to hear you. If you be not mad, be gone; if you have reafon, be brief: 'tis not that time of the moon with me, to make one in fo fkipping a dialogue.

Mar. Will you hoift fail, Sir? here lies your way.

Vio. No, good fwabber, I am to hull here a little longer. Some mollification for your giant, fweet Lady tell me your mind, I am a meffenger.

:

Oli. Sure, you have fome hideous matter to deliver, when the curtefy of it is fo 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 appear'd in me, have I learn'd from my entertainment. What I am, and what I would, are as fecret as maiden-head; to your ears, divinity; to any other's, prophanation.

Oli. Give us the place alone. [Exit Maria.] We will hear this divinity. Now, Sir, what is your text? Vio. Moft fweet Lady,

Oli. A comfortable doctrine, and much may be faid of it. Where lies your text?

Vio. In Orfino's bofom.

Oli. In his bofom? in what chapter of his bofom? Vio. To answer by the method, in the first of his heart.

Oli. O, I have read it; it is herefy. Have you no more to say?

Vio. Good madam, let me fee your face.

Oli. Have you any commiffion from your Lord to negotiate with my face? you are now out of your text; but we will draw the curtain, and fhew you the picture. (3) Look you, Sir, fuch a one I wear this prefent: is't not well done ? [Unveiling.

Vio.

(3) Look you, Sir, fuch a one I was this prefent: is't not well done?] This is nonfenfe. My correction, I think, clears all up, and gives the expreffion an air of gallantry. Viola preffes to fee Olivia's face: the

other

Vio. Excellently done, if God did all.

Oli. 'Tis in grain, Sir; 'twill endure wind and

weather.

Vio. 'Tis beauty truly blent, whofe red and white
Nature's own sweet and cunning hand laid on:
Lady, you are the cruell'ft fhe alive,

If you will lead thefe graces to the grave,
And leave the world no copy.

Oli. O, Sir, I will not be fo hard-hearted: I will give out diverfe fchedules of my beauty. It fhall be inventoried, and every particle and utenfil labell'd to my will. As, Item, two lips in different red. Item, two grey eyes, with lids to them. Item, one neck, one chin, and fo forth. Were you fent hither to praise me?

Vio. I fee you, what you are; you are too proud;
But if you were the devil, you are fair.

My Lord and Mafter loves you: O, fuch love
Could be but recompens'd, tho' you were crown'd
The non-pareil of beauty!

Oli. How does he love me?

Vio. With adorations, with fertile tears,

With groans that thunder love, with fighs of fire.
Oli. Your Lord does know my mind, I cannot love him';
Yet 1 fuppofe him virtuous, know him noble,
Of great eftate, of fresh and stainless youth;
In voices well divulg'd; free, learn'd, and valiant ;
And in dimenfion, and the fhape of Nature,
A gracious perfon; but yet I cannot love him:
He might have took his anfwer long ago.
Vio. If I did love you in my Mafter's flame,
With such a suff'ring, fuch a deadly life,

other at length pulls off her veil, and fays; We will draw the curtain,
and fhew you the Picture. I wear this complexion to-day, I may wear
another to-morrow; jocularly intimating, that the painted. The other,
vext at the jeft, fays, "Excellently done, if God did all." Perhaps,
it
may be true, what you fay in jeft: otherwife 'tis an excellent face.
'Tis in grain, &c, replies Olivia.
Mr, Warburton.

In

n your denial I would find no sense : + would not understand it.

Oli. Why, what would you do?

Vio. Make me a willow cabin at your gate,
And call upon my foul within the house;
Write royal canto's of contemned love,
And fing them loud even in the dead of night:
4) Hollow your name to the reverberant hills,
And make the babling goffip of the air
Cry out, Olivia! O you should not reft
Between the elements of air and earth,
But you fhould pity me.

Oli. You might do much :
What is your parentage?

Vio. Above my fortunes, yet my state is wel I am a gentleman.

