Act IV. Scene I.The Street adjoining
Enter SEBASTIAN and Clown.
Clo. Will you make me believe that I am not
sent for you?
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; nor your name
is not Master Cesario; nor this is not my nose
neither. Nothing that is so is so.
Seb. I prithee, vent thy folly somewhere else:
Thou know'st 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 prithee now, ungird
thy strangeness and tell me what I shall vent to
my lady. Shall I vent to her that thou art com-
Seb. I prithee, foolish Greek, depart from me:
There's money for thee: if you tarry longer
I shall give worse payment.
Clo. By my troth, thou hast an open hand.
These wise men that give fools money get them-
selves a good report after fourteen years' pur-
Enter SIR ANDREW.
Sir And. Now, sir, have I met you again?
there's for you. [Striking SEBASTIAN.
Seb. Why, there's for thee, and there, and
there, and there! [Beating SIR ANDREW.
Are all the people mad?
Enter SIR TOBY and FABIAN.
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 twopence. [Exit.
Sir To. '[Holding SEBASTIAN.] Come on, sir:
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.
Though I struck him first, yet it's no matter for
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
fleshed; come on.
Seb. I will be free from thee. [Disengaging
himself.] What wouldst thou now?
If thou dar'st tempt me further, draw thy sword.
Sir To. What, what! Nay then, I must have
an ounce or two of this malapert blood from you.
Oli. Hold, Toby! on thy life I charge thee,
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
Be not offended, dear Cesario.
Rudesby, be gone!
[Exeunt SIR TOBY, SIR ANDREW,
I prithee, gentle friend,
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
Mayst smile at this. Thou shalt not choose but
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
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!
Oli. Nay; come, I prithee. Would thou'dst
be rul'd by me!
Seb. Madam, I will.
Oli. O! say so, and so be!