Enter Clown and FABIAN FABIAN Now, as thou lovest me, let me see his letter. Clown Good Master Fabian, grant me another request. FABIAN Any thing. Clown Do not desire to see this letter. FABIAN This is, to give a dog, and in recompense desire my dog again.
Enter DUKE ORSINO, VIOLA, CURIO, and Lords DUKE ORSINO Belong you to the Lady Olivia, friends? Clown Ay, sir; we are some of her trappings. DUKE ORSINO I know thee well; how dost thou, my good fellow? Clown Truly, sir, the better for my foes and the worse for my friends. DUKE ORSINO Just the contrary; the better for thy friends. Clown No, sir, the worse. DUKE ORSINO How can that be? Clown 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 ORSINO Why, this is excellent. Clown By my troth, sir, no; though it please you to be one of my friends. DUKE ORSINO Thou shalt not be the worse for me: there's gold. Clown But that it would be double-dealing, sir, I would you could make it another. DUKE ORSINO O, you give me ill counsel. Clown Put your grace in your pocket, sir, for this once, and let your flesh and blood obey it. DUKE ORSINO Well, I will be so much a sinner, to be a double-dealer: there's another. Clown 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 Saint Bennet, sir, may put you in mind; one, two, three. DUKE ORSINO 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 VIOLA Here comes the man, sir, that did rescue me.
Enter ANTONIO and Officers DUKE ORSINO 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 bawbling 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 loss 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 ORSINO 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 pleased 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 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. VIOLA How can this be? DUKE ORSINO When came he to this town? ANTONIO 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 ORSINO 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 ORSINO 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 ORSINO Still so cruel? OLIVIA Still so constant, lord. DUKE ORSINO 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? OLIVIA Even what it please my lord, that shall become him. DUKE ORSINO 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. 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.
