rail; nor no railing in a known discreet man, though he do nothing but reprove. Clo. Now, Mercury endue thee with leasing, for thou speakest well of fools. Re-enter MARIA. Mar. Madam, there is at the gate a young gentleman much desires to speak with you. Oli. From the count Orsino, is it? Mar. I know not, madam: 't is a fair young man, and well attended. Oli. Who of my people hold him in delay? Oli. Fetch him off, I pray you he speaks nothing but madman. Fie on him! [Exit MARIA.] Go you, Malvolio if it be a suit from the count, I am sick, or not at home; what you will, to dismiss it. [Exit MALVOLIO.] Now you see, sir, how your fooling grows old, and people dislike it. Clo. Thou hast spoke for us, madonna, as if thy eldest son should be a fool, whose skull Jove cram with brains; for here comes one of thy kin, that has a most weak pia mater. Enter Sir TOBY BELCH. Oli. By mine honour, half drunk.-What is he at the gate, cousin? Sir To. A gentleman. Oli. A gentleman! What gentleman? Sir To. T is a gentleman here.-A plague o' these pickle-herrings !—How now, sot? Clo. Good sir Toby, Oli. Cousin, cousin, how have you come so early by this lethargy? Sir To. Lechery! I defy lechery. There's one at the gate. Oli. Ay, marry; what is he? Sir To. Let him be the devil, an he will, I care not: give me faith, say I. Well, it's all one. Oli. What's a drunken man like, fool? [Exit. Clo. Like a drown'd man, a fool, and a madman: one draught above heat makes him a fool, the second mads him, and a third drowns him. Oli. Go thou and seek the coroner, and let him sit o' my coz, for he 's in the third degree of drink; he's drown'd go, look after him. Clo. He is but mad yet, madonna; and the fool shall look to the madman. [Exit Clown. Re-enter MALVOLIO. Mal. Madam, yond' young fellow swears he will speak with you. I told him you were sick: he takes on him to understand so much, and therefore comes to speak with you. I told him you were asleep: he seems to have a fore-knowledge of that too, and therefore comes to speak with you. What is to be said to him, lady? he's fortified against any denial. Oli. Tell him, he shall not speak with me. Mal. He has been told so; and he says, he'll stand at your door like a sheriff's post,' or2 be the supporter to a bench, but he'll speak with you. Oli. What kind of man is he? Mal. Why, of man kind. Oli. What manner of man? Mal. Of very ill manner: he'll speak with you, you, or no. Oli. Of what personage, and years is he? will Mal. Not yet old enough for a man, nor young enough for a boy; as a squash' is before 't is a peascod, or a codling when 't is almost an apple: 't is with him e'en standing water, between boy and man. He is very well-favoured, and he speaks very shrewishly: one would think, his mother's milk were scarce out of him. Oli. Let him approach. Call in my gentlewoman. Mal. Gentlewoman, my lady calls. Re-enter MARIA. [Exit. Oli. Give me my veil: 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 loath to cast away my speech; for, besides that it is excellently well penned, 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. 1 A post at the door of a sheriff, to which proclamations and placards were affixed. 2 and in fe. 3 An unripe pod. 4 Sensitive. 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 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 't is 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: 't is not that time of moon with me to make one in so skipping a dialogue. 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, sweet lady. Tell me your mind: I am a messenger. Oli. Sure, you have some hideous matter to deliver, when the courtesy of it is so fearful. Speak your office. I bring no over Vio. It alone concerns your ear. ture 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 maidenhead: to your ears, divinity; to any other's, profanation. Oli. Give us the place alone. We will hear this 1 Lie, or remain. 2 An allusion to the wardens of ladies in old romances. 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? 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 negotiate 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 I am at this present' is 't not well done? [Unveiling. Vio. Excellently done, if God did all. Oli. 'Tis in grain, sir: 't will endure wind and weather. Vio. 'Tis beauty truly blent, whose red and white 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, 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 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 Should be but recompens'd, though you were crown'd The nonpareil of beauty! Oli. How does he love me?' Vio. With adorations, 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, 1 I was this present: in f. e. In voices well divulg'd, free, learn'd, and valiant, 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, Oli. You might do much. What is your parentage? I am a gentleman. Oli. Get you to your lord: I cannot love him. Let him send no more, To tell me how he takes it. I thank you for your pains. Fare you well: [Offering her purse." Vio. I am no fee'd post, lady; keep your purse: My master, not myself, lacks recompense. Love make his heart of flint that you shall love, แ Above my fortunes, yet my state is well : I am a gentleman."-I'll be sworn thou art: [Exit. Thy tongue, thy face, thy limbs, actions, and spirit, soft! Unless the master were the man.-How now? Even so quickly may one catch the plague. |
