_Oli._ Ah me, forsaken! how am I beguiled! _Vio._ Who does beguile you? who does do you wrong? _Oli._ Hast thou forgot thyself? Is it so long?-- Call forth the holy father. [_Exeunt two Servants._ _Enter_ DUKE. _Duke._ [_To_ VIOLA.] Come away. _Oli._ Whither, my lord?--Cesario, husband, stay. _Duke._ Husband? _Oli._ Ay, husband: Can he that deny? _Duke._ Her husband, sirrah? _Vio._ No, my lord, not I. _Oli._ 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_ FRIAR _and two Servants_. 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 past between this youth and me. _Friar._ A contract of eternal bond of love, Confirm'd by mutual joinder of your hands, Strengthen'd by interchangement of your rings; And all the ceremony Seal'd in my function, by my testimony: Since when, toward my grave I have travell'd but two hours. _Duke._ O, thou dissembling cub! what wilt thou be, When time hath sow'd a grizzle on thy case? Farewell, 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, though thou hast too much fear. [OLIVIA _sends away the Friar_. _Enter_ SIR ANDREW, _crying, with his Head broke_. _Sir And._ O, O,--For the love of heaven, a surgeon; send one presently to Sir Toby. _Oli._ What's the matter? _Sir And._ He has broke my head across, and has given Sir Toby a bloody coxcomb too: for the love of heaven, your help: I had rather than forty pound I were at home. _Oli._ Who has done this, Sir Andrew? _Sir And._ The count's gentleman, one Cesario: We took him for a coward, but he's the very devil incardinate. _Duke._ My gentleman, Cesario? _Sir And._ 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. _Vio._ 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. _Sir And._ If a bloody coxcomb be a hurt, you have hurt me: I think, you set nothing by a bloody coxcomb. _Sir To._ [_Without._] Holla, Sir Andrew,--where are you? _Sir And._ Here comes Sir Toby halting, you shall hear more: but if he had not been in drink, he would have tickled your Toby for you. _Enter_ SIR TOBY, _drunk, with his Forehead bleeding_. _Duke._ How now, gentleman? how is't with you? _Sir To._ That's all one; he has hurt me, and there's the end on't.--Sot, did'st see Dick surgeon, sot?