SCENE I. The Street before OLIVIA'S House. Fab. Now, as thou lovest me, let me see his letter. 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? Clo. Ay, sir; we are some of her trappings. 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 double dealer; there's another. Clo. Primo, secundo, tertio, is a good play; and the old saying is, the third pays for all: the tripler, 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, it may awake my bounty further. Clo. Marry, sir, lullaby to your bounty, till I come again. 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 besmear'd As black as Vulcan, in the smoke of war: A bawbling vessel was he captain of, For shallow draught, and bulk, unprizable: 1 Off. Orsino, this is that Antonio, the matter? That took the Phoenix, and her fraught, from Candy; Vio. He did me kindness, sir; drew on my side; 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? Ant. Orsino, noble sir, Though, I confess, on base and ground enough, While one would wink; denied me mine own purse, Not half an hour before. 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: 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. 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 breath'd out, Oli. Even what it please my lord, that shall become him. Duke. Why should I not, had I the heart to do it, That sometime savours nobly?-But hear me this: That screws me from my true place in your favour, 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. Vio. And I, most jocund, apt, and willingly, To do you rest, a thousand deaths would die. Oli. Where goes Cesario? [Going. [Following. After him I love, Vio. Punish my life, for tainting of my love! Oli. Ah me, detested! how am I beguil'd! Vio. Who does beguile you? who does do you wrong? Duke. [Exit an Attendant. Come away. [To Viola. Oli. Whither, my lord?-Cesario, husband, stay. Duke. Husband? Oli. Ay, husband; Can he that deny? Duke. Her husband, sirrah? No, my lord, not I. Vio. Be that thou know'st thou art, and then thou art Re-enter Attendant and Priest. Father, I charge thee, by thy reverence, Strengthen'd by interchangement of your rings; |