morning.
Then he's a rogue, and a passy measures panyn: I
hate a drunken rogue.
Away with him! Who hath made this havoc with them?
I'll help you, Sir Toby, because well be dressed together.
Will you help? an ass-head and a coxcomb and a
knave, a thin-faced knave, a gull!
Get him to bed, and let his hurt be look'd to.
I am sorry, madam, I have hurt your kinsman:
But, had it been the brother of my blood,
I must have done no less with wit and safety.
You throw a strange regard upon me, and by that
I do perceive it hath offended you:
Pardon me, sweet one, even for the vows
We made each other but so late ago.
One face, one voice, one habit, and two persons,
A natural perspective, that is and is not!
Antonio, O my dear Antonio!
How have the hours rack'd and tortured me,
Since I have lost thee!
Sebastian are you?
Fear'st thou that, Antonio?
How have you made division of yourself?
An apple, cleft in two, is not more twin
Than these two creatures. Which is Sebastian?
Most wonderful!
Do I stand there? I never had a brother;
Nor can there be that deity in my nature,
Of here and every where. I had a sister,
Whom the blind waves and surges have devour'd.
Of charity, what kin are you to me?
What countryman? what name? what parentage?
Of Messaline: Sebastian was my father;
Such a Sebastian was my brother too,
So went he suited to his watery tomb:
If spirits can assume both form and suit
You come to fright us.
A spirit I am indeed;
But am in that dimension grossly clad
Which from the womb I did participate.
Were you a woman, as the rest goes even,
I should my tears let fall upon your cheek,
And say 'Thrice-welcome, drowned Viola!'
My father had a mole upon his brow.
And so had mine.
And died that day when Viola from her birth
Had number'd thirteen years.
O, that record is lively in my soul!
He finished indeed his mortal act
That day that made my sister thirteen years.
If nothing lets to make us happy both
But this my masculine usurp'd attire,
Do not embrace me till each circumstance
Of place, time, fortune, do cohere and jump
That I am Viola: which to confirm,
I'll bring you to a captain in this town,
Where lie my maiden weeds; by whose gentle help
I was preserved to serve this noble count.
All the occurrence of