Who with dagger of lath, Pare thy nails, dad, Adieu, goodman devil. SCENE III. Olivia's Garden. Enter SEBASTIAN. Seb. This is the air; that is the glorious sun; Yet there he was; and there I found this credit, Or else the lady's mad; yet, if 'twere so, [Exit. She could not sway her house, command her followers, Enter OLIVIA and a Priest. Oli. Blame not this haste of mine: If you mean well, Now, go with me, and with this holy man, Into the chantry by: there, before him, And underneath that consecrated roof, vens so shine, That they may fairly note this act of mine! -and hea [Exeunt. ACT V. SCENE I. The Street before Olivia's House. Enter Clown and FABIAN. Fab. Now, as thou lovest me, let me see his letter. Clo. Good master Fabian, grant me another request. Fab. Any thing. Clo. Do not desire to see this letter. Fab. That is, to give a dog, and, in recompense, desire my dog again. Enter Duke, VIOLA, and Attendants. Duke. Belong you to the lady Olivia, friends? Duke. I know thee well; how dost thou, my good fellow? Clo. Truly, sir, the better for my foes, and the worse for my friends. Duke. Just the contrary; the better for thy friends. Clo. No, sir, the worse. Duke. How can that be? Clo. Marry, sir, they praise me, and make an ass of me; now 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 doubledealer; 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, 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. Yet, when I saw it last, it was besmeared For shallow draught, and bulk, unprizable; Cried fame and honor on him. - What's the matter? That took the Phoenix and her fraught, from Candy; Here in the streets, desperate of shame and state, Vio. He did me kindness, sir; drew on my side; Duke. Notable pirate! thou salt-water thief! Hast made thine enemies? Ant. Orsino, noble sir, Be pleased that I shake off these names you give me. Though, I confess, on base and ground enough, (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, 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: But more of that anon. 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? lord, Good my Vio. My lord would speak; my duty hushes me. 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, Oli. Even what it please my lord, that shall become him. Duke. Why should I not, had I the heart to do it, Like the Egyptian thief, at point of death, Kill what I love; a savage jealousy, That sometimes savors nobly?-But hear me this: That screws me from my true place in your favor, 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: To spite a raven's heart within a dove. Oli. Where goes Cesario? [Going. [Following. After him I love, More than I love these eyes, more than my life, Punish my life for tainting of my love! Oli. Ah me, detested! how am I beguiled! Vio. Who does beguile you? Who does do you wrong Oli. Hast thou forgot thyself! Is it so long!Call forth the holy father. [Exit an Attendant. Duke. Come away. [To VIOLA. 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. Be that thou know'st thou art, and then thou art Father, I charge thee by thy reverence, Strengthened by interchangement of your rings; Sealed in my function, by my testimony: Since when, my watch hath told me, toward my grave I have travelled but two hours. Duke. O, thou dissembling cub! What wilt thou be, When time hath sowed a grizzle on thy case? |