10
ACT V.
SCENE I. The Street before Olivia’s House.
Enter Clown and Fabian.
FABIAN.
Now, as thou lov’st me, let me see his letter.
CLOWN.
Good Master Fabian, grant me another request.
FABIAN.
Anything.
CLOWN.
Do not desire to see this letter.
FABIAN.
This is to give a dog, and in recompense desire my dog again.
Enter Duke, Viola, Curio and Lords.
DUKE.
Belong you to the Lady Olivia, friends?
CLOWN.
Ay, sir, we are some of her trappings.
DUKE.
I know thee well. How dost thou, my good fellow?
CLOWN.
Truly, sir, the better for my foes, and the worse for my friends.
DUKE.
Just the contrary; the better for thy friends.
CLOWN.
No, sir, the worse.
DUKE.
How can that be?
CLOWN.
Now my foes tell me plainly
I am an ass: so that by my foes, sir, I profit in the knowledge of myself, and
by my friends I am abused. So that, conclusions to be as kisses, if your four
negatives make your two affirmatives, why then, the worse for my friends, and
the better for my foes.
DUKE.
Why, this is excellent.
CLOWN.
By my troth, sir, no; though it please you to be one of my friends.
DUKE.
Thou shalt not be the worse for me; there’s gold.
CLOWN.
But that it would be double-dealing, sir, I would you could make it another.
DUKE.
CLOWN.
Put your grace in your pocket, sir, for this once, and let your flesh and blood
obey it.
DUKE.
Well, I will be so much a sinner to be a double-dealer: there’s another.
CLOWN.
Primo, secundo, tertio, is a good play, and the old saying is, the third
pays for all; the triplex, sir, is a good tripping measure; or the bells of
Saint Bennet, sir, may put you in mind—one, two, three.
DUKE.
You can fool no more money out of me at this throw. If you will let your lady
know I am here to speak with her, and bring her along with you, it may awake my
bounty further.
CLOWN.
Marry, sir, lullaby to your bounty till I come again. I go, sir, but I would
not have you to think that my desire of having is the sin of covetousness: but
as you say, sir, let your bounty take a nap, I will awake it anon.
[Exit Clown.]
Enter Antonio and Officers.
VIOLA.
Here comes the man, sir, that did rescue me.
DUKE.
That face of his I do remember well.
Yet when I saw it last it was besmear’d
As black as Vulcan, in the smoke of war.
A baubling vessel was he captain of,
For shallow draught and bulk unprizable,
With which such scathful grapple did he make
With the most noble bottom of our fleet,
That very envy and the tongue of loss
Cried fame and honour on him. What’s the matter?
FIRST OFFICER.
Orsino, this is that Antonio
That took the Phoenix and her fraught from Candy,
And this is he that did the Tiger board
When your young nephew Titus lost his leg.
Here in the streets, desperate of shame and state,
In private brabble did we apprehend him.
VIOLA.
He did me kindness, sir; drew on my side,
But in conclusion, put strange speech upon me.
I know not what ’twas, but distraction.
DUKE.
ANTONIO.
Orsino, noble sir,
Be pleased that I shake off these names you give me:
Antonio never yet was