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Take him a way; he knows, I know him well.

Ant. I must obey. This comes with fecking you ; But there's no remedy. I shall answer ic. What will you do? now my necessity Makes me to ask you for my purse. It grieves me Much more, for what I cannot do for you, Than what befals myself: you stand amaz’d, But be of comfort.

2 Of. Come, Sir, away. Ant. I must intreat of you fome of that mony.

Vio. What Mony, Sir?
For the fair kindness you have shew'd me here,
And part being prompted by your present trouble,
Out of my lean and low ability
I'll lend you something; my Having is not much;
I'll make division of my present with you:
Hold, there's half my coffer.

Ant. Will you deny me' now?
Is't possible, that my deserts to you
Can lack persuasion do not tempe my misery,
Lest that it make me so unfound a man,
As to upbraid you with those kindneffes
That I have done for you.

Vio. I know of none,
Nor know I you by voice, or any feature:
l'hate ingratitude more in a man,
Than lying, vainness, babling drunkenness,
Or any taint of vice, whose strong corruption
Inhabits our frail blood.

Ant. Oh, heav'ns themselves!
2 Of. Come, Sir, I pray you, go.
Ani. Let me speak a little. This youth that you

see here,
I snatch'd one half out of the jaws of death ;
Reliev'd him with such fan&ity of love,
And to his image, which, methought, did promise
Moft venerable worth, did I devotion,

i Off. What's that to us ? the time goes by, away.

Ant. But oh, how vile an idol proves this God!
Thou hast, Sebastian, done good feature shame.
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'erflourish'd by the devil.

i Of The man grows mad, away with him: Come, come, Sir.

Ant, Lead me on. (Exit Anthonio with Officers,

Vio. Methinks, his words do from such paffion fiy, That he believes himself; so 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 bicher, Fabian;" we'll whisper o'er a couplet or two of most fage faws.

Vio. He nam'd Sebastian; I my brother know
Yet living in my glass ; even such, 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 salt waves fresh in love,

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

Fab. A coward, a most 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 sword. Sir And. An I do not,

[Exit Sir Andrew. Fab. Come, let's see the event. Sir To. I dare lay any mony, 'cwill be nothing yet.


... (Exit.

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CLOWN. WILL you make me believe, that I am not

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

Clo. Well held out, i'faith : no, I do not know you, nor I am not sent to you by my Lady, to bid you.come speak with her for your name is not maiter Cesario, nor this is not my nose neither ; nothing, that is so, is fo.

bio Seb. I průythee, vent thy folly somewhere else ; thou know'ít not me.

Clo. Vent my folly!- he has heard that word of some 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 Arangeness and tell me what I shall vent to my Lady shall I 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 shall give worse payment. Clo. By my troth, thou hast an open hand, these


i I pr'ytbet, foolish Greek,) Greek, was as much as to say Bawd or Pander. He understood the Clown to be acting in that ofăce. A bawdy. house was called Corinth, and the frequenters of it Corintbians, which words occur frequently in Shakespear, especially in Timon of Athens, and Henry IVih. See the reason in a note on the former of those plays: Yet the Oxford Editor alters it to Geck.

for you.

wise men, that give fools mony, ? get themselyes 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 Sebastian. 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 straight: I would not be in some of your coats for two pence.

[Exit Clown. Sir To. Come on, Sir ; hold. [Holding Sebastian.

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 soldier, put up your iron ; you are well Besh’d: come on. Seb. I will be free from thee. What wouldlt thou

now? If thou dar'lt tempt me further, draw thy sword.

Sir To. What, what? nay, then, I must have an punce or two of this malapert blood from you.

[They draw and fight.

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2 get themselves a good report after fourteen years' purchase.] This seems to carry a piece of satire 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 suf. pected that money gained favourable reports from thence.


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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 light! Be not offended, dear Cefario: Rudesby, be gone! I proythee, gentle friend,

[Exeunt Sir Toby, and Sir Andrew. Let thy fair wisdom, not thy passion, sway In this uncivil and unjust extent Against thy peace. Go with me to my house, And hear thou there, how many fruitless pranks $ This ruffian hath botch'd up, that thou thereby May'st smile at this: thou shalt not chuse but go: Do not deny; beshrew his soul for me, He started one poor heart of mine in thee.

Seb. What relish is in this ? how runs the stream? Or I am mad, or else this is a dream. Let fancy still my sense in Lethe steep, If it be thus to dream, still let me seep. Oli. Nay, come, I pray: 'would, thou'dít be ruld

by me. Seb. Madam, I will. Oli. O, say so, and so be!


3 This ruffian hath botch'd up,-) i. e. swelled and inflamed. A botch being a swelling or abscess.


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