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.
-- 379 --
Ant.
Let me yet know of you, whither you are
bound.
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 myself2 note.
You must know of me then, Antonio, my
name is Sebastian, which I called Rodorigo; my
father was that Sebastian of Messaline3 note
, 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 sea4 note, 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
wonder5 note
, overfar believe that, yet thus far I will
-- 380 --
boldly publish her, she bore a mind that envy could
not but call fair: she is drowned already, sir, with
salt water6 note
, 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.
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
mother7 note
, that upon the least occasion more, mine
eyes will tell tales of me. I am bound to the count
Orsino's court: farewell.
[Exit.
Ant.
The gentleness of all the gods go with thee!
I have many enemies in Orsino's court,
Else would I very shortly see thee there:
But, come what may, I do adore thee so,
That danger shall seem sport, and I will go.
[Exit.
James Boswell [1821], The plays and poems of William Shakspeare, with the corrections and illustrations of various commentators: comprehending A Life of the Poet, and an enlarged history of the stage, by the late Edmond Malone. With a new glossarial index (J. Deighton and Sons, Cambridge) [word count] [S10201].