Oli. Get you to your Lord;

cannot love him: let him fend no more;
Jnlefs, perchance, you come to me again,
To tell me how he takes it; fare you well:
thank you for your pains; spend this for me.
Vio. I am no feed poft, Lady; keep your purse:
My mafter, not myfelf, lacks recompence.
Love makes his heart of flint, that you fhall love,
And let your fervour, like my Master's, be
Plac'd in contempt! farewel, fair cruelty.
Oli What is your parentage?

Above my fortunes, yet my ftate is well:

I am a gentleman

I'll be fworn thou art.

[Exit.

Thy tongue, thy face, thy limbs, actions, and fpirit,
Do give thee five-fold blazon-not too fast-soft! foft!
Unless the mafter were the man.- How now?

Even fo quickly may one catch the plague ?
Methinks, I feel this youth's perfections,
With an invifible and fubtile ftealth,

(4) Hollow your name to the reverberate bills.] I have, against the authority of the printed copies, corrected, reverberant. The adjective paffive makes nonfenfe,

Το

To creep in at mine eyes. Well, let it be

What ho, Malvolio,

Enter Malvolio.

Mal. Here, Madam, at your fervice.

Oli. Run after that fame peevish meffenger,
The Duke's man; he left this ring behind him,
Would I, or not: tell him, I'll none of it.
Defire him not to flatter with his Lord,

Nor hold him up with hopes; I am not for him
If that the youth will come this way to-morrow,
I'll give him reafons for't. Hye thee, Malvolio.
Mal. Madam, I will.

Oh. I do, I know not what; and fear to find
Mine eye too great a flatterer for my mind:
Fate, fhew thy force; ourselves we do not owe;
What is decreed, muft be; and be this fo!

[Exit.

[Exit.

ACT II.

SCENE, the STREET.

Enter Antonio and Sebaftian.

ANTONIO..

ILL you ftay no longer? nor will you not, that
I go with you?

W 1180

Seb. By your patience, no: my ftars fhine darkly over me: the malignancy of my fate might, perhaps, diftemper yours; therefore I fhall crave of you your leave, that I may bear my evils alone. It were a bad fecompence for your love, to lay any of them on you.

Ant. Let me yet know of you, whither you are

Bound?

Seb. No, footh, Sir; my determinate voyage is mere

* VOL. III.

F

extra

extravagancy: but I perceive in you fo excellent a touch of modefty, that you will not extort from me what I am willing to keep in; therefore it charges me in manners the rather to exprefs myself: you muft know of me then, Antonio, my name is Sebaftian, which I call'd Rodorigo; my father was that Sebaftian of Mefjaline, whom, I know, you have heard of. He left behind him, myself, and a fifter, both born in one hour; if the heav'ns had been pleas'd, would we had to ended! but you, Sir, alter'd that; for, some hour before you took me from the breach of the fea, was my fifter drown'd.

Ant. Alas, the day!

Seb. A Lady, Sir, tho' it was faid the much resembled me, was yet of many accounted beautiful; but tho' I could not with fuch eftimable wonder over-far believe that, yet thus far I will boldly publifh her, the bore a mind that envy could not but call fair: she is drown'd already, Sir, with falt water, tho' I seem to drown her remembrance again with more.

be

Ant. Pardon me, Sir, your bad entertainment.

Seb. O good Antonio, forgive me your trouble.
Ant. If you will not murder me for my love, let me
your fervant.

Seb. If you will not undo what you have done, that is, kill him whom you have recover'd, desire it not. Fare ye well at once; my bofom is full of kindness, and I am yet fo near the manners of my mother, that upon the leaft occafion more, mine eyes will tell tales of me: I am bound to the Duke Orfino's court; farewel. [Exit. Ant. The gentleness of all the gods go with thee! I have made enemies in Orfino's court,

Elfe would I very fhortly fee thee there:
But come what may, I do adore thee fo,

That danger shall seem sport, and I will go.

(Exit.

Enter Viola and Malvolio, at several doors. Mal. Were not you e'en now with the Countefe Olivia ?