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