits than a fool.

Mal. They have here propertied me; keep me in darkness, send ministers to me, asses, and do all they can to face me out of my wits.

Clo. Advise you what you say; the minister is here.-Malvolio, Malvolio, thy wits the heavens restore! endeavour thyself to sleep, and leave thy vain bibble babble.

Mal. Sir Topas,—

Clo. Maintain no words with him, good fellow. Who, I, sir? not I, sir. God b'wi'you, good sir Topas. Marry, amen.-I will, sir, I will.

Mal. Fool, fool, fool, I say,

Clo. Alas, sir, be patient. What say you, sir? I am shent for speaking to you.

8

Take, and give back, affairs, and their despatch,
With such a smooth, discreet, and stable bearing,
As, I perceive, she does: there's something in't,
That is deceivable. But here comes the lady.

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,
Into the chantry" by: there, before him,
And underneath that consecrated roof,
Plight me the full assurance of your faith;
That my most jealous and too doubtful soul
May live at peace: he shall conceal it,
Whiles12 you are willing it shall come to note;
What time we will our celebration keep
According to my birth.-What do you say?
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;-
heavens so shine,

-And

Mal. Good fool, help me to some light, and some paper; I tell thee, I am as well in my wits, as any That they may fairly note this act of mine! [Exe. man in Illyria.

Clo. Well a-day,-that you were, sir!

Mal. By this hand, I am: good fool, some ink,

paper, and light, and convey what I will set down

ACT V.

to my lady; it shall advantage thee more than ever SCENE I.-The street before Olivia's house. the bearing of letter did.

Clo. I will help you to't. But tell me true, are you not mad, indeed? or do you but counterfeit ?

(1) Regular conversation.

(2) Any other gem as a topaz. (3) Senses. (4) Taken possession of.

(5) Scolded, reprimanded.

M

Enter Clown and Fabian.

Fab. Now, as thou lovest me, let me see his letter.

(6) A buffoon character in the old plays, and father of the modern harlequin. (7) Account. (8) Reason. (10) Servants. (1) Little chapel.

(9) Belief.

(12) Until.

Clo. Good master Fabian, grant me another re-I know not what 'twas, but distraction. quest.

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?
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

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: From the rude sea's enrag'd and foamy mouth That most ungrateful boy there, by your side, His life I gave him, and did thereto add Did I redeem; a wreck past hope he was: All his in dedication: for his sake, My love, without retention, or restraint, Did I expose myself, pure for his love, Into the danger of this adverse town; Clo. Marry, sir, they praise me, and make an ass Where being apprehended, his false cunning Drew to defend him, when he was beset; of me; now my foes tell me plainly I am an ass: so (Not meaning to partake with me in danger,) that by my foes, sir, I profit in the knowledge of myself; and by my friends I am abused: so that, Taught him to face me out of his acquaintance, conclusions to be as kisses, if your four negatives while one would wink; denied me mine own grew a twenty-years-removed thing, make your two affirmatives, why, then the worse for my friends, and the better for my foes. Duke. Why, this is excellent.

friends.

Clo. No, sir, the worse.

Duke. How can that be?

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, would you could make it another.

Duke. O, you give me ill counsel.

I

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,
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;

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,
(2) Freight.

(1) Mischievous.

And

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
But for thee, fellow, fellow, thy words are madness:
walks on earth.
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
Wherein Olivia may seem serviceable?—
have,
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.
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 be

come 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,

(3) Dull, gross.

Where he sits crowned in his master's spite.- Sir And. Od's lifelings, here he is:-You broke Come boy, with me; my thoughts are ripe in mis-my head for nothing; and that that I did, I was

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.
Come away.
[To Viola.

Duke.

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.
Oli. Alas, it is the baseness of thy fear,
That makes thee strangle thy propriety :'
Fear not, Cesario, take thy fortunes up;
Be that thou know'st thou art, and then thou art
As great as that thou fear'st.-0, welcome, father!
Re-enter Attendant and Priest.

