CLOWN.
Will you make me believe that I am not sent for you?
SEBASTIAN.
Go to, go to, thou art a foolish fellow.
Let me be clear of thee.
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.
SEBASTIAN.
I prithee vent thy folly somewhere else,
Thou know’st not me.
CLOWN.
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?
SEBASTIAN.
I prithee, foolish Greek, depart from me.
There’s money for thee; if you tarry longer
I shall give worse payment.
CLOWN.
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 and Fabian.
SIR ANDREW.
Now sir, have I met you again? There’s for you.
[Striking Sebastian.]