I must have done no less, with wit, and safety. Duke. One face, one voice, one habit, and two A natural perspective, that is, and is not. How have the hours rack'd and tortur'd me, 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. Oli. Most wonderful! Which is Sebastian? Seb. Do I stand there? I never had a brother: So went he suited to his watery tomb: Seb. Vio. And died that day when Viola from her birth Had number'd thirteen years. (1) Out of charity tell me. Seb. O, that record is lively in my soul! He finished, indeed, his mortal act, That day that made my sister thirteen years. Vio. If nothing lets to make us happy both, But this my masculine usurp'd attire, Do not embrace me, till each circumstance I'll bring you to a captain in this town, But nature to her bias drew in that. Duke. Give me thy hand; And let me see thee in thy woman's weeds. Vio. The captain, that did bring me first on shore, Hath my maid's garments: he, upon some action, Is now in durance; at Malvolio's suit, A gentleman, and follower of my lady's. Öli. He shall enlarge him :-Fetch Malvolio hither: And yet, alas, now I remember me, (1) Hinders. I must have done no less, with wit, and safety. Duke. One face, one voice, one habit, and two A natural perspective, that is, and is not. How have the hours rack'd and tortur'd me, 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: Seb. Vio. And died that day when Viola from her birth Had number'd thirteen years. (1) Out of charity tell me. Seb. O, that record is lively in my soul! He finished, indeed, his mortal act, That day that made my sister thirteen years. Do not embrace me, till each circumstance But nature to her bias drew in that. [To Viola. Duke. Give me thy hand; And let me see thee in thy woman's weeds. Vio. The captain, that did bring me first on shore, Hath maid's my garments: he, upon some action, Is now in durance; at Malvolio's suit, A gentleman, and follower of my lady's. Öli. He shall enlarge him:-Fetch Malvolio hither: And yet, alas, now I remember me, (1) Hinders. They say, poor gentleman, he's much distract. Re-enter Clown, with a letter. A most extracting frenzy of mine own Clo. Truly, madam, he holds Belzebub at the stave's end, as well as a man in his case may do: he has here writ a letter to you; I should have given it you to-day morning; but as a madman's epis tles are no gospels, so it skills not much, when they are delivered. Oli. Open it, and read it. Clo. Look then to be well edified, when the fool delivers the madman :-By the Lord, madam,— Oli. How now! art thou mad? Clo. No, madam, I do but read madness: an your ladyship will have it as it ought to be, you must allow vox.1 Oli. Pr'ythee, read i' thy right wits. Clo. So I do, madonna; but to read his right wits, is to read thus: therefore perpend,2 my princess, and give ear. Oli. Read it you, sirrah. [To Fabian. Fab. [reads. By the Lord, madam, you wrong me, and the world shall know it: though you have put me into darkness, and given your drunken cousin rule over me, yet have 1 the benefit of my senses as well as your ladyship. I have your own letter that induced me to the semblance I put on; with the which I doubt not but to do myself much right, or you much shame. Think of me as you please. I leave my duty a little unthought of, and speak out of my injury. The madly-used Malvolio. Oli. Did he write this? Clo. Ay, madam. Duke. This savours not much of distraction. |