Viola I do assure you, 'tis against my will.
Antonio
Antonio. Put up your sword. If this young gentleman Have done offence, I take the fault on me: If you offend him, I for him defy you.
Sir Toby Belch You, sir! why, what are you?
Antonio
Antonio. One, sir, that for his love dares yet do more Than you have heard him brag to you he will.
Second Officer Antonio, I arrest thee at the suit of Count Orsino.
Antonio
Antonio. You do mistake me, sir.
First Officer No, sir, no jot; I know your favour well, Though now you have no sea-cap on your head. Take him away: he knows I know him well.
Antonio
Antonio. I must obey. (To VIOLA) This comes with seeking you: But there's no remedy; I shall answer it. What will you do, now my necessity Makes me to ask you for my purse? It grieves me Much more for what I cannot do for you Than what befalls myself. You stand amazed; But be of comfort.
Second Officer Come, sir, away.
Antonio
Antonio. I must entreat of you some of that money.
Viola What money, sir? For the fair kindness you have show'd me here, And, part, being prompted by your present trouble, Out of my lean and low ability I'll lend you something: my having is not much; I'll make division of my present with you: Hold, there's half my coffer.
Antonio
Antonio. Will you deny me now? Is't possible that my deserts to you Can lack persuasion? Do not tempt my misery, Lest that it make me so unsound a man As to upbraid you with those kindnesses That I have done for you.
Viola I know of none; Nor know I you by voice or any feature: I hate ingratitude more in a man Than lying, vainness, babbling, drunkenness, Or any taint of vice whose strong corruption Inhabits our frail blood.
Antonio
Antonio. O heavens themselves!
Second Officer Come, sir, I pray you, go.
Antonio
Antonio. Let me speak a little. This youth that you see here I snatch'd one half out of the jaws of death, Relieved him with such sanctity of love, And to his image, which methought did promise Most venerable worth, did I devotion.
First Officer What's that to us? The time goes by: away!
Antonio
Antonio. But O how vile an idol proves this god Thou hast, Sebastian, done good feature shame. In nature there's no blemish but the mind; None can be call'd deform'd but the unkind: Virtue is beauty, but the beauteous evil Are empty trunks o'erflourish'd by the devil.
First Officer The man grows mad: away with him! Come, come, sir.
Antonio