By your patience, no. My stars shine darkly over me: the
malignancy of my fate might perhaps distemper yours; therefore I
shall crave of you your leave that I may bear my evils alone: it
were a bad recompense for your love, to lay any of them on you.

ANTONIO.
Let me know of you whither you are bound.

SEBASTIAN.
No, sooth, sir; my determinate voyage is mere extravagancy. But I
perceive in you so excellent a touch of modesty that you will not
extort from me what I am willing to
keep in; therefore it charges me in manners the rather to express
myself. You must know of me then, Antonio, my name is Sebastian,
which I called Roderigo. My father was that Sebastian of
Messaline whom I know you have heard of. He left behind him
myself and a sister, both born in an hour. If the heavens had
been pleas'd, would we had so ended! but you, sir, alter'd that;
for some hour before you took me from the breach of the sea was
my sister drown'd.

ANTONIO.
Alas the day!

SEBASTIAN.
A lady, sir, though it was said she much resembl'd me, was yet of
many accounted beautiful; but, though I could not, with such
estimable wonder, over-far believe that, yet thus far I will
boldly publish her: she bore mind that envy could not but call
fair. She is drown'd already, sir, with salt water, though I seem