SCENE I.

_A Sea-port._

_Enter_ SEBASTIAN _and_ ANTONIO.

_Ant._ Will you stay no longer? Nor will you not, that I go with you?

_Seb._ 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 leave, that I may bear my evils alone: It were a bad recompense for your love, to lay any of them on you.

_Ant._ Pardon me, sir, your bad entertainment.

_Seb._ O, good Antonio, pardon me your trouble.

_Ant._ Let me yet know of you, whither you are bound.

_Seb._ No, 'sooth, sir; my determinate voyage is mere extravagancy.--But I perceive in you so excellent a 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 Rodorigo; my father was that 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 the sea, was my sister drowned.

_Ant._ Alas, the day!

_Seb._ A lady, sir, though it was said she much resembled me, was yet of many accounted beautiful: but, though I could not overfar believe that, yet thus far I will boldly publish her, she bore a mind that envy could not but call fair. [_He weeps._]

_Ant._ If you will not murder me for my love, let me be your servant.

_Seb._ If you will not undo what you have done, that is, kill him whom you have recovered, desire it not. 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 Duke Orsino's court, farewell.

_Ant._ The gentleness of all the gods go with thee!

_Seb._ Fare ye well. [_Exeunt._