1 OFFICER. What 's that to us? The time goes by; away!
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'erflourish'd by the devil.
1 OFFICER.
The man grows mad; away with him!
Come, come, sir.
ANTONIO.
Lead me on.
[Exit with OFFICERS.]
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.