_Ant._ Orsino, noble sir, Be pleased that I shake off these names you give me; Antonio never yet was thief, or pirate, Though, I confess, on base and ground enough, Orsino's enemy. A witchcraft drew me hither: That most ingrateful boy there, by your side, From the rude sea's enraged and foamy mouth Did I redeem; a wreck past hope he was: His life I gave him, and for his sake too, Did I expose myself Into the danger of this adverse town: Drew to defend him, when he was beset; Where being apprehended, his false cunning, (Not meaning to partake with me in danger,) Taught him to face me out of his acquaintance, And grew a twenty-years removed thing, While one would wink; denied me mine own purse, Which I had recommended to his use Not half an hour before. _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. _Duke._ Here comes the countess; now heaven walks on earth.---- But for thee; fellow, fellow, thy words are madness: But more of that anon.----Take him aside. [ANTONIO _and Officers retire a little_. _Enter_ OLIVIA _and two Servants_. _Oli._ What would my lord, but that he may not have, Wherein Olivia may seem serviceable?-- Cesario, you do not keep promise with me. _Vio._ Madam? _Duke._ Gracious Olivia,---- _Oli._ What do you say, Cesario? _Vio._ My lord would speak; my duty hushes me. _Oli._ If it be aught to the old tune, my lord, It is as harsh and fulsome to mine ear, As howling after music. _Duke._ Still so cruel? _Oli._ Still so constant, lord. _Duke._ What! to perverseness? you uncivil lady, To whose ingrate and unauspicious altars My soul the faithfull'st offerings hath breathed out, That e'er devotion tender'd! What shall I do? _Oli._ Even what it please my lord, that shall become him. _Duke._ Why should I not, had I the heart to do it, Like to the Egyptian thief, at point of death, Kill what I love? But hear me this: Live you, the marble-breasted tyrant, still; But this your minion, whom, I see, you love, And whom, by heaven I swear, I tender dearly, Him will I tear out of that cruel eye, Where he sits crowned in his master's spite.-- Come, boy, with me; my thoughts are ripe in mischief. I'll sacrifice the lamb that I do love, To spite a raven's heart within a dove. [_Exeunt_ DUKE _and Gentlemen_. _Vio._ And I, most jocund, apt, and willingly, To do you rest, a thousand deaths would die. [_Going._ _Oli._ Where goes Cesario? _Vio._ After him I love, More than I love these eyes, more than my life; If I do feign, you witnesses above, Punish my life, for tainting of my love!