William Shakespeare (15641616). The Oxford Shakespeare. 1914. | | |
Twelfth-Night; or, What You Will | | Act II. Scene I. |
| The Sea-coast. | |
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Enter ANTONIO and SEBASTIAN. | |
Ant. Will you stay no longer? nor will you not that I go with you? | |
Seb. By your patience, no. My stars shine darkly over me; the malignancy of my fate might, perhaps, distemper yours; therefore I shall crave of you your leave that I may bear my evils alone. It were a bad recompense for your love to lay any of them on you. | |
Ant. Let me yet know of you whither you are bound. | 5 |
Seb. No, sooth, sir: my determinate voyage is mere extravagancy. But I perceive in you so excellent a touch of modesty that you will not extort from me what I am willing to keep in; therefore, it charges me in manners the rather to express myself. You must know of me then, Antonio, my name is Sebastian, which I called Roderigo. My father was that Sebastian of Messaline, whom I know you have heard of. He left behind him myself and a sister, both born in an hour: if the heavens had been pleased, would we had so ended! but you, sir, altered that; for some hour before you took me from the breach of the sea was my sister drowned. | |
Ant. Alas the day! | |
Seb. A lady, sir, though it was said she much resembled me, was yet of many accounted beautiful: but, though I could not with such estimable wonder overfar believe that, yet thus far I will boldly publish her: she bore a mind that envy could not but call fair. She is drowned already, sir, with salt water, though I seem to drown her remembrance again with more. | |
Ant. Pardon me, sir, your bad entertainment. | |
Seb. O good Antonio! forgive me your trouble! | 10 |
Ant. If you will not murder me for my love, let me be your servant. | |
Seb. If you will not undo what you have done, that is, kill him whom you have recovered, desire it not. Fare ye well at once: my bosom is full of kindness; and I am yet so near the manners of my mother, that upon the least occasion more mine eyes will tell tales of me. I am bound to the Count Orsinos court: farewell. [Exit. | |
Ant. The gentleness of all the gods go with thee! | |
I have many enemies in Orsinos court, | |
Else would I very shortly see thee there; | 15 |
But, come what may, I do adore thee so, | |
That danger shall seem sport, and I will go. [Exit. | | |
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