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Samuel Johnson [1778], The plays of William Shakspeare. In ten volumes. With the corrections and illustrations of various commentators; to which are added notes by Samuel Johnson and George Steevens. The second edition, Revised and Augmented (Printed for C. Bathurst [and] W. Strahan [etc.], London) [word count] [S10901].
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SCENE II. Enter Viola and Malvolio, at several doors.

Mal.

Were not you even now 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, sure2 note, methought 3 note


her eyes had lost her tongue,

-- 186 --


For she did speak in starts distractedly.
She loves me, sure; the cunning of her passion
Invites me in this churlish messenger.
None of my lord's ring! why, he sent her none.
I am the man;—If it be so, (as 'tis)
Poor lady, she were better love a dream.
Disguise, I see, thou art a wickedness,
Wherein 4 note

the pregnant enemy does much.
How easy is it, for the proper false5 note








-- 187 --


In women's waxen hearts to set their forms!
Alas, our frailty6 note is the cause, not we;
For, such as we are made, if such we be.
How will this fadge7 note








? My master loves her dearly;
And I, poor monster, fond as much on him;
And she, mistaken, seems to dote on me:
What will become of this? As I am man,
My state is desperate for my master's love;
As I am woman, now alas the day!
What thriftless sighs shall poor Olivia breathe?
O time, thou must untangle this, not I;
It is too hard a knot for me to untye. [Exit.
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Samuel Johnson [1778], The plays of William Shakspeare. In ten volumes. With the corrections and illustrations of various commentators; to which are added notes by Samuel Johnson and George Steevens. The second edition, Revised and Augmented (Printed for C. Bathurst [and] W. Strahan [etc.], London) [word count] [S10901].
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