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.
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 that7 note, yet thus far I will boldly publish her 11Q0448—
-- 350 --
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.
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 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.
J. Payne Collier [1842–1844], The works of William Shakespeare. The text formed from an entirely new collation of the old editions: with the various readings, notes, a life of the poet, and a history of the Early English stage. By J. Payne Collier, Esq. F.S.A. In eight volumes (Whittaker & Co. [etc.], London) [word count] [S10101].
