and two persons!" cried the Duke,
looking first at Viola, and then at Sebastian.

"An apple cleft in two," said one who knew Sebastian, "is not more twin
than these two creatures. Which is Sebastian?"

"I never had a brother," said Sebastian. "I had a sister, whom the blind
waves and surges have devoured." "Were you a woman," he said to Viola,
"I should let my tears fall upon your cheek, and say, 'Thrice welcome,
drowned Viola!'"

Then Viola, rejoicing to see her dear brother alive, confessed that she
was indeed his sister, Viola. As she spoke, Orsino felt the pity that is
akin to love.

"Boy," he said, "thou hast said to me a thousand times thou never
shouldst love woman like to me."

"And all those sayings will I overswear," Viola replied, "and all those
swearings keep true."

"Give me thy hand," Orsino cried in gladness. "Thou shalt be my wife,
and my fancy's queen."

Thus was the gentle Viola made happy, while Olivia found in Sebastian
a constant lover, and a good husband, and he in her a true and loving
wife.

MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING

In Sicily is a town called Messina, which is the scene of a curious
storm in a teacup that raged several hundred years ago.

It began with sunshine. Don Pedro, Prince of Arragon, in Spain, had
gained so complete a victory over his foes that the very land whence
they came is forgotten. Feeling happy and playful after the fatigues of
war, Don Pedro came for a holiday to Messina, and in his suite were his
stepbrother Don John and two young Italian lords, Benedick and Claudio.

Benedick was a merry chatterbox, who had determined to live a bachelor.
Claudio, on the other hand, no sooner arrived at Messina than he fell in
love with Hero, the daughter of Leonato, Governor of Messina.

One July day, a perfumer called Borachio was burning dried lavender in
a musty room in Leonato's house, when the sound of conversation floated
through the open window.

"Give me your candid opinion of Hero," Claudio, asked, and Borachio
settled himself for comfortable listening.

"Too short and brown for praise," was Benedick's reply; "but alter her
color or height, and you spoil her."

"In my eyes she is the sweetest of women," said Claudio.

"Not in mine," retorted Benedick, "and I have no need for glasses. She
is like the last day of December compared with the first of May if you
set her beside her cousin. Unfortunately, the Lady Beatrice is a fury."

Beatrice was Leonato's ni