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Which I had recommended to his use
Not half an hour before.

How can this be?
Duke. When came he to this town?

Ant. To-day, my lord; and for three months

(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

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

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.

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,

(1) Dull, gross.

Still so cruel?

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-

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.


Oli. Where goes Cesario?
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

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


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


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

(1) Disown thy property.

As great as that thou fear'st.-O, 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.

your rings;

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 And all the ceremony of this compáct 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?! 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. For the love of God, a surgeon; send one presently to sir Toby.

Oli. What's the matter?

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:

(1) Skin.

we took him for a coward, but he's the very devil incardinate.

Duke. My gentleman, Cesario?

Sir And. Od's lifelings, here he is :-You broke my head for nothing; and that that I did, I was 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,2 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.

madam, I have hurt your kins

Seb. I am sorry,


But, had it been the brother of my blood,

(1) Otherways.

(2) Serious dancers.

I must have done no less, with wit, and safety.
You throw a strange regard upon me,
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

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.

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,
I 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.

Vio. And died that day when Viola from her birth Had number'd thirteen years.

(1) Out of charity tell me.

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