Oli.
Give me my vail: come, throw it o'er my face;
We'll once more hear Orsino's embassy. Enter Viola.

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 loth 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.

Oli.

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 my self, I am.

Vio.

Most certain, if you are she, you do usurp your self; 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 shew 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 feign'd. I pray you keep it in. I heard you were sawcy 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 so skipping a dialogue.

Mar.

Will you hoist sail, Sir? here lyes your way.

Vio.

No, good swabber, I am to hull here a little longer. Some mollification for your giant, sweet lady: tell me your mind, I am a messenger.

Oli.

Sure you have some hideous matter to deliver, when the curtesie 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 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 secret as a maiden-head; to your ears, divinity; to any others, prophanation.

Oli.

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

Vio.

Most sweet lady.

Oli.

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

Vio.

In Orsino's bosom.

Oli.

In his bosom? 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 heresie. Have you no more to say?

Vio.

Good madam let me see your face.

Oli.

Have you any commission from your lord to negotiate with my face? you are now out of your text; but we will draw the curtain, and shew you the picture. Look you, Sir, such a one I was this present: is't not well done?

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:
Lady, you are the cruell'st she alive,
If you will lead these graces to the grave,
And leave the world no copy.

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 labell'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
Could be but recompenc'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 sighs 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 dimension and the shape of nature
A gracious person; 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 such a suff'ring, such a deadly life,
In your denial I would find no sense:
I would not understand it.

Oli.
Why, what would you do?

Vio.
Make me a willow cabin at your gate,
And call upon my soul within the house;
Write loyal cantos of contemned love,
And sing them loud even in the dead of night:
Hollow your name to the reverberate hills,
And make the babling 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.

Oli.
Get you to your lord;
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 you pains; spend this for me.

Vio.
I am no feed-post, lady; keep your purse:

My master, not my self, 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. [Exit.

Oli.
What is your parentage?
Above my fortunes, yet my state 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, soft,
Unless the master were the man. How now?
Even so quickly may one catch the plague?
Methinks I feel this youth's perfections,
With an invisible and subtile stealth
To creep in at mine eyes. Well, let it be—
What hoa, Malvolio. Enter Malvolio.

Mal.
Here, madam, at your service.

Oli.
Run after that same peevish messenger,
The Duke'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 reason for't. 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, shew thy force; our selves we do not owe;
What is decreed must be; and be this so. [Exit.

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