Sebastian's lines in Twelfth Night

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 leave that I may bear my evils alone: it were a bad recompense for your love, to lay any of them on you. ANTONIO: Let me yet know of you whither you are bound.

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, name is Sebastian, which I called Roderigo.

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.

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 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.

Sebastian. O good Antonio, forgive me your trouble.

Sebastian. 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 Count Orsino's court: farewell.

Sebastian. I would not by my will have troubled you; But, since you make your pleasure of your pains, I will no further chide you.

Sebastian. My kind Antonio, I can no other answer make but thanks, And thanks; and ever [ ] oft good turns Are shuffled off with such uncurrent pay: But, were my worth as is my conscience firm, You should find better dealing. What's to do? Shall we go see the reliques of this town?

Sebastian. I am not weary, and 'tis long to night: I pray you, let us satisfy our eyes With the memorials and the things of fame That do renown this city.

Sebastian. Belike you slew great number of his people.

Sebastian. Do not then walk too open.

Sebastian. Why I your purse?

Sebastian. I'll be your purse-bearer and leave you For an hour.

Sebastian. I do remember.

Sebastian. Go to, go to, thou art a foolish fellow: Let me be clear of thee.

Sebastian. I prithee, vent thy folly somewhere else: Thou know'st not me.

Sebastian. I prithee, foolish Greek, depart from me: There's money for thee: if you tarry longer, I shall give worse payment.

Sebastian. Why, there's for thee, and there, and there. Are all the people mad?

Sebastian. Let go thy hand.

Sebastian. I will be free from thee. What wouldst thou now? If thou darest tempt me further, draw thy sword.

Sebastian. What relish is in this? how runs the stream? Or I am mad, or else this is a dream: Let fancy still my sense in Lethe steep; If it be thus to dream, still let me sleep!

Sebastian. Madam, I will.

Sebastian. This is the air; that is the glorious sun; This pearl she gave me, I do feel't and see't; And though 'tis wonder that enwraps me thus, Yet 'tis not madness. Where's Antonio, then? I could not find him at the Elephant: Yet there he was; and there I found this credit, That he did range the town to seek me out.

His counsel now might do me golden service; For though my soul disputes well with my sense, That this may be some error, but no madness, Yet doth this accident and flood of fortune So far exceed all instance, all discourse, That I am ready to distrust mine eyes And wrangle with my reason that persuades me To any other trust but that I am mad Or else the lady's mad; yet, if 'twere so, She could not sway her house, command her followers, Take and give back affairs and their dispatch With such a smooth, discreet and stable bearing As I perceive she does: there's something in't That is deceiveable.

But here the lady comes.

Sebastian. I'll follow this good man, and go with you; And, having sworn truth, ever will be true.

Sebastian. I am sorry, madam, I have hurt your kinsman: But, had it been the brother of my blood, I must have done no less with wit and safety. You throw a regard upon me, and by that I do perceive it hath offended you: Pardon me, sweet one, even for the vows We made each other but so late ago.

Sebastian. Antonio, O my dear Antonio! How have the hours rack'd and tortured me, Since I have lost thee!

Sebastian. Fear'st thou that, Antonio?

Sebastian. Do I stand there? I never had a brother; Nor can there be that deity in my nature, Of here and every where. I had a sister, Whom the blind waves and surges have devour'd. Of charity, what kin are you to me? What countryman? what name? what parentage?

Sebastian. A spirit I am indeed; But am in that dimension grossly clad Which from the womb I did participate. Were you a woman, as the rest goes even, I should my tears let fall upon your cheek, And say 'Thrice-welcome, drowned Viola!'

Sebastian. And so had mine.

Sebastian. O, that record is lively in my soul! He finished indeed his mortal act That day that made my sister thirteen years.

Sebastian. [To OLIVIA] So comes it, lady, you have been mistook: But nature to her bias drew in that. You would have been contracted to a maid; Nor are you therein, by my life, deceived, You are betroth'd both to a maid and man.