You must know of me then, Antonio, my name is Sebastian, which I call'd Rodorigo; my father was that Sebastian of Messaline, whom I know you have heard of. He left behind him myself and a sister, both born in an hour. If the heavens had been pleas'd, would we had so ended! But you, sir, alter'd that, for some hour before you took me from the breach of the sea was my sister drown'd.

ANT. Alas the day!

SEB. A lady, sir, though it was said she much resembled me, was yet of many accounted beautiful; but though I could not with such estimable wonder overfar believe that, yet thus far I will boldly publish her: she bore a mind that envy could not but call fair. She is drown'd already, sir, with salt water, though I seem to drown her remembrance again with more.

ANT. Pardon me, sir, your bad entertainment.

SEB. O good Antonio, forgive me your trouble.

ANT. If you will not murther me for my love, let me be your servant.

SEB. If you will not undo what you have done, that is, kill him whom you have recover'd, desire it not. Fare ye well at once; my bosom is full of kindness, and I am yet so near the manners of my mother, that upon the least occasion more mine eyes will tell tales of me. I am bound to the Count Orsino's court. Farewell.

 

Exit.

 

ANT.

The gentleness of all the gods go with thee!

I have many enemies in Orsino's court,

Else would I very shortly see thee there.

But come what may, I do adore thee so

That danger shall seem sport, and I will go.

 

Exit.

 

 

Scene II

Enter Viola and Malvolio at several doors.

 

MAL. Were you not ev'n now with the Countess Olivia?

VIO. Even now, sir; on a moderate pace I have since arriv'd but hither.

MAL. She returns this ring to you, sir. You might have sav'd me my pains, to have taken it away yourself. She adds moreover, that you should put your lord into a desperate assurance she will none of him. And one thing more, that you be never so hardy to come again in his affairs, unless it be to report your lord's taking of this. Receive it so.

VIO. She took the ring of me, I'll none of it.

MAL. Come, sir, you peevishly threw it to her; and her will is, it should be so return'd. If it be worth stooping for, there it lies, in your eye; if not, be it his that finds it.

 

Exit.

 

VIO.

I left no ring with her. What means this lady?

Fortune forbid my outside have not charm'd her!

She made good view of me; indeed so much

That methought her eyes had lost her tongue,

For she did speak in starts distractedly.

She loves me sure, the cunning of her passion

Invites me in this churlish messenger.

None of my lord's ring? Why, he sent her none.

I am the man! If it be so, as 'tis,

Poor lady, she were better love a dream.

Disguise, I see thou art a wickedness

Wherein the pregnant enemy does much.

How easy is it for the proper-false

In women's waxen hearts to set their forms!

Alas, [our] frailty is the cause, not we,

For such as we are made [of,] such we be.

How will this fadge? My master loves her dearly,

And I (poor monster) fond as much on him;

And she (mistaken) seems to dote on me.

What will become of this? As I am man,

My state is desperate for my master's love;

As I am woman (now alas the day!),

What thriftless sighs shall poor Olivia breathe!

O time, thou must untangle this, not I,

It is too hard a knot for me t' untie.

 

[Exit.]

 

 

Scene III

Enter Sir Toby and Sir Andrew.

 

SIR TO. Approach, Sir Andrew. Not to be a-bed after midnight is to be up betimes, and »deliculo surgere,« thou know'st –

SIR AND. Nay, by my troth, I know not; but I know, to be up late is to be up late.

SIR TO. A false conclusion. I hate it as an unfill'd can. To be up after midnight and to go to bed then, is early; so that to go to bed after midnight is to go to bed betimes.