William Shakespeare: Twelfth Night, Act IV
Enter Sebastian and Clown
Well held out, i' faith! No, I do not know you; nor I am not sent to you by my lady, to bid you come speak with her; nor your name is not Master Cesario; nor this is not my nose neither. Nothing that is so is so.
Vent my folly! he has heard that word of some great man and now applies it to a fool. Vent my folly! I am afraid this great lubber, the world, will prove a cockney. I prithee now, ungird thy strangeness and tell me what I shall vent to my lady: shall I vent to her that thou art coming?
I prithee, foolish Greek, depart from me: There's money for thee: if you tarry longer, I shall give worse payment.
By my troth, thou hast an open hand. These wise men that give fools money get themselves a good report—after fourteen years' purchase.
Enter Sir Andrew, Sir Toby Belch, and Fabian
Nay, let him alone: I'll go another way to work with him; I'll have an action of battery against him, if there be any law in Illyria: though I struck him first, yet it's no matter for that.
Come, sir, I will not let you go. Come, my young soldier, put up your iron: you are well fleshed; come on.
I will be free from thee. What wouldst thou now? If thou darest tempt me further, draw thy sword.
Fit for the mountains and the barbarous caves,
Where manners ne'er were preach'd! out of my sight!
Be not offended, dear Cesario.
Rudesby, be gone!
Exeunt Sir Toby Belch, Sir Andrew, and Fabian
Let thy fair wisdom, not thy passion, sway
In this uncivil and thou unjust extent
Against thy peace. Go with me to my house,
And hear thou there how many fruitless pranks
This ruffian hath botch'd up, that thou thereby
Mayst smile at this: thou shalt not choose but go:
Do not deny. Beshrew his soul for me,
He started one poor heart of mine in thee.
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!