Vio. How can this be?

Duke. When came he to this town?

Ant. To-day, my Lord; and for three months before, (No interim, not a minute's vacancy,)

Both day and night did we keep company.

Enter Olivia, and Attendants.

Duke. Here comes the Countefs; now heav'n walks on earth.

But for thee, fellow, fellow, thy words are madness:
Three months this youth hath tended upon me;
But more of that anon.-Take him afide.-

Oli. What would my Lord, but that he may not have, Wherein Olivia may seem serviceable?

Cefario, you do not keep promife with me.

Vio. Madam!

Duke. Gracious Olivia,

Oli. What do you fay, Cefario? Good my Lord
Vio. My Lord would speak, my duty hushes me.
Oli. If it be aught to the old tune, my Lord,
It is as fat and fulfome to mine ear,
As howling after mufick.

Duke. Still fo cruel?

Oli. Still fo conftant, Lord.

Duke. What, to preverfenefs? you uncivil Lady,
To whofe ingrate and unaufpicious altars

My foul the faithful't offerings has breath'd out,
That e'er devotion tender'd. What fhall I do?

Oli. Ev'n what it pleafe my Lord, that fhall become him.
Duke. Why fhould I not, had I the heart to do't, (20)
Like to th' Egyptian thief, at point of death
Kill what I love? (a favage jealousy,

(20) Why should I not, bad I the beart to do it,

Like to the Egyptian thief, at point of death

That

Kill what I love!] In this fimile, a particular ftory is prefuppos'd; which ought to be known, to fhew the juftnefs and propri ety of the comparifon. I'll give the finopfis of it from Heliodorus's' Ethiopics, to which our Author was indebted for the allufion. This Egyptian thief was Thyamis, who was a native of Memphis, and at the head of a band of robbers. Theagenes and Charicles falling into

your favour

That fometimes favours nobly ;) but hear me this:
Since you to non-regardance caft my faith,
And that I partly know the inftrument,
That fcrews me from my true place in
Live you the marble-breafted tyrant ftill.
But this your minion, whom, I know, you love,
And whom, by heav'n, I fwear, I tender dearly,
Him will I tear out of that cruel eye,
Where he fits crowned in his master's fpight.

:

Come, boy, with me; my thoughts are ripe in mifchief: I'll facrifice the lamb that I do love,

To fpight a raven's heart within a dove.

[Duke going. Vio. And I moft jocund, apt, and willingly,

To do you reft, a thousand deaths would die. [following. Oli. Where goes Cefario?

Vio. After him I love,

More than I love these eyes, more than my life;
More, by all mores, than e'er I fhall love wife.
If I do feign, you witneffes above

Punish my life, for tainting of my love!

Oli. Ay me, detefted! how am I beguil❜d ? Vio. Who does beguile you? who does do you wrong Oli. Haft thou forgot thyfelf? Is it fo long? Call forth the holy father.

Duke. Come, away.

[To Viola.

Oli. Whither, my Lord? Cefario, husband, stay. Duke. Hufband?

Oli. Ay, hufband. Can he that deny ?

their hands, Thyamis fell defperately in love with the Lady, and would have married her. Soon after, a ftronger body of robbers coming down upon Thyamis's party, he was in fuch fears for his mifirefs, that he had her shut into a cave with his treasure. It was customary with thofe Barbarians, when they despair'd of their own fafety, firft to make away with those whom they held dear, and defired for companions in the next life. Thyamis, therefore, benetted round with his enemies, raging with love, jealousy, and anger, went to his cave; and calling aloud in the Ægyptian tongue, so soon as he heard himself answer'd towards the cave's mouth by a Grecian, making to the perfon by the 'direction of her voice, he caught her by the hair with his left hand, and (fuppofing her to be Chariclea) with his right hand plung'd his fword into her breast.

Duke. Her husband, firrah?

Vio. No, my Lord, not I.

Oli. Alas, it is the baseness of thy fear,
That makes thee ftrangle thy propriety:
Fear not, Cefario, take thy fortunes up:

Be that, thou know'ft, thou art, and then thou art
As great, as that thou fear'st.

welcome, father.

Enter Prieft.

