Sebastian.
Antonio.
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
recompence for your love, to lay any of them on
you.
Ant.
Let me yet know of you, whither you are
bound.
Seb.
No, sooth, Sir; my determinate voyage is
meer 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 call'd Rodorigo; 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
one hour; if the heav'ns had been pleas'd, would we
had so ended! but you, Sir, alter'd that; for, some
hour before you took me from the breach of the sea,
was my sister drown'd.
Ant.
Alas, the day!
Seb.
A Lady, Sir, tho' it was said she much resembled
me, was yet of many accounted beautiful; but
tho' I could not 1 note[with such estimable wonder] over-far
-- 140 --
believe that, yet thus far I will boldly publish her,
she bore a mind that envy could not but call fair:
she is drown'd already, Sir, with salt water, tho' 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 murther 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 recover'd, 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 Duke Orsino's
court; farewel.
[Exit.
Ant.
The gentleness of all the Gods go with thee!
I have made enemies of Orsino's court,
Else would I very shortly see thee there:
But come what may, I do adore thee so,
The danger shall seem sport, and I will go.
[Exit.
Alexander Pope [1747], The works of Shakespear in eight volumes. The Genuine Text (collated with all the former Editions, and then corrected and emended) is here settled: Being restored from the Blunders of the first Editors, and the Interpolations of the two Last: with A Comment and Notes, Critical and Explanatory. By Mr. Pope and Mr. Warburton (Printed for J. and P. Knapton, [and] S. Birt [etc.], London) [word count] [S11301].
