The Complete Works of William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare (moboreader .TXT) 📕

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.

CLOWN. 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 Enter ANTONIO and OFFICERS

VIOLA. 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 baubling 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 los

Cried fame and honour on him. What’s the matter?

FIRST OFFICER. 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.

VIOLA. 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?

ANTONIO. Orsino, noble sir,

Be pleas’d 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 ingrateful boy there by your side From the rude sea’s enrag’d and foamy mouth Did I redeem; a wreck past hope he was.

His life I gave him, and did thereto ad 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.

VIOLA. How can this be?

DUKE. When came he to this town?

ANTONIO. To-day, my lord; and for three months before, No int’rim, 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.

OLIVIA. What would my lord, but that he may not have, Wherein Olivia may seem serviceable?

Cesario, you do not keep promise with me.

VIOLA. Madam?

DUKE. Gracious Olivia—

OLIVIA. What do you say, Cesario? Good my lord-VIOLA. My lord would speak; my duty hushes me.

OLIVIA. 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?

OLIVIA. Still so constant, lord.

DUKE. What, to perverseness? You uncivil lady, To whose ingrate and unauspicious altars My soul the faithfull’st off’rings hath breath’d out That e’er devotion tender’d! What shall I do?

OLIVIA. 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 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 mischief: I’ll sacrifice the lamb that I do love To spite a raven’s heart within a dove.

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

OLIVIA. Where goes Cesario?

VIOLA. 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!

OLIVIA. Ay me, detested! How am I beguil’d!

VIOLA. Who does beguile you? Who does do you wrong?

OLIVIA. Hast thou forgot thyself? Is it so long?

Call forth the holy father. Exit an ATTENDANT

DUKE. Come, away!

OLIVIA. Whither, my lord? Cesario, husband, stay.

DUKE. Husband?

OLIVIA. Ay, husband; can he that deny?

DUKE. Her husband, sirrah?

VIOLA. No, my lord, not I.

OLIVIA. 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.

Enter 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,

Strength’ned 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.

VIOLA. My lord, I do protest—

OLIVIA. O, do not swear!

Hold little faith, though thou has too much fear.

Enter SIR ANDREW

AGUECHEEK. For the love of God, a surgeon!

Send one presently to Sir Toby.

OLIVIA. What’s the matter?

AGUECHEEK. 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.

OLIVIA. Who has done this, Sir Andrew?

AGUECHEEK. The Count’s gentleman, one Cesario. We took him for a coward, but he’s the very devil incardinate.

DUKE. My gentleman, Cesario?

AGUECHEEK. Od’s lifelings, here he is! You broke my head for nothing; and that that did, I was set on to do’t by Sir Toby.

VIOLA. 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.

Enter SIR TOBY and CLOWN

AGUECHEEK. If a bloody coxcomb be a hurt, you have hurt me; I think you set nothing by a bloody coxcomb. Here comes Sir Toby halting; you shall hear more; but if he had not been in drink, he would have tickl’d you othergates than he did.

DUKE. How now, gentleman? How is’t with you?

SIR TOBY. That’s all one; has hurt me, and there’s th’ end on’t.

Sot, didst see Dick Surgeon, sot?

CLOWN. O, he’s drunk, Sir Toby, an hour agone; his eyes were set at eight i’ th’ morning.

SIR TOBY. Then he’s a rogue and a passy measures pavin. I hate a drunken rogue.

OLIVIA. Away with him. Who hath made this havoc with them?

AGUECHEEK. I’ll help you, Sir Toby, because we’ll be dress’d together.

SIR TOBY. Will you help-an ass-head and a coxcomb and a knave, a thin fac’d knave, a gull?

OLIVIA. Get him to bed, and let his hurt be look’d to.

Exeunt CLOWN, FABIAN, SIR TOBY, and SIR ANDREW

Enter SEBASTIAN

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

SEBASTIAN. Antonio, O my dear Antonio!

How have the hours rack’d and tortur’d me Since I have lost thee!

ANTONIO. Sebastian are you?

SEBASTIAN. Fear’st thou that, Antonio?

ANTONIO. How have you made division of yourself?

An apple cleft in two is not more twin Than these two creatures. Which is Sebastian?

OLIVIA. Most wonderful!

SEBASTIAN. 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 devour’d.

Of charity, what kin are you to me?

What countryman, what name, what parentage?

VIOLA. 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.

SEBASTIAN. 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!’

VIOLA. My father had a mole upon his brow.

SEBASTIAN. And so had mine.

VIOLA. And died that day when Viola from her birth Had numb’red thirteen years.

SEBASTIAN. O, that record is lively in my soul!

He finished indeed his mortal act

That day that made my sister thirteen years.

VIOLA. If nothing lets 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 preserv’d to serve this noble Count.

All the occurrence of my fortune since Hath been between this lady and this lord.

SEBASTIAN. [To OLIVIA] So Comes it, lady, you have been mistook; But nature to her bias drew in that.

You would have been contracted to a maid; Nor are you therein, by my life, deceiv’d; You are betroth’d both to a maid and man.

DUKE. Be not amaz’d; right noble is his blood.

If this be so, as yet the glass seems true, I shall have share in this most happy wreck.

[To VIOLA] Boy, thou hast said to me a thousand times Thou never shouldst love woman like to me.

VIOLA. And all those sayings will I overswear; And all those swearings keep as true in soul As doth that orbed continent the fire That severs day from night.

DUKE. Give me thy hand;

And let me see thee in thy woman’s weeds.

VIOLA. 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.

OLIVIA. He shall enlarge him. Fetch Malvolio hither; And yet, alas, now I remember me,

They say, poor