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gone; if you have reason, be brief; ’tis not that time of the moon with me, to make one in so skipping a dialogue.

Mar. Will hoist fail, sir? here lies your way.

Vio. No, good swabber; I am to hull here a little longer. Some mollification for your giant, sweet lady.

Oli. 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 appeard in me have I learn’d from my entertainment. What I

What I am, and what I would, are as secret aš a maidenhead; to your ears, divinity; to any others, prophanation.

Oli. Give us the place alone. [Exit Maria.] We will hear this divinity. Now, fir, what is your text ?

Vio. Most sweet lady.

Oli. A comfortable doctrine, and much may be said of it. Where lies the 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
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 I wear this present: is’t not well done?

[unveiling. Vio. Excellently done, if god did all. Oli. 'Tis in grain, sir, ’twill endure wind and weather.

Vio. 'Tis beauty truly blent, whose red and white, Nature's own sweet and cunning hand lay'd on:



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and every

Lady, you are the cruell’ft 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 hardhearted: I will give out divers schedules of my beauty. It shall be inventoried; and particle and utensil labell’d to my will: as, item, two lips indifferent red: item, two gray eyes, with lids to them: item, one neck, one chin, and so forth. 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: 0, such love
Could be but recompenc’d, though you were crown'd
The nonpareil .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 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,
A gracious person : yet I cannot love him;
He might have took his answer long ago.
Vio. If I did love in


master's flame,
With such a suff'ring, such a deadly life,
In your denial I would find no sense:
I would not understand it.
Oli. What would


Vio. Make me a willow cabin at your gate,
And call upon my soul within the house;
Write loyal canto's of contemned love,
And sing them loud even in the dead of night;
Hollow your name to the reverberant hills,
And make the babling gossip of the air
Cry out, Olivia : 0, you should not rest
Between the elements of air and earth,
Vol. II.

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But you should pity me.

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

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

Oli. Get you to your lord;
I cannot love him : let him send no more;
Unless, perchance, you come to me again,
To tell me how he takes it: fare


I thank you for your pains; spend this for me.

Vio. I am no fee'd poft, lady, keep your purse;
My master, not myself, lacks recompence.
Love make his heart of Aint, that you shall love;

And let your fervour, like my master's, be
Plac'd in contempt! Farewel, fair cruelty.

[Exit. Oli. What is your parentage ? Above my fortunes, yet my flate 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 fastSoft, soft, unless the man the master were. How now? even so quickly may one catch The plague? methinks, I feel this youth's perfe&ions, With an invisible and fubtile stealth 1 To creep in at mine eyes. Well, let it be. --What hoa, Malvolio!

Enter Malvolio.
Mal. Here, madam, at your fervice.

Oli. Run after that fame peevith messenger,
The duke's man; he left here this ring behind him,
Would I, or not: tell him, I'll none of it.
Desire 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 reason for’t. Hie thee, Malvolio.


Mal. Madam, I will.

[Exit. Oli. I do I know not what, and fear to find Mine eye too great a flatterer for my

mind: Fate, thow thy force: ourselves we do not owe; What is decreed must be; and be this fo!


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Enter Antonio, and Sebastian.

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

with you? Seb. By your patience, no: my stars shine darkly over me; the malignancy of my fate might, perhaps, distemper yours ; therefore I crave of you your leave, that I may


evils alone : it were a bad recompence for your love, to lay any of

W with you?

them on you.

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

Seb. No, footh, fir; 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 call’d Rodorigo; my father was that Sebastian of Metelin, 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 so ended ! but you, sir, alter'd that; for, fome hours before

you took me from the breach of the sea, was my sister drown'd. Ant. Alas the day!

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Seb. A lady, sir, who, though it was said she much resembled 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 a mind that envy could not but call fair : she is drown'd already, fir, with salt water, though I seem to drown her remembrance again with more.

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 be 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 bosom is full of kindness; and I am yet so near the manners of my mother, that, upon the least occasion more, mine eyes will tell tales of me: I am bound to the duke Orfino's court; farewel.


. Ant. The gentleness of all the gods go with thee ! I have made enemies in Orfino's court, Else would I very shortly see thee there: But, come what may, I do adore thee so, That danger shall seem sport, and I will go.


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

Vio. Even now, sir; on a moderate pace I have since arriv’d but hither.

Mal. She returns this ring to you, fir; for being your lord's she'll none of it. 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 fo. Vio. She took the ring of me, I'll none of it.


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