Antonio never yet was thief or pirate,
Though, I confess, on base and ground enough,
A witchcraft drew me hither:

Orsino's enemy.

That most ingrateful 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 mad

ness:

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,
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 crowned 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.

[Going.

Vio. And I, most jocund, apt, and willingly, To do you rest, a thousand deaths would die.

[Following.

After him I love,

Oli. Where goes Cesario? Vio. 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! Vio. Who does beguile you? who does you wrong?

Oli. Hast thou forgot thyself? Is it so long? Call forth the holy father.

Duke. [to VIOLA.]

Oli. Whither, my lord?

stay.

Duke. Husband?

Oli.

[Exit an Attendant. Come, away.

Cesario, 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 As great as that thou fear'st.

Re-enter Attendant, and Priest.

O, welcome, father!

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:

Since when, my watch hath told me, toward my grave

I have travell'd but two hours.

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 AGUECHEEK, 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: 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, ycu have hurt me; I think you set nothing by a bloody coxcomb.

Enter Sir TOBY BELCII, 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; h'as 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 and a passy-measures 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 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 looked [Exeunt Clown, FABIAN, Sir TOBY, and Sir ANDREW.

to.

Enter SEBASTIAN.

Seb. I am sorry, madam, I have hurt your kins

my blood,

I must have done no less, with wit, and safety.