Father, I charge thee, by thy reverence,
Here to unfold (though lately we intended
To keep in darkness, what occasion now
Reveals before 'tis ripe,) what thou dost know,
Hath newly past between this youth and me.

Priest. A contract of eternal bond of love,
Confirmed by mutual joinder of your hands,
Attested by the holy close of lips,

Strengthen'd by interchangement of your rings;
And all the ceremony of this compact
Seal'd in my function, by my testimony:

Since when, my watch hath told me, toward my

grave,

I have travelled but two hours.

Duke. O, thou dissembling cub! what wilt thou be,
When time hath sew'd a grizzle on thy case?2
Or will not else thy craft so quickly grow,
That thine own trip shall be thine overthrow?
Farewell, and take her; but direct thy feet,
Where thou and I henceforth may never meet.
Vio. My lord, I do protest,—
Oli.
O, do not swear:
Hold little faith, though thou hast too much fear.
Enter Sir Andrew Ague-cheek, with his head

broke.

Sir And. He has broke my head across, and has given sir Toby a bloody coxcomb too: for the love of God, your help: I had rather than forty pound, I were at home.

Oli. Who has done this, sir Andrew?

Sir And. The count's gentleman, one Cesario: we took him for a coward, but he's the very devil incardinate.

Duke. My gentleman, Cesario?

Disown thy property. (2) Skin.
Otherways. (4) Serious dancers.

set on to do't by sir Toby.

Vio. Why do you speak to me? I never hurt you: You drew your sword upon me, without cause; But I bespake you fair, and hurt you not.

Sir And. If a bloody coxcomb be a hurt, you have hurt me; I think, you set nothing by a bloody |coxcomb.

Enter Sir Toby Belch, drunk, led by the Clown.

Here comes sir Toby halting, you shall hear more: but if he had not been in drink, he would have tickled you othergates' than he did.

Duke. How now, gentleman? how is't with you? Sir To. That's all one; he has hurt me, and there's the end on't.-Sot, did'st see Dick surgeon, sot?

Clo. O he's drunk, sir Toby, an hour agone; his eyes were set at eight i' the morning.

Sir To. Then he's a rogue. After a passy-measure, or a pavin, I hate a drunken rogue.

Oli. Away with him: who hath made this havoc with them?

Sir And. I'll help you, sir Toby, because we'll be dressed together.

Sir To. Will you help, an ass-head, and a coxcomb, and a knave? a thin-faced knave, a gull? Oli. Get him to bed, and let his hurt be look'd to. [Exeunt Clown, Sir Toby, and Sir Andrew. Enter Sebastian.

Seb. I am sorry, madam, I have hurt your kins

man;

But, had it been the brother of my blood,

I must have done no less, with wit, and safety.
You throw a strange regard upon me, and
By that I do perceive it hath offended you;
Pardon me, sweet one, even for the vows
We made each other but so late ago.

Duke. One face, one voice, one habit, and two
persons?

A natural perspective, that is, and is not.
Seb. Antonio, O my dear Antonio !
How have the hours rack'd and tortur'd me,
Since I have lost thee.

Ant. Sebastian are you?
Seb.
Fear'st thou that, Antonio?
Ant. How have you made division of yourself?
An apple, cleft in two, is not more twin
Than these two creatures. Which is Sebastian?
Oli. Most wonderful!

Seb. Do I stand there? I never had a brother:
Nor can there be that deity in my nature,
Of here and every where. I had a sister,
Whom the blind waves and surges have devour'd:-
Of charity,' what kin are you to me? [To Viola.
What countryman? what name? what parentage?
Vio. Of Messaline: Sebastian was my father;
Such a Sebastian was my brother too,
So went he suited to his watery tomb:
If spirits can assume both form and suit,
You come to fright us.
Seb.
A spirit I am indeed;
But am in that dimension grossly clad,
Which from the womb I did participate.
Were you a woman, as the rest goes even,
should my tears let fall upon your cheek,
And say-Thrice welcome, drowned Viola!
Vio. My father had a mole upon his brow.
Seb. And so had mine.

I

(5) Out of charity tell me.