DUKE. Her husband, firrah?

Vio. No, my lord, not I.

OLI. Alas, it is the baseness of thy fear,
That makes thee ftrangle thy propriety:
Fear not, Cefario, take thy fortunes up:

Be that, thou know'ft, thou art, and then thou art
As great as that thou fear'st.

O welcome, father.

Enter Prieft.

Father, I charge thee by thy reverence
Here to unfold (tho' lately we intended
To keep in darkness, what occafion now
Reveals before 'tis ripe) what, thou dost know,
Hath newly paft between this youth and me.

PRIEST, A contract of eternal bond of love,
Confirm'd by mutual joinder of your hands,
Attefted by the holy clofe of lips.

Strengthned by enterchangement 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, tow'rd my grave I have travell'd but two hours.

DUKE. O thou diffembling cub! what wilt thou be, When time hath sow'd a grizzel on thy case? Or will not else thy craft fo quickly grow, That thine own trip shall be thine overthrow? Farewel, and take her; but direct thy feet, Where thou and I henceforth may never meet. Vro. My lord, I do protest

OLI. O, do not swear;

Hold little faith, tho' thou haft too much fear!

SCENE IV. Enter Sir Andrew, with his head broke. Sir AND. For the love of God a furgeon, and send one presently to fir Toby.

OLI. What's the matter?

Sir AND. H'as broke my head a-cross, and given fir Toby a bloody coxcomb too. For the love of God, your help. I had rather than forty pound, I were at home.

OLI. Who has done this, fir Andrew?

Sir AND. The count's gentleman, one Cefario; we took him for a coward, but he's the very devil incardinate.

DUKE. My gentleman, Cefario?

Sir AND Od's lifelings, here he is—you broke my head for nothing; and that that I did, I was fet on to do it by fir Toby.

Vio. Why do you speak to me? I never hurt you:

You drew your fword upon me, without caufe;

But I befpake you fair, and hurt you not.

Enter Sir Toby, and Clown.

Sir AND. If a bloody coxcomb be a hurt, you have hurt me: I think, you fet nothing by a bloody coxcomb. Here comes fir Toby halting, you fhall hear more; but if he had not been in drink, he would have tickled you other-gates than he did.

DUKE. How now, gentleman? how is't with you?

Sir To. That's all one, he has hurt me, and there's an end on't; fot, didft fee Dick furgeon, fot?

CLO. O he's drunk, fir Toby, above an hour agon; his eyes were set at eight i'th' morning.

Sir To. Then he's a rogue, and a paft-measure "Pain"im." I hate a drunken rogue.

OLI. Away with him: who hath made this havock with them?

Sir AND. I'll help you, fir Toby, because we'll be drest together.

Sir To. Will you help an afs-head, and a coxcomb, and a knave, a thin fac'd knave, a gull?

[Exeunt Clo. Sir Toby, and Sir Andrew. OLI. Get him to bed, and let his hurt be look'd to.

SCENE V. Enter Sebastian.

SEB. I am forry, madam, I have hurt your kinfman : But had it been the brother of my blood,

I must have done no lefs with wit and safety.

[All ftand in amaze.

You throw a ftrange regard on me, by which,

I do perceive, it hath offended you;

Pardon me, fweet one, even for the vows

We made each other, but fo late ago.

DUKE. One face, one voice, one habit, and two persons;

A nat❜ral perspective, that is, and is not!

SEB. Antonio, O my dear Antonio!

How have the hours rack'd and tortur'd me,

Since I have loft thee?

ANT. Sebaftian are you?

SEB. Fear'ft thou that, Antonio !

ANT. How have you made divifion of yourself?

An apple, cleft in two, is not more twin

That these two creatures.

OLI. Most wonderful!

Which is Sebastian?

SEB. Do I ftand there? I never had a brother:

Nor can there be that deity in my nature,

Of here and every where. I had a fister,

[To Viola.

Whom the blind waves and furges have devour'd;
Of charity, what kin are you to me?
What countryman ? what name? what parentage?
Vio. Of Meffaline; Sebaftian was my father;
Such a Sebaftian was my brother too:

So went he fuited to his wat'ry tomb.

If fpirits can affume both form and fuit,
You come to fright us.

SEB. A fpirit I am,

indeed;

But am in that dimenfion grofly 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 fay,
"Thrice welcome, drowned Viola !
Vio. My father had a mole upon his brow.

SEB. And fo had mine.

VIO. And dy'd that day, when Viola from her birth

Had number'd thirteen years.

SEB. O, that record is lively in my foul;

He finished, indeed, his mortal act,

That day that made my fifter thirteen years.
V10. If nothing lets to make us happy both,
But this my mafculine ufurp'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 maids weeds; by whofe gentle help
I was preferv'd to ferve this noble duke.
All the occurrence of my fortune fince
Hath been between this lady, and this lord.

SEB. 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.

[To Olivia

DUKE. Be not amaz'd: right-noble is his blood. If this be fo, as yet the glafs feems true,

I shall have share in this most happy wreck.

-Boy, thou haft faid to me a thousand times, [To Viola.
Thou never fhould'ft love woman like to me.

Vio. And all thofe fayings will I over-fwear,
And all thofe fwearings keep as true in foul;
As doth that orbed continent the fire,
That fevers day from night.

DUKE. Give me thy hand,

And let me fee thee in thy woman's weeds.

Vio. The captain, that did bring me first on shore, Hath my maids garments: he upon fome action

Is now in durance, at Malvolio's fuit,

A gentleman and follower of my lady's.

OLI. He shall enlarge him: fetch Malvolio. hither.

And yet, alas, now I remember me,

They fay, poor gentleman! he's much distract.

SCENE VI. Enter the Clown with a letter, and Fabian. A most extracting frenzy of mine own

From my remembrance clearly banish'd his.

How does he, firrah?

CLO. Truly, madam, he holds Belzebub at the stave's end, as well as a man in his cafe may do: h'as here writ a letter to you, I should have given't you to-day morning.