TWELFTH NIGHT. Уильям Шекспир

Than what befalls myself. You stand amaz’d;

       But be of comfort.

       2 OFFICER. Come, sir, away.

       ANTONIO.

       I must entreat of you some of that money.

       VIOLA.

       What money, sir?

       For the fair kindness you have show’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.

       ANTONIO.

       Will you deny me now?

       Is ‘t possible that my deserts to you

       Can lack persuasion? Do not tempt my misery,

       Lest that it make me so unsound a man

       As to upbraid you with those kindnesses

       That I have done for you.

       VIOLA.

       I know of none;

       Nor know I you by voice or any feature.

       I hate ingratitude more in a man

       Than lying, vainness, babbling, drunkenness,

       Or any taint of vice whose strong corruption

       Inhabits our frail blood.

       ANTONIO.

       O heavens themselves!

       2 OFFICER. Come, sir, I pray you, go.

       ANTONIO.

       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 sanctity of love,

       And to his image, which methought did promise

       Most venerable worth, did I devotion.

       1 OFFICER. What ‘s that to us? The time goes by; away!

       ANTONIO.

       But O 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.

       1 OFFICER.

       The man grows mad; away with him!

       Come, come, sir.

       ANTONIO.

       Lead me on.

       [Exit with OFFICERS.]

       VIOLA.

       Methinks his words do from such passion fly

       That he believes himself; so do not I.

       Prove true, imagination, O, prove true,

       That I, dear brother, be now ta’en for you!

       SIR TOBY. Come hither, knight; come hither, Fabian; we ‘ll whisper o’er a couplet or two of most sage saws.

       VIOLA.

       He nam’d Sebastian. I my brother know

       Yet living in my glass; even such and so

       In favour was my brother; and he went

       Still in this fashion, colour, ornament,

       For him I imitate. O, if it prove,

       Tempests are kind, and salt waves fresh in love!

       [Exit.]

       SIR TOBY. A very dishonest paltry boy, and more a coward than a hare: his dishonesty appears in leaving his friend here in necessity and denying him; and for his cowardship, ask Fabian.

       FABIAN.

       A coward, a most devout coward, religious in it.

       SIR ANDREW.

       ‘Slid, I’ll after him again and beat him.

       SIR TOBY.

       Do; cuff him soundly, but never draw thy sword.

       SIR ANDREW.

       And I do not,—

       [Exit.]

       FABIAN.

       Come, let’s see the event.

       SIR TOBY.

       I dare lay any money ‘t will be nothing yet.

       [Exeunt.]

ACT IV.

       Table of Contents

      SCENE I. Before OLIVIA’S house.

       [Enter SEBASTIAN and CLOWN.]

       CLOWN.

       Will you make me believe that I am not sent for you?

       SEBASTIAN.

       Go to, go to, thou art a foolish fellow;

       Let me be clear of thee.

       CLOWN. 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; nor your name is not Master Cesario; nor this is not my nose neither. Nothing that is so is so.

       SEBASTIAN.

       I prithee, vent thy folly somewhere else;

       Thou know’st not me.

       CLOWN. 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 prithee now, ungird thy strangeness, and tell me what I shall vent to my lady; shall I vent to her that thou art coming?

       SEBASTIAN.

       I prithee, foolish Greek, depart from me.

       There ‘s money for thee; if you tarry longer,

       I shall give worse payment.

       CLOWN. By my troth, thou hast an open hand. These wise men that give fools money get themselves a good report after fourteen years’ purchase.

       [Enter SIR ANDREW, SIR TOBY, and FABIAN.]

       SR ANDREW.

       Now, sir, have I met you again? there ‘s for you.

       SEBASTIAN.

       Why, there ‘s for thee, and there, and there.

       Are all the people mad?

       SIR TOBY.

       Hold, sir, or I ‘ll throw your dagger o’er the house.

       CLOWN.

       This will I tell my lady straight. I would not be in some of your

       coats for twopence.

       [Exit.]

       SIR TOBY.

       Come on, sir; hold.

       SIR ANDREW. 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: though I struck him first, yet it ‘s no matter for that.

       SEBASTIAN.

       Let go thy hand.

       SIR TOBY. Come, sir, I will not let you go. Come, my young soldier, put up your