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 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,

Cried 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,
I know not what 'twas, but distraction.

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 pleased 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:
That most ungrateful boy, there, by your side,
From the rude sea's enraged and foamy mouth
Did I redeem; a wreck past hope he was:
His life I gave him, and did thereto add
My love, without retention, or restraint,
All his in dedication: for his sake,
Did I expose myself, pure for his love,
Into the danger of this adverse town;
Drew to defend him, when he was beset;
Where being apprehended, his false cunning
(Not meaning to partake with me in danger)
Taught him to face me out of his acquaintance,
And grew a twenty-years-removed thing,

While one would wink; denied me mine own 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 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 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 ?

-Good, my lord,

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 breathed 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,

* Dull, gross.

Kill what I love; a savage jealousy,

That sometimes 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 crown'd 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. 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 beguiled!

[Going.

[Following.

Vio. Who does beguile you? who does do you wrong? Oli. Hast thou forgot thyself! Is it so long!--Call forth the holy father.

Duke. Come away.

[Exit an Attendant.

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.-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 pass'd between this youth and me.
Priest. A contract of eternal bond of love,
Confirm'd 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:

[TO VIOLA.

Since when, my watch hath told me, toward my grave,
I have travell'd but two hours.

* Disown thy property.

Duke. O, thou dissembling cub! what wilt thou be,
When time hath sow'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 pounds 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!

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, didst 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 dress'd 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 looked to.

[Exeunt CLOWN, SIR TOBY, and SIR ANDREW.

Enter SEBASTIAN.

Seb. I am sorry, Madam, I have hurt your kinsman; But, had it been the brother of my blood,

* Skin.

+ Otherways.

Serious dances.

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 tortured 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 everywhere. I had a sister,

Whom the blind waves and surges have devoured :-
Of charity, what kin are you to me?

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,
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.

[TO VIOLA,

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

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 letst to make us happy both,

But this my masculine usurp'd attire,
Do not embrace me, till each circumstance
Of place, time, fortune, do cohere, and jump,
That I am Viola: which to confirm,

I'll bring you to a captain in this town,

Where lie my maiden weeds; by whose gentle help
I was preserved, to serve this noble count:
All the occurrence of my fortune since
Hath been between this lady and this lord.
Seb. So comes it, lady, you have been mistook:

* Out of charity tell me.

[TO OLIVIA.

+ Hinders.