Open Source Shakespeare

Twelfth Night, Or What You Will

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Act II, Scene 1

The sea-coast.



  • Antonio. Will you stay no longer? nor will you not that I go with you?
  • Sebastian. By your patience, no. My stars shine darkly over
    me: the malignancy of my fate might perhaps
    distemper yours; therefore I shall crave of you your 615
    leave that I may bear my evils alone: it were a bad
    recompense for your love, to lay any of them on you.
  • Sebastian. No, sooth, sir: my determinate voyage is mere
    extravagancy. But I perceive in you so excellent a 620
    touch of modesty, that you will not extort from me
    what I am willing to keep in; therefore it charges
    me in manners the rather to express myself. You
    must know of me then, Antonio, my name is Sebastian,
    which I called Roderigo. My father was that 625
    Sebastian of Messaline, whom I know you have heard
    of. He left behind him myself and a sister, both
    born in an hour: if the heavens had been pleased,
    would we had so ended! but you, sir, altered that;
    for some hour before you took me from the breach of 630
    the sea was my sister drowned.
  • Antonio. Alas the day!
  • Sebastian. A lady, sir, though it was said she much resembled
    me, was yet of many accounted beautiful: but,
    though I could not with such estimable wonder 635
    overfar believe that, yet thus far I will boldly
    publish her; she bore a mind that envy could not but
    call fair. She is drowned already, sir, with salt
    water, though I seem to drown her remembrance again with more.
  • Antonio. Pardon me, sir, your bad entertainment. 640
  • Sebastian. O good Antonio, forgive me your trouble.
  • Antonio. If you will not murder me for my love, let me be
    your servant.
  • Sebastian. If you will not undo what you have done, that is,
    kill him whom you have recovered, desire it not. 645
    Fare ye well at once: my bosom is full of kindness,
    and I am yet so near the manners of my mother, that
    upon the least occasion more mine eyes will tell
    tales of me. I am bound to the Count Orsino's court: farewell.


  • Antonio. The gentleness of all the gods go with thee!
    I have many enemies in Orsino's court,
    Else would I very shortly see thee there.
    But, come what may, I do adore thee so,
    That danger shall seem sport, and I will go. 655