Twelfth Night, William Shakespeare [top 100 novels .txt] 📗
- Author: William Shakespeare
Book online «Twelfth Night, William Shakespeare [top 100 novels .txt] 📗». Author William Shakespeare
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.
Let me speak a little. This youth that you see here
I snatch’d one half out of the jaws of death,
Relieved him with such sanctity of love,
And to his image, which methought did promise
Most venerable worth, did I devotion.
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.
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!
He named 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.
Before Olivia’s house.
Enter Sebastian and Clown. Clown Will you make me believe that I am not sent for you? SebastianGo to, go to, thou art a foolish fellow:
Let me be clear of thee.
I prithee, vent thy folly somewhere else:
Thou know’st not me.
I prithee, foolish Greek, depart from me:
There’s money for thee: if you tarry longer,
I shall give worse payment.
Why, there’s for thee, and there, and there.
Are all the people mad?
I will be free from thee. What wouldst thou now?
If thou darest tempt me further, draw thy sword.
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 sight!
Be not offended, dear Cesario.
Rudesby, be gone! Exeunt Sir Toby, Sir Andrew, and Fabian. I prithee, gentle friend,
Let thy fair wisdom, not thy passion, sway
In this uncivil and thou 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
Mayst smile at this: thou shalt not choose but go:
Do not deny. Beshrew his soul for me,
He started one poor heart of mine in thee.
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 sleep!
Olivia’s house.
Enter Maria and Clown. Maria Nay, I prithee, put on this gown and this beard; make him believe thou art Sir Topas the curate: do it quickly; I’ll call Sir Toby the whilst. Exit. Clown Well, I’ll put it on, and I will dissemble myself in’t; and I would I were the first that ever dissembled in such a gown. I am not tall enough to become the function well, nor lean enough to be thought a good student; but
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