Take him away; he knows, I know him well.
Ant. I muft obey. This comes with fecking you;
But there's no remedy. I fhall anfwer it.
What will you do? now my neceffity

Makes me to ask you for my purfe. It grieves me
Much more, for what I cannot do for you,
Than what befals myfelf: you ftand amaz'd,
But be of comfort.

2 Off Come, Sir, away.

Ant. I muft intreat of you fome of that mony.
Vio. What Mony, Sir?

For the fair kindness you have fhew'd me here,
And part being prompted by your prefent trouble,
Out of my lean and low ability

I'll lend you fomething; my Having is not much;
I'll make divifion of my prefent with you:
Hold, there's half my coffer.

Ant. Will you deny me now?

Is't poffible, that my deserts to you

Can lack perfuafion? do not tempt my misery,
Left that it make me fo unfound a man,"

As to upbraid you with thofe kindneffes
That I have done for you.

Vio. I know of none,

Nor know I you by voice, or any feature:
I hate ingratitude more in a man,

Than lying, vainnefs, babling drunkennefs,
Or any taint of vice, whofe ftrong corruption
Inhabits our frail blood.

Ant. Oh, heav'ns themselves!

2 Off. Come, Sir, I pray you, go.

Ant. Let me fpeak a little. This youth that you
fee here,

I fnatch'd one half out of the jaws of death 3
Reliev'd him with fuch fanctity of love,

And to his image, which, methought, did promife
Moft venerable worth, did I devotion,

1 Off. What's that to us? the time goes by away. Ant. But oh, how vile an idol proves this God! Thou haft, Sebaftian, done good feature fhame. In nature there's no blemish but the mind: None can be call'd deform'd, but the unkind. Virtue is beauty; but the beauteous evil Are empty trunks, o'erflourifh'd by the devil. 1 Off. The man grows mad, away with him: Come, come, Sir.

Ant. Lead me on. [Exit Anthonio with Officers. Vio. Methinks, his words do from fuch paffion fly, That he believes himself, fo do not I:

Prove true, imagination, oh, prove true,
That I, dear brother, be now ta'en for you!

Sir To. Come hither, Knight; come hither, Fabian z
we'll whisper o'er a couplet or two of most fage faws.
Vio. He nam'd Sebaftian; I my brother know.
Yet living in my glass; even fuch, and fo
In favour was my brother; and he went
Still in this fashion, colour, ornament;
For him I imitate: oh, if it prove,

Tempests are kind, and fait waves fresh in love.

[Exity

Sir To. A very difhoneft paltry boy, and more a coward than a hare; his dishonesty appears in leaving his friend here in neceffity, and denying him; and for his cowardship, ask Fabian,

Fab. A coward, a moft devout coward, religious in it.

Sir And. 'Slid, I'll after him again, and beat him. Sir To. Do, cuff him foundly, but never draw thy fword.

Sir And. An I do not,

Fab. Come, let's fee the event.

[Exit Sir Andrew.

Sir To. I dare lay any mony, 'twill be nothing yet.

N 4

Exeunt

ACT

WILL you make me believe, that I am not

fent for you?

Seb. Go to, go to, thou art a foolish fellow. Let me be clear of thee.

Clo. Well held out, l'faith: no, I do not know you, nor I am not fent to you by my Lady, to bid you come fpeak with her; nor your name is not ma fter Cefario, nor this is not my nofe neither; nothing, that is fo, is fo.

Seb. I pr'ythee, vent thy folly fomewhere else; thou know'ft not me.

Clo. Vent my folly! he has heard that word of fome great man, and now applies it to a fool. Vent my folly! I am afraid, this great lubber the world will prove a cockney: I pr'ythee now, ungird thy Atrangeness and tell me what I fhall vent to my Lady; fhall vent to her, that thou art coming

Seb. I pr'ythee, foolish Greek, depart from me there's mony for thee. If you tarry longer, I fhall give worse payment.

Clo. By my troth, thou haft an open hand; these

I pr'ythee, foolish Greek,] Greek, was as much as to fay Bawd or Pander. He understood the Clown to be acting in that office. A bawdy houfe was called Corinth, and the frequenters of it Corinthians, which words occur frequently in Shakespear, especially in Timon of Athens, and Henry IVth. See the reason in a note on the former of thofe plays: Yet the Oxford Editor alters it to Geck.

2

wife men, that give fools mony, get themselves a good report after fourteen years' purchase.

Enter Sir Andrew, Sir Toby, and Fabian.

Sir And. Now, Sir, have I met you again? there's

[Striking Sebaftian.

for you. Seb. Why, there's for thee, and there, and there; are all the people mad? [Beating Sir Andrew. Sir To. Hold, Sir, or I'll throw your dagger o'er the house.

Clo. This will I tell my Lady ftraight: I would not be in fome of your coats for two pence.

[Exit Clown. Sir To. Come on, Sir; hold. [Holding Sebaftian. Sir And. Nay, let him alone, I'll go another way to work with him; i'll have an action of battery against him, if there be any law in Illyria; tho I ftruck him first, yet it's no matter for that.

Seb. Let go thy hand.

Sir To. Come Sir, I will not let you go. Come, my young foldier, put up your iron; you are well Befh'd: come on.

Seb. I will be free from thee. What wouldst thou now?

If thou dar'ft tempt me further, draw thy fword. Sir To. What, what? nay, then, I must have an ounce or two of this malapert blood from you.

[They draw and fight.

2 get themfelves a good report after fourteen years' purchase.] This feems to carry a piece of fatire upon Monopolies, the crying grievance of that time. The Grants generally were for fourteen years; and the petitions being referred to a committee, it was fufpected that money gained favourable reports from thence.

SCENE

SCENE II.

Enter Olivia.

Oli. Hold, Toby; on thy life, I charge thee, hold. Sir To. Madam?

Oli. Will it be ever thus? ungracious wretch, Fit for the mountains and the barbarous caves, Where manners ne'er were preach'd: out of my fight! Be not offended, dear Cefario:

Rudesby, be gone! I pr'ythee, gentle friend,

[Exeunt Sir Toby, and Sir Andrew. Let thy fair wifdom, not thy paffion, fway In this uncivil and unjuft extent

Against thy peace. Go with me to my houfe,
And hear thou there, how many fruitless pranks
This ruffian hath botch'd up, that thou thereby
May'ft smile at this: thou fhalt not chufe but go:
Do not deny; befhrew his foul for me,

He started one poor heart of mine in thee.

Seb. What relifh is in this? how runs the stream? Or I am mad, or else this is a dream.

Let fancy ftill my fenfe in Lethe steep,
If it be thus to dream, ftill let me fleep.

Oli. Nay, come, I pray: 'would, thou'dit be rul'd by me.

Seb. Madam, I will.

Oli. O, fay fo, and fo be!

[Exeunt.

3 This ruffian bath botch'd up,-] i. e. fwelled and inflamed.

A botch being a fwelling or abfcefs.

SCENE