Seb. Antonio, O my dear Antonio!
How have the hours rack'd and tortured me.
Since I have lost thee.
Ant. Sebastian are you?
Seb. Fear'st thou that, Antonio?
Ant. How have you made division of yourself?—
An apple, cleft in two, is not more twin
Than these two creatures. Which is Sebastian?
Seb. [Sees Viola.] Do I stand there? I never had a brother:
I had a sister,
Whom the blind waves and surges have devour'd:—
Of charity, [To Viola.] what kin are you to me?
What countryman? what name? what parentage?
Vio. Of Messaline: Sebastian was my father;
Such a Sebastian was my brother too,
So went he suited to his watery tomb:
If spirits can assume both form and suit,
You come to fright us.
Seb. Were you a woman, as the rest goes even,
I should my tears let fall upon your cheek,
And say—Thrice welcome, drowned Viola!
Vio. If nothing lets to make us happy both,
But this my masculine usurp'd attire,
Away with doubt:—each other circumstance
Of place, time, fortune, doth cohere, and jump,
That I am Viola,—your sister Viola. [They embrace.
Seb. [To Olivia.] So comes it, lady, you have been mistook.
Duke. If this be so, as yet the glass seems true,
I shall have share in this most happy wreck:—
Boy, [To Viola.] thou hast said to me a thousand times,
Thou never should'st love woman like to me.