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Away before me to sweet beds of flowers;
SCENE II.-The Sea-coast.
Enter VIOLA, Captain, and Sailors.
Vio. What country, friends, is this?
Vio. And what should I do in Illyria ?
Cap. Ay, madam, well; for I was bred and born,
A noble duke, in nature,
Vio. Who governs here?
As in his name.
What is his name?
Vio. Orsino! I have heard my father name him: He was a bachelor then.
In murmur, (as, you know, what great ones do,
Cap. A virtuous maid, the daughter of a count
Who shortly also died: for whose dear love,
Vio. There is a fair behavior in thee, captain;
Cap. Be thou his page, and I your mute will be;
Vio. I thank thee: Lead me on.
Viola, having disguised herself in male attire, obtains the situation of Page, in the Duke's household, under the name of Cesario.
A Room in the Duke's Palace.
Enter VALENTINE, and VIOLA in man's attire.
Val. If the Duke continue these favors towards you, Cesario, you are like to be much advanced; he hath known you but three days, and already you are no stranger.
Vio. You either fear his humor, or my negligence, that you call in question the continuance of his love: Is he inconstant, sir, in his favors ?
Val. No, believe me.
Enter DUKE, CURIO, and Attendants.
Vio. I thank you. Here comes the count.
Vio. On your attendance, my lord; here.
And tell them, there thy fixed foot shall grow,
Sure, my noble lord,
Duke. Be clamorous, and leap all civil bounds,
Vio. Say, I do speak with her, my lord: What then?
For this affair :-Some four, or five, attend him;
I'll do my best,
To woo your lady: yet,-[Aside.]-a barful strife:
The Lady Olivia, attended by her waiting woman Maria, and Malvolio her steward, is informed that a messenger from the Duke seeks her presence.
Enter OLIVIA, MARIA, and MALVOLIO.
Mar. Madam, there is at the gate a young gentleman, much desires to speak with you.
Oli. From the count Orsino, is it?
Mar. I know not, madam; 'tis a fair young man, and well attended. Oli. Who of my people hold him in delay ?
Mar. Sir Toby, madam, your kinsman.
Oli. Fetch him off, I pray you; he speaks nothing but madman: Fye on him!-[Exit MARIA.]—Go you, Malvolio: if it be a suit from the count, I am sick or not at home; what you will, to dismiss it.-[Exit MALVOLIO.]-Now you see, sir, how your fooling grows old, and people dislike it.
Mal. Madam, yond, young fellow swears he will speak with you.
I told him you were sick; he takes on him to understand so much, and therefore comes to speak with you: I told him you were asleep; he seems to have a fore-knowledge of that too, and therefore comes to speak with you. What is to be said to him, lady? he's fortified against any denial.
Oli. Tell him, he shall not speak with me.
Mal. He has been told so; and he says, he'll stand at your door like a sheriff's post, and be the supporter of a bench, but he'll speak with you.
Oli. What kind of man is he?
Mal. Why, of mankind.
Oli. What manner of man?
Mal. Of very ill manner; he'll speak with you, will you, or no. Oli. Of what personage, and years, is he?
Mal. Not yet old enough for a man, nor young enough for a boy He is very well-favored, and he speaks very shrewishly.
Oli. Let him approach: Call in my gentlewoman.
Oli. Give me my veil: come throw it o'er my face: We'll once more hear Orsino's embassy.
Vio. The honorable lady of the house, which is she? Oli. Speak to me, I shall answer for her: Your will? Vio. Most radiant, exquisite, and unmatchable beauty, I pray you, tell me, if this be the lady of the house, for I never saw her: I would be loath to cast away my speech; for, besides that it is excellently well penn❜d, I have taken great pains to con it. Good beauties, let me sustain no scorn; I am very comptible,* even to the 1st sinister usage.
Oli. Whence came you, sir?
Vio. I can say little more than I have studied, and that question's out of my part. Good gentle one, give me modest assurance, if you be the lady of the house, that I may proceed in my speech.
Oli. Are you a comedian?
Vio. No, my profound heart: and yet, by the very fangs of malice, I swear I am not that I play. Are you the lady of the house? Oli. If I do not usurp myself, I am.
Vio. Most certain, if you are she, you do usurp yourself; for what is yours to bestow, is not yours to reserve. But this is from my commission: I will on with my speech in your praise, and then show you the heart of my message.
Oli. Come to what is important in't: I forgive you the praise.
Oli. It is the more like to be feigned; I pray you keep it in. I heard you were saucy at my gates; and allowed your approach, rather to wonder at you than to hear you. If you be not mad, be
gone; if you have reason be brief: 'tis not that time of moon with me, to make one in so skipping a dialogue. Tell me your mind.
Vio. I am a messenger.
Oli. Sure, you have some hideous matter to deliver, when the courtesy of it is so fearful. Speak your office.
Vio. It alone concerns your ear. I bring no overture of war, no taxation of homage; I hold the olive in my hand: my words are as full of peace as matter.
Oli. Yet you began rudely. What are you? what would you? Vio. The rudeness that hath appeared in me, have I learn'd from my entertainment. What I am, and what I would, are to your ears, divinity; to any other's, profanation.
Oli. Give us the place alone: we will hear this divinity.-[Exit MARIA.]-Now, sir, what is your text?
Vio. Most sweet lady,
Oli. A comfortable doctrine, and much may be said of it. Where lies your text?
io. In Orsino bosom.
Oli. In his bosom? In what chapter of his bosom?
Vio. To answer by the method, in the first of his heart.
Oli. O, I have read it; it is heresy. Have you no more to say? Vio. Good madam, let me see your face.
Oli. Have you any commission from your lord to negotiate with my face? you are now out of your text: but we will draw the curtain, and show you the picture. Look you, sir, such a one as I was this present: Is't not well done?
Vio. Excellently done, if nature did all.
Oli. 'Tis in grain, sir; 'twill endure wind and weather,
If you will lead these graces to the grave,
Oli. O, sir, I will not be so hard-hearted; I will give out divers schedules of my beauty: It shall be inventoried; and every particle, and utensil, labelled to my will. Were you sent hither to praise me?
Vio. I see you what you are: you are too proud;
Could be but recompens'd, though you were crown'd
How does he love me?
Oli. Your lord does know my mind, I cannot love him ;
Yet I suppose him virtuous, know him noble,