If you offend him, I for him defy you.
Sir T. You, fir? why, what are you ?

ANT. One, fir, that for his love dares yet do more Than you have heard him brag to you he will.

Sir T. Nay, if you be an undertaker, I am for you. Enter two Officers.

FAB. O, good fir Toby, hold; here come the officers. Sir T. I'll be with you anon. [to Antonio. V10. Pray, fir, put your fword up, if you please. Sir A. Marry, will I, fir: and, for that I promis'd you, I'll be as good as my word; he will bear you easily, and reins well.

1. O. This is the man; do thy office.

2. O. Antonio, I arreft thee at the fuit Of count Orfino.

ANT. You do mistake me, fir.

1. O. No, fir, no jot; I know your favour well, Though now you have no fea-cap on your head : Take him away; he knows, I know him well.

ANT. I must obey. This comes with feeking you; But there's no remedy; I fhall answer it.

What will you do? Now my neceffity

Makes me to afk you for my purfe: It grieves me

Much more, for what I cannot do for you,

Than what befals myself. You ftand amaz’d;
But be of comfort.

2. O. Come, fir, away.
ANT. I muft intreat of

Some of that money back.

you

V10. What money, fir?

For the fair kindness you have fhew'd me here,

And, part, being prompted by your present trouble,

Out of my lean and low ability

I'll lend you fomething: my having is not much;
I'll make division of my present with you:
Hold, There's half my coffer.

ANT. Will you deny me now?
Is't poffible, that my deserts to you

Can lack perfuasion? Do not tempt my misery,
Left that it make me fo unfound a man,
As to upbraid you with those kindnesses
That I have done for you.

V10. I know of none;

Nor know I you by voice, or any feature :
I hate ingratitude more in a man,

Than lying, vainnefs, babling drunkenness,
Or any taint of vice, whose ftrong corruption
Inhabits our frail blood.

ANT. O heavens themselves!

2. O. Come, fir, I pray you, go.

[here,

fee

you

ANT. Let me fpeak a little. This youth, that
I fnatch'd one half out of the jaws of death;
Reliev'd him with fuch fanctity of love,
And to his image, which, methought, did promise
Most venerable worth, did I devotion.

1. O. What's that to us? the time goes by; away. ANT. But, o, how vile an idol proves this god! Thou haft, Sebastian, done good feature shame.. 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'er-flourish'd by the devil. 1. O. The man grows mad; away with him. 2. D. Come, come, fir.

ANT. Lead me on.

[Exeunt Officers with ANT. V10. Methinks, his words do from fuch paffion fly, That he believes himself; fo do not I:

Prove true, imagination, o, prove true,

That I, dear brother, be now ta'en for you!

Sir T. Come hither, knight, come hither, Fabian; we'll whisper o'er a couplet or two of moft fage faws. [converse apart. V10. He nam'd Sebaftian: I my brother know Yet living in my glass; even fuch, and fo, In favour was my brother; and he went Still in this fashion, colour, ornament, For him I imitate: O, if it Tempests are kind, and salt waves fresh in love.

prove,

[Exit VIOLA. Sir T. A very difhoneft paltry boy, and more a coward than a hare : his dishonefty appears, in leaving his friend here in neceffity, and denying him; and for his coward, fhip, afk Fabian.

FAB.
A coward, a moft devout coward, religious in it.
Sir A. 'Slid, I'll after him again, and beat him.
Sir T. Do, cuff him foundly, but never draw thy fword.
Sir A. An I do not,-

FAB. Come, let's fee the event.

[Exit.

Sir T. I dare lay any money, 'twill be nothing yet.

ACT IV.

SCENE I. Street before Olivia's House.

Enter SEBASTIAN, and Clown.

[for you?

Clo. Will you make me believe, that I am not fent

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

Clo. Well held out, i'faith! No, I do not know you; nor I am not fent to you by my lady, to bid you come fpeak with her; nor your name is not master Cefario; nor this is not my nose neither nothing, that is fo, is fo

SEB. I pr'ythee, vent thy folly somewhere else; Thou know'ft not me.

Clo. Vent my folly! He has heard that word of fome great man, and now applies it to a fool. Vent my folly! I am afraid this great lubber the world will prove a cockney. I pr'ythee now, ungird thy ftrangeness, and tell me what I fhall vent to my lady; Shall I vent to her, that thou art coming?

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

Clo. By my troth, thou haft 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 A. Now, fir, have I met you again? there's for

[Striking Sebaftian.

you. SEB. Why, there's for thee, and there, and there,

and there:

Are all the people mad?

Clo.

[ftriking him again.

Sir T. Hold, fir, or I'll throw your daggero'er the house. This will I tell my lady straight: I would not be in fome of your coats for two-pence. [Exit Clown. Sir T. Come on, fir; hold. [holding Sebaftian. Sir A. 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 ftrook him first, yet it's no matter for that.

SEB. Let go thy hand.

Sir T. Come, fir, I will not let you go. Come, my young foldier, put up your iron: you are well flesh'd;

come on.

[now? SEB. I will be free from thee. What would't thou [wrenches from him, and draws.

If thou dar'ft tempt me further, draw thy fword. Sir T. What, what? Nay, then I must have an ounce or two of this malapert blood from you. [draws too.

Enter OLIVIA, hastily.

O11. Hold, Toby; on thy life, I charge thee, hold. Sir T. 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 fight! __ 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 paffion, sway In this uncivil and unjust extent

my

Against thy peace, Go with me to houfe;
And hear thou 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: Befhrew his foul for me,

He started one poor heart of mine in thee.

SEB. What relifh is in this? how runs the ftream?

Or I am mad, or else this is a dream:

Let fancy ftill my fenfe in Lethe fteep;