Do I stand there? I never had a brother, Nor can there be that deity in my nature Of here and everywhere. I had a sister, Whom the blind waves surges have devoured. Of charity, what kin are you to me? What countryman? What name? What Parentage?
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 fright us.
A spirit I am indeed, But am in that dimension grossly clad Which from the womb I did participate. Were you a woman, as the rest goes even, I should my tears let fall upon your cheek And say "Thrice welcome, drowned Viola."
And so did mine.
And died that day when Viola from her birth Had numbered thirteen years.
My father had a mole upon his brow
If nothing lets to make us happy both but this my masculine usurpted attire, Do not embrace me till each circumstance Of place, time, fortune, do cohere and jump That I am Viola: which to confirm,
O, that record is lively in my soul! He finished indeed his mortal act That day that made my sister thirteen years.
I'll bring you to a captain in this town, Where lie my maiden weeds; by whose gentle help I was preserved to serve this noble count. All that occurrence of my fortune since Hath been between this lady and this lord.