Father, I charge thee by thy reverence
Here to unfold, (tho' lately we intended
To keep in darkness, what occafion now
Reveals before 'tis ripe) what, thou doft know,
Hath newly paft between this youth and me.
Prieft. A contract of eternal bond of love,
Confirm'd by mutual joinder of your hands,
Attefted by the holy clofe of lips,

Strengthened by enterchangement of your rings:
And all the ceremony of this compact

Seal'd in my function, by my teftimony:

Since when, my watch hath told me, tow'rd my grave I have travell'd but two hours.

Duke. O thou diffembling cub! what wilt thou be, When time hath fow'd a grizzel on thy cafe? Or will not elfe thy craft fo quickly grow, That thine own trip fhall be thine overthrow? Farewel, and take her; but direct thy feet, Where thou and I henceforth may never meet. Vio. My Lord, I do protest

Oli. O, do not swear;

Hold little faith, tho' thou haft too much fear!

Enter Sir Andrew, with his head broke.

Sir And. For the love of God a furgeon, and fend one presently to Sir Toby.

Oli. What's the matter?

Sir And. H'as broke my head a-crofs, and given Sir Toby a bloody coxcomb too: for the love of God, your help. I had rather than forty pound, I were at home.

Qli

Oli. Who has done this, Sir Andrew?

Sir And. The Count's gentleman, one Cefario; we took him for a coward, but he's the very devil incardinate. Duke. My gentleman, Cefario?

Sir And. Od's lifelings, here he is: you broke my head for nothing, and that that I did, I was fet on to do't by Sir Toby.

Vio. Why do you speak to me? I never hurt you: You drew your fword upon me, without caufe; But I befpake you fair, and hurt you not.

Enter Sir Toby, and Clown.

Sir And. If a bloody coxcomb be a hurt, you have hurt me: I think, you fet nothing by a bloody coxcomb. Here comes Sir Toby halting, you fhall hear more; but if he had not been in drink, he would have tickled you other-gates than he did.

Duke. How now, gentleman? how is't with you? Sir To. That's all one, he has hurt me, and there's an end on't; Sot, didit fee Dick Surgeon, Sot?

Clo O he's drunk, Sir Toby, above an hour agone; his eyes were fet at eight i'th' morning.

Sir To. Then he's a rogue, and a paft-measure Painim. I hate a drunken rogue.

Oli. Away with him: who hath made this havock with them?

Sir And. I'll help you, Sir Toby, because we'll be dreft together.

Sir To. Will you help an afs-head, and a coxcomb, and a knave, a thin-fac'd knave, a gull?

[Exeunt Clo. To. and And. Oli. Get him to bed, and let his hurt be look'd to.

Enter Sebaftian.

Seb. I am forry, Madam, I have hurt your kinfman But had it been the brother of my blood,

I must have done no lefs with wit and fafety.

:

[All ftand in amaze. You throw a strange regard on me, by which, I do perceive, it hath offended you; H 4

Pardon

Pardon me, fweet one, even for the vows
We made each other, but fo late ago.

Duke. One face, one voice, one habit, and two perfons; A nat❜ral perspective, that is, and is not!

Seb. Antonio, O my dear Antonio !

How have the hours rack'd and tortur'd me,
Since I have loft thee?

Ant. Sebaftian are you?

Seb. Fear'ft thou that, Antonio !

Ant. How have you made divifion of yourself?
An apple, cleft in two, is not more twin
Than thefe two creatures. Which is Sebaftian?
Oli. Moft wonderful!

Seb. Do I ftand there? I never had a brother:
Nor can there be that deity in my nature,
Of here and every where. I had a fifter,
Whom the blind waves and furges have devour'd :
Of charity, what kin are you to me?

[To Viola.
What countryman ? what name? what parentage?
Vio. Of Meffaline; Sebaftian was my father;
Such a. Sebaftian was my brother too:

So went he fuited to his wat'ry tomb.
If fpirits can affume both form and suit,
You come to fright us.

Seb. A fpirit I am, indeed;

But am in that dimenfion grofsly clad,
Which from the womb I did participate.
Were you a woman, as the reft goes even,
I fhould my tears let fall upon your cheek,
And fay, "Thrice welcome, drowned Viola!
Vio. My father had a mole upon his brow.
Seb. And fo had mine.

Vio. And dy'd that day, when Viola from her birth Had numbered thirteen years.

Seb. O, that record is lively in

my foul;
He finished, indeed, his mortal act,
That day that made my fifter thirteen years.
Vio. If nothing lets to make us happy both,
But this my mafculine ufurp'd attire;

Do not embrace me, 'till each circumftance

of