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ly 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 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 expressl myself. You must know of me then, Antonio, my name is Sebastian, which I called Rodorigo; 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.
Ant. The gentleness of all the gods go with thee!
I have many enemies in Orsino's court,
SCENE II-A street. Enter Viola; Malvolio following.
Mal. Were not you even now with the countess Olivia?
Vio. Even now, sir; on a moderate pace I have since arrived but hither.
Mal. She returns this ring to you, sir; you might have saved me my pains, to have taken it away yourself. She adds moreover, that you should put your lord into a desperate assurance she will none of him and one thing more; that you be never so hardy to come again in his affairs, unless it be to report your lord's taking of this. Receive it so.
Vio. She took the ring of me; I'll none of it.
Mal. Come, sir, you peevishly threw it to her; and her will is, it should be so returned: if it be worth stooping for, there it lies in your eye; if not, be it his that finds it.
[Exit. Vio. I left no ring with her: what means this lady?
Fortune forbid, my outside have not charm'd her! She made good view of me; indeed, so much, That, sure, methought, her eyes had lost her tongue,
For she did speak in starts distractedly.
She loves me, sure; the cunning of her passion
Poor lady, she were better love a dream.
[Exit. SCENE III-A room in Olivia's house. Enter Sir Toby Belch, and Sir Andrew Ague-cheek.
Sir To. Approach, sir Andrew: not to be a-bed after midnight, is to be up betimes; and diluculo surgere, thou know'st,
Sir And. Nay, by my troth, I know not: but I know, to be up late, is to be up late.
Sir To. A false conclusion; I hate it as an unfilled can to be up after midnight, and to go to bed then, is early; so that, to go to bed after midnight, is to go to bed betimes. Do not our lives consist of the four elements?
Sir And. 'Faith, so they say; but, I think, it rather consists of eating and drinking.
Sir To. Thou art a scholar; let us therefore eat
and drink.-Maria, I say!— -a stoop of wine!
Sir And. Here comes the fool, i'faith.
Clo. How now, my hearts? Did you never see the picture of we three?!
Sir To. Welcome, ass. Now let's have a catch. Sir And. By my troth, the fool has an excellent breast.2 I had rather than forty shillings I had such a leg; and so sweet a breath to sing, as the fool has. In sooth, thou wast in very gracious fooling last night, when thou spokest of Pigrogromitus, of the Vapians passing the equinoctial of Queubus; 'twas very good, i'faith. I sent thee sixpence for thy leman :3 hadst it?
Clo. I did impeticos thy gratillity:4 for Malvolio's nose is no whipstock: my lady has a white hand, and the myrmidons are no bottle-ale houses.
Sir And. Excellent! Why, this is the best fooling, when all is done. Now, a song.
Sir To. Come on; there is sixpence for you: let's have a song.
Sir And. There's a testril of me too: if one knight give a
Clo. Would you have a love-song, or a song of good life?
Sir To. A love-song, a love-song.
Sir And. Ay, ay; I care not for good life.
Clo. O mistress mine, where are you roaming?
Every wise man's son doth know.
Clo. What is love? 'tis not hereafter;
(1) Loggerheads be. (2) Voice. (3) Mistress. (4) I did impetticoat thy gratuity.
What's to come, is still unsure:
Sir And. A mellifluous voice, as I am true knight.
Sir To. A contagious breath.
Sir And. Very sweet and contagious, i'faith. Sir To. To hear by the nose, it is dulcet in contagion. But shall we make the welkin dance' indeed? Shall we rouse the night-owl in a catch, that will draw three souls out of one weaver? shall we do that?
Sir And. An you love me,
at a catch.
let's do't: I am dog
By'r lady, sir, and some dogs will catch
Sir And. Most certain: let our catch be, Thou knave.
Clo. Hold thy peace, thou knave, knight? I shall be constrain'd in't to call thee knave, knight. Sir And. 'Tis not the first time I have constrain'd one to call me knave. Begin, fool; it begins, Hold thy peace.
Clo. I shall never begin, if I hold my peace.
[They sing a catch.
Mar. What a catterwauling do you keep here! If my lady have not called up her steward, Malvolio, and bid him turn you out of doors, never trust
Sir To. My lady's a Cataian,2 we are politicians; Malvolio's a Peg-a-Ramsey,3 and Three merry men we be. Am not I consanguineous? am I not of her
(1) Drink till the sky turns round. (3) Name of an old song.