SCENE Enter Maria. IX. IVE me my veil: come, throw it o'er my Olis GIVE face: We'll once more hear Orfino's embassy. Enter Viola. Vio. The honourable Lady of the house, which is fhe? Oli. Speak to me, I shall answer for her: your will? Vio. Moft radiant, exquifite, and unmatchable Beauty I pray you, tell me, if this be the Lady. of the house, for I never faw her. I would be loth to caft away my fpeech; for, befides that it is excellently well penn'd, I have taken great pains to con it. Good Beauties, let me fuftain no fcorn ; I am very comptible, even to the least finister usage. Óli. Whence came you, Sir? * Vio. I can fay little more than I have studied, and that Queftion's out of my Part. Good gentle One, give me modeft affurance, if you be the Lady of the houfe, 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 fwear, I am not that I play. Are you the Lady of the house? Oli. If I do not ufurp myself, I am. Vio. Most certain, if you are fhe, you do ufurp yourself; for what is yours to bestow, is not yours to referve; but this is from my Commiffion. I will on with my speech in your praife, and then fhew you the heart of my message. *I am very comptible,] Comptible for ready to call to Account. 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 feign'd. I pray you, keep it in. I heard you were faucy at my gates; and I allow'd 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 the moon with me, to make one in fo fkipping a dialogue. Mar. Will hoift fail, Sir, here lies your way. you Vio. No, good swabber, 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 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 hand: my words are as full of peace as matter. Oli. Yet you began rudely. What are you? what would you? in my 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. -tell me your mind, I am a messenger.] Thefe Words muft be divided between the two Speakers thus, Oli. Tell me your mind. Vio. I am a messenger, Viola growing troublesome, Olivia would difmifs her, and therefore cuts her fhort with this Command. Tell me your mind. The other taking Advantage of the Ambiguity of the Word Mind, which fignifies either Bufinefs or Inclinations, replies as if she had used it in the latter Senfe, I am a messenger. 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 firft 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. Look you, Sir, such a one I wear this prefent: is't not well done? [Unveiling. Vio. Excellently donc, 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 fweet and cunning hand laid on: Lady, you are the cruell'ft She alive, If you will lead these graces to the Grave, Oli. O, Sir, I will not be fo hard-hearted: I will give out diverse 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 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 Yet I fuppofe him virtuous, know him noble, Oli. Why, what would you do? Vio, Make me a willow cabin at your gate, And call upon my foul within the houfe; Write loyal canto's of contemned love, And fing them loud even in the dead of night: Hollow your name to the reverberate hills, Back Oli. You might do much : 4:21 Lob I Vio. Above my fortunes, yet my ftate is well? I am a gentleman. Oli. Get you to your Lord; I cannot love him: let him fend no more; ¥t 1f! I am a gentleman - I'll be fworn thou art. Thy tongue, thy face, thy limbs, actions, and spirit, 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? 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 fort. Hye 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, fhew thy force; ourselves we do not owe; What is decreed, muft be; and be this fo! [Exit. A C T II. SCENE I, The STREET. Enter Antonio and Sebaftian. ΑΝΤΟΝΙΟ. W that I go with you? ILL you ftay no longer ? nor will you not, Seb. By your patience, no: my ftars shine darkly over me; the malignancy of my fate might, perhaps, distemper |