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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?
Vio. In Orsino's 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? [Unveiling.
Vio. Excellently done, if nature did all.
Oli. 'Tis in grain, sir; 'twill endure wind and weather.
Nature's own sweet and cunning hand laid on:
Lady, you are the cruel'st she alive,
If you will lead these graces to the grave,
And leave the world no copy.
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;
But, if you were the devil, you are fair.
My lord and master loves you; O, such love
Could be but recompens'd, though you were crown'd
How does he love me?
Vio. With adorations, with fertile tears,
With groans that thunder love, with sighs of fire.
Oli. Your lord does know my mind, I cannot love him;
Yet I suppose him virtuous, know him noble,
Of great estate, of fresh and stainless youth;
In voices well divulg'd, free, learn'd, and valiant,
And, in dimension, and the shape of nature,
Vio. If I did love you in my master's flame,
I would not understand it.
Why, what would you?
Vio. Make me a willow cabin at your gate,
And sing them loud even in the dead of night;
Oli. You might do much: What is your parentage?
I am a gentleman.
Get you to your
I cannot love him: let him send no more;
Oli. What is your parentage?
Above my fortunes, yet my state is well;
I am a gentleman.- -I'll be sworn thou art;
Thy tongue, thy face, thy limbs, actions, and spirit,
Do give thee five-fold blazon :-Not too fast:-soft! soft!
Unless the master were the man.-How now ?
Even so quickly may one catch the plague?
To creep in at mine eyes. Well, let it be.-
Here, madam, at your service.
Oli. Run after that same peevish messenger,
Nor hold him up with hopes; I am not for him:
If that the youth will come this way to-morrow,
Mal. Madam, I will.
Oli. I do I know not what: and fear to find
Mine eye too great a flatterer for my mind.
Fate, show thy force: Ourselves we do not owe;
Enter VIOLA; MALVOLIO following.
Mal. Were not you even now with the countess Olivia ? Vio. Even now, sir; on a moderate pace I have since arrived but hither.
Mal. She returns this ring to you, sir; you might have saved me my pains, to have taken it away yourself. She adds, moreover, that you should put your lord into a desperate assurance she will none of him: And one thing more; that you be never so hardy to come again in his affairs, unless it be to report your lord's taking of this. Receive it so.
Vio. She took the ring of me; I'll none of it.
Mal. Come, sir, you peevishly threw it to her; and her will is, it should be so returned: if it be worth stooping for, there it lies in your eye; if not, be it his that finds it.
Vio. I left no ring with her: What means this lady? Fortune forbid, my outside have not charm'd her!
She made good view of me; indeed, so much,
That, sure, methought, her eyes had lost her tongue,
She loves me, sure; the cunning of her passion
None of my lord's ring! why, he sent her none.
In women's waxen hearts to set their forms!
And I, poor monster, fond as much on him;
What thriftless sighs shall poor Olivia breathe?
O time, thou must entangle this, not I;
It is too hard a knot for me to untie.
Viola becomes enamored of the Duke, and with exquisite delicacy describes her own feelings, while professing to narrate her sister's story.
SCENE. A Room in the Duke's Palace.
Enter DUKE, VIOLA, CURIO, and others.
Duke. Give me some music :-Now, good morrow, friends :-
Cur. He is not here, so please your lordship, that should sing it.
Cur. Feste, the jester, my lord; a fool, that the lady Olivia's father took much delight in: he is about the house.
Duke. Seek him out, and play the tune the while.
Come hither, boy; if ever thou shalt love,
Where Love is thron'd.
Thou dost speak masterly:
My life upon't, young though thou art, thine eye
Hath it not, boy?
Of your complexion.
Duke. She is not worth thee then. What years, i' faith?
Duke. Too old, by heaven. Let still the woman take
An elder than herself; so wears she to him,
So sways she level in her husband's heart.
I think it well, my lord.
For women are as roses; whose fair flower,
Get thee to yond' same sovereign cruelty:
The parts that fortune hath bestow'd upon her,
'Sooth, but you must.
Say, that some lady, as, perhaps, there is,
As you have for Olivia: you cannot love her;
Can bide the beating of so strong a passion
And can digest as much: make no compare
Duke. What dost thou know?
Vio. Too well what love women to men may:
In faith, they are as true of heart as we.
Feed on her damask cheek: she pin'd in thought;
Duke. But died thy sister of her love, my boy?
Ay, that's the theme.