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

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

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

Oli. Tell me your mind.

Vio. I am a meffenger.

Oli. Sure, you have fome hideous matter to deliver, when the courtesy 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 a maidenhead; to your ears, divinity; to any others, prophanation.

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

Vio. Moft fweet lady.

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

Vio. In Orfino's bosom.

Oli. In his bofom? 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 herefy. Have you no more to fay?

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 show you the picture. Look you, fir, fuch a one I wear this prefent: is't not well done?


Vio. Excellently done, if god did all.

Oli. 'Tis in grain, fir, 'twill endure wind and weather.
Vio. 'Tis beauty truly blent, whofe red and white,
Nature's own fweet and cunning hand lay'd on:


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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, fir, I will not be fo hardhearted: I will give out divers schedules of my beauty. It shall be inventoried; and every particle and utenfil 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 fo forth. Were you sent 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 master loves you: o, 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 dimenfion and the fhape of nature,
A gracious perfon: yet I cannot love him;
He might have took his answer long ago.

Vio. If I did love you in my master's flame,
With fuch a fuff'ring, fuch a deadly life,
In your denial I would find no sense:

I would not understand it.

Oli. What would you do?

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





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 to


you your

I cannot love him: let him send no more;
Unless, perchance, you come to me again,
To tell me how he takes it: fare you well:
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 flint, that you shall 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 fate 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, foft, unless the man the mafter were.
How now? even fo quickly may one catch
The plague? methinks, I feel this youth's perfections,
With an invifible and fubtile ftealth!

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Enter Malvolio.

Mal. Here, madam, at your service.
Oli. Run after that fame peevifh meffenger,
The duke's man; he left here 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 reason for't. Hie thee, Malvolio.



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

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W with you?

Seb. By your patience, no: my stars fhine darkly over me; the malignancy of my fate might, perhaps, diftemper yours; therefore I crave of you your leave, that I may bear my evils alone: it were a bad recompence for your love, to lay any of 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 exprefs myself: you must know of me then, Antonio, my name is Sebaftian, which I call'd Rodorigo; my father was that Sebaftian 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 fo ended! but you, fir, alter'd that; for, fome hours before you took me from the breach of the fea, was my fifter drown'd.

Ant. Alas the day!


Seb. A lady, fir, 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: fhe is drown'd already, fir, with falt water, though I seem to drown her remembrance again with more.

Ant. Pardon me, fir, 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, defire 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 leaft occafion 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,
Elfe would I very shortly see thee there:
But, come what may, I do adore thee fo,
That danger shall seem sport, and I will go.



Enter Viola, and Malvolio at feveral doors.

Mal. Were not you e'en now with the countess Olivia? Vio. Even now, fir; on a moderate pace I have fince 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 faved me my pains, to have taken it away yourself. She adds moreover, that you should put your lord into a defperate affurance, fhe will none of him. And one thing more, that you be never fo 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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