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’erflourished by the devil.
FIRST OFFICER.
The man grows mad, away with him. Come, come, sir.
ANTONIO.
Lead me on.
[Exeunt Officers with Antonio.]
VIOLA.
Methinks his words do from such passion fly
That he believes himself; so do not I.
Prove true, imagination, O prove true,
That I, dear brother, be now ta’en for you!
SIR TOBY.
Come hither, knight; come hither, Fabian. We’ll whisper o’er a couplet or two of most sage saws.
VIOLA.
He nam’d Sebastian. I my brother know
Yet living in my glass; even such and so
In favour was my brother, and he went
Still in this fashion, colour, ornament,
For him I imitate. O if it prove,
Tempests are kind, and salt waves fresh in love!
[Exit.]
SIR TOBY.
A very dishonest paltry boy, and more a coward than a hare. His dishonesty appears in leaving his friend here in necessity, and denying him; and for his cowardship, ask Fabian.
FABIAN.
A coward, a most devout coward, religious in it.