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 laid on : If you will lead these graces to the grave, 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, label'd 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; But, if you were the devil, you are fair. My lord and master loves you; O, such love Oli. 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, Vio. If I did love you in my master's flame, I would not understand it. Oli. Why, what would you? Vio. Make me a willow cabin at your gate, Blended, mixed together. Cantos, verses. 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, Love make his heart of flint, that you shall love; Above my fortunes, yet my state is well: I am a gentleman.—I'll be sworn thou art; Unless the master were the man.-How now? To creep in at mine eyes. Well, let it be- Re-enter MALVOLIO. Mal. Here, madam, at your service. Oli. Run after that same peevish messenger, The county's 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, shew thy force: ourselves we do not owe; $ What is decreed, must be; and be this so! • Messenger. Count. [Exit. + Proclation of gentility. ACT II. SCENE I.-The Sea-coast. Enter ANTONIO and SEBASTIAN. Ant. Will 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 shall 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, 'sooth, Sir; 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 Messaline, whom I know you have heard of: he left behind him, myself, and a sister, both born in an hour. If the heavens had been, pleased, 'would we had so ended! But, you, Sir, alter'd that: for, some hour before you took me 'from the breach of the sea, was my sister drown'd. Ant. Alas, the day! Seb. A lady, Sir, 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 will I boldly publish her, she bore a mind that envy could not but call fair: she is drown'd already, Sir, 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 servant. 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 * Reveal. eyes will tell tales of me. I am bound to the count Orsino's court: farewell. [Exit. Ant. The gentleness of all the gods go with thee! I have many enemies in Orsino'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. SCENE II-A Street. Enter VIOLA; MALVOLIO following. [Exit. Mal. Were not you now even 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 return'd: if it be worth stooping for, there it lies in your eye; if not, be it his that finds it. [Exit. 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. Poor lady, she were better love a dream. Wherein the pregnant enemy does much. How easy is it, for the proper-false + In women's waxen hearts to set their forms? Alas, our frailty is the cause, not we; For, such as we are made of, such we be. How will this fadge? My master loves her dearly; And I, poor monster, fond as much on him; • Dexterous, ready fiend. + Fair deceiver. Suit. And she, mistaken, seems to dote on me; What thriftless sighs shall poor Olivia breathe? SCENE III-A Room in OLIVIA's House. Enter Sir TOBY BELCH, and Sir ANDREW [Exit. Sir To. Approach, Sir Andrew: not to be a-bed after midnight, is to be up betimes; and diluculo surgere, thou know'st, Sir And. Nay, by my troth, I know not: but I know, to be up late, is to be up late. Sir To. A false conclusion; I hate it as an unfill'd can to be up after midnight, and to go to bed then, is early; so that, to go to bed after midnight, is to go to bed betimes. Do not our lives consist of the four elements? Sir And. 'Faith, so they say; but, I think, it rather consists of eating and drinking. Sir To. Thou art a scholar; let us therefore eat and drink. Marian, I say!a stoop of wine! Enter CLOWN. Sir And. Here comes the fool, i' faith. Clo. How now, my hearts? Did you never see the picture of we three? Sir To. Welcome, ass. Now let's have a catch. Sir And. By my troth, the fool has an excellent breast. I had rather than forty shillings I had such a leg; and so sweet a breath to sing, as the fool has. In sooth, thou wast in very gracious fooling last night, when thou spokest of Pigrogromitus, of the Vapians passing the equinoctial of Queubus; twas very good, i' faith. I sent thee six-pence for thy leman: Hadst it? Clo. I did impeticos thy gratillity: 6 for Malvolio's nose is no whipstock: my lady has a white hand, and the myrmidons are no bottle-ale houses. Sir And. Excellent! Why, this is the best fooling, when all is done. Now, a song. * Loggerheads be. + Voice. I did impeticoat thy gratuity. Mistress. |