VIOLA. Who does beguile you? Who does do you wrong? OLIVIA. Hast thou forgot thyself? Is it so long? Call forth the holy father. [_Exit an Attendant._] DUKE. [_To Viola._] Come, away! OLIVIA. Whither, my lord? Cesario, husband, stay. DUKE. Husband? OLIVIA. Ay, husband. Can he that deny? DUKE. Her husband, sirrah? VIOLA. No, my lord, not I. OLIVIA. Alas, it is the baseness of thy fear That makes thee strangle thy propriety. Fear not, Cesario, take thy fortunes up. Be that thou know’st thou art, and then thou art As great as that thou fear’st. Enter Priest. O, welcome, father! Father, I charge thee, by thy reverence Here to unfold—though lately we intended To keep in darkness what occasion now Reveals before ’tis ripe—what thou dost know Hath newly passed between this youth and me. PRIEST. A contract of eternal bond of love, Confirmed by mutual joinder of your hands, Attested by the holy close of lips, Strengthen’d by interchangement of your rings, And all the ceremony of this compact Sealed in my function, by my testimony; Since when, my watch hath told me, toward my grave, I have travelled but two hours. DUKE. O thou dissembling cub! What wilt thou be When time hath sowed a grizzle on thy case? Or will not else thy craft so quickly grow That thine own trip shall be thine overthrow? Farewell, and take her; but direct thy feet Where thou and I henceforth may never meet. VIOLA. My lord, I do protest— OLIVIA. O, do not swear. Hold little faith, though thou has too much fear. Enter Sir Andrew. SIR ANDREW. For the love of God, a surgeon! Send one presently to Sir Toby. OLIVIA. What’s the matter? SIR ANDREW. ’Has broke my head across, and has given Sir Toby a bloody coxcomb too. For the love of God, your help! I had rather than forty pound I were at home. OLIVIA. Who has done this, Sir Andrew? SIR ANDREW. The Count’s gentleman, one Cesario. We took him for a coward, but he’s the very devil incardinate. DUKE. My gentleman, Cesario? SIR ANDREW. ’Od’s lifelings, here he is!—You broke my head for nothing; and that that I did, I was set on to do’t by Sir Toby. VIOLA. Why do you speak to me? I never hurt you: You drew your sword upon me without cause, But I bespake you fair and hurt you not. Enter Sir Toby, drunk, led by the Clown. SIR ANDREW. If a bloody coxcomb be a hurt, you have hurt me. I think you set nothing by a bloody coxcomb. Here comes Sir Toby halting, you shall hear more: but if he had not been in drink, he would have tickled you othergates than he did. DUKE. How now, gentleman? How is’t with you? SIR TOBY. That’s all one; ’has hurt me, and there’s th’ end on’t. Sot, didst see Dick Surgeon, sot? CLOWN. O, he’s drunk, Sir Toby, an hour agone; his eyes were set at eight i’ th’ morning. SIR TOBY. Then he’s a rogue, and a passy measures pavin. I hate a drunken rogue. OLIVIA. Away with him. Who hath made this havoc with them? SIR ANDREW. I’ll help you, Sir Toby, because we’ll be dressed together.