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very shrewishly; one would think, his mother's milk were scarce out of him.
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 honourable 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 least sinister usage.
Ŏli. 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.
Vio. Alas, I took great pains to study it, and 'tis poetical.
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 dia. logue.
Mar. Will you hoist sail, sir? here lies your way. Vio. No, good swabber: I am to hull here a little longer. Some mollification for your giant,1 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. 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
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 secret as maidenhead: 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?
(1) It appears from several parts of this play, that the original actress of Maria was very short.
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 negociate 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 God did all.
Oli. 'Tis in grain, sir; 'twill endure wind and weather.
Vio. 'Tis beauty truly blent,2 whose red and
Nature's own sweet and cunning hand laid on:
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: as, item, two lips indifferent red; item, two grey 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;
The nonpareil of beauty!
Yet I suppose him virtuous, know him noble,
(2) Blended, mixed together.
Of great estate, of fresh and stainless youth;
Vio. If I did love you in my master's flame,
Why, what would you? Vio. Make me a willow cabin at your gate, And call upon my soul within the house; Write loyal cantons2 of contemned love, And sing them loud even in the dead of night; Holla your name to the reverberate hills, And make the babbling gossip of the air Cry out, Olivia! O, you should not rest Between the elements of air and earth, 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.
Get you to your lord;
Vio. I am no fee'd post,4 lady; keep your purse;
Above my fortunes, yet my state is well:
(1) Well spoken of by the world.
-I'll be sworn thou art;
I am a gentleman.-
Unless the master were the man.-How now?
Mal. Here, madam, at your service. Oli. Run after that same peevish messenger, The county's2 man: he left 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 reasons 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, show thy force: ourselves we do not owe ;3 What is decreed, must be; and be this so! [Exit.
SCENE I-The sea-coast.
Enter Antonio and
Ant. Will you stay no longer? nor will you not, that I go with you?
Seb. By your patience, no: my stars shine dark
(1) Proclamation of gentility.