Mr. VVilliam Shakespeares comedies, histories, & tragedies Published according to the true originall copies.

Scaena prima.

Enter Sebastian and Clowne.

Clo.

Will you make me beleeue, that I am not sent for you?

Seb.

Go too, go too, thou art a foolish fellow, Let me be cleere of thee.

Clo.

Well held our yfaith: No, I do not know you, nor I am not sent to you by my Lady, to bid you come speake with her: nor your name is not Master C••sario, nor this is not my nose neyther: Nothing that is so, is so.

Seb.

I prethee vent thy folly some-where else, thou know'st not me.

Clo.

Vent my folly: He has heard that word of some great man, and now applyes it to a foole. Vent my fol∣ly: I am affraid this great lubber the World will proue a Cockney: I prethee now vngird thy strangenes, and tell me what I shall vent to my Lady? Shall I vent to hir that thou art comming?

Seb.

I prethee foolish greeke depart from me, there's money for thee, if you tarry longer, I shall giue worse paiment.

Clo.

By my troth thou hast an open hand: these Wise∣men that giue fooles money, get themselues a good re∣port, after foureteene yeares purchase.

Enter Andrew, Toby, and Fabian.

And.

Now sir, haue I met you again: ther's for you.

Seb.

Why there's for thee, and there, and there, Are all the people mad?

To

Hold sir, or Ile throw your dagger ore the house.

Clo.

This will I tell my Lady straight, I would not be in some of your coats for two pence.

To.

Come on sir, hold.

An.

Nay let him alone, Ile go another way to worke with him: Ile haue an action of Battery against him, if there be any law in Illyria: though I stroke him first, yet it's no matter for that.

Seb.

Let go thy hand.

To.

Come sir, I will not let you go. Come my yong souldier put vp your yron: you are well flesh'd: Come on.

Seb.

I will be free from thee. What wouldst y^u now? If thou dar'st tempt me further, draw thy sword.

To.

What, what? Nay then I must haue an Ounce or two of this malapert blood from you.

Enter Oliuia.

Ol.

Hold Toby, on thy life I charge thee hold.

To.

Madam.

Ol.

Will it be euer thus? Vngracious wretch, Fit for the Mountaines, and the barbarous Caues, Where manners nere were preach'd: out of my sight. Be not offended, deere Cesario: Rudesbey be gone. I prethee gentle friend, Let thy fayre wisedome, not thy passion sway In this vnciuill, and vniust extent Against thy peace. Go with me to my house, And heare thou there how many fruitlesse prankes This Ruffian hath botch'd vp, that thou thereby Mayst smile at this: Thou shalt not choose but goe: Do not denie, beshrew his soule for mee, He started one poore heart of mine, in thee.

Seb.

What rellish is in this? How runs the streame? Or I am mad, or else this is a dreame: Let fancie still my sense in Lethe sleepe, If it be thus to dreame, still let me sleepe.

Ol.

Nay come I prethee, would thoud'st be rul'd by me

Seb.

Madam, I will.

Ol.

O say so, and so be.

Exeunt