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And, in dimension, and the shape of nature,
A gracious person : but 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 suffering, such a deadly life,
In your denial I would find no sense,
I would not understand it.
Oli.

Why, what would you ?
Vio. Make me a willow cabin at your gate,
And call upon my soul within the house;
Write loyal cantons of contemned love,
And sing them loud even in the dead of night;
Holla your name to the reverberate hills,
And make the babbling 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 your pains: spend this for me.

Vio. I am no fee'd post, lady: keep your purse;
My master, not myself, lacks recompense.
Love makes his heart of flint, that you shall love;
And let your fervor, like my master's, be
Plac'd in contempt! Farewell, fair cruelty,

Oli. What is your parentage ?
Above my fortunes, yel 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 subtle stealth,
To creep in at mine eyes. Well, let it be.
What, ho, Malvolio !--

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:

Erit

Exit.

if that the youth will come this way to-morrow, I'll give hiin reasons for't. Hie thee, Malvolio.

Mal. Madam, I will.

Oli. I do I know not what: and fear to find Mine

eye too great a flatterer for my mind. Fate, show thy force : Ourselves we do not owe; What is decreed, must be; and be this so!

[Erit.

ACT II.

SCENE.-A Street.

Enter VIOLA; MALVOLIO following.
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 he 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 returned: 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 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 nonc. 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 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. 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 entangle this, not I;
It is too hard a knt for me to untie.

[Exit Viola becomes enamored of the Duke, and with exquisite delicacy describes her owu feelings, while professing to narrate her sister's story.

SCENE.-A Room in the Duke's Palace.

Enter DUKE, VIOLA, CURIO, and others.
Duke. Give me some music .--Now, good morrow,

friends :
Now, good Cesario, but that piece of song,
That old and antique song we heard last night :
Methought, it did relieve my passion much;
More than light airs and recollected terms,
Of these most brisk and giddy-paced times :
Come, but one verse.

Cur. He is not here, so please your lurdship, that should sing it.
Duke. Who was it?

Cur. Feste, the jester, my lord; a fool, that the lady Olivia's father took much delight in: he is about the house. Duke. Seek him out, and play the tune the while.

[Exit Curio.—Musice
Come hither, boy ; if ever thou shalt love,
In the sweet pangs of it, remember me :
For, such as I am, all true lovers are ;
Unstaid and skittish in all motions else,
Save, in the constant image of the creature
That is belov’d.-How dost thou like this tune ?

Vio. It gives a very echo to the seat
Where Love is thron'd.
Duke.

Thou dost speak masterly:
My life upon't, young though thou art, thine eye
Hath stay'd upon some favor that it loves ;
Hath it not, boy?
Vio.

A little, by your favor.
Duke. What kind of woman is't?
Vio.

Of your complexion.
Duke. She is not worth thee then. What years, i' faith ?
Vio. About your years, my lord.

Duke. Too old, by heaven. Let still the woman take
An elder than herself; so wears she to him,
So sways she level in her husband's heart.
For, boy, however we do praise ourselves,
Our fancies are more giddy and unfirm,
More longing, wavering, sooner lost and worn,
Than women's are.
Vio

I think it well, my lord.
Duke. Then let thy lovę be younger than thyself,
Or thy affection cannot hold the bent:

For women are as roses; whose fair flower,
Being once display'd, doth fall that very hour.

Vio. And so they are; alas, that they are so;
To die, even when they to perfection grow!

Duke. Once more, Cesario,
Get thee to yond' same sovereign cruelty :
Tell her, my love, more noble than the world,
Prizes not quantity of dirty lands;
The parts that fortune hath bestow'd upon her,
Tell her, I hold as giddily as fortune;
But 'tis that miracle, and queen of gems,
That nature pranks her in, attracts my soul.

Vio. But if she cannot love you, sir ?
Duke. I cannot be so answer’d.
Vio.

'Sooth, but you musi.
Say, that some lady, as, perhaps, there is,
Hath for your love as great a pang of heart
As

you have for Olivia : you cannot love her; You tell her so; Must she not then be answer'd ?

Duke. There is no woman's sides,
Can bide the beating of so strong a passion
As love doth give my heart: no woman's heart
So big, to hold so much; they lack retention.
But mine is all as hungry as the sea,
And can digest as much : make no compare
Between that love a woman can bear me,
And that I owe Olivia.
Vio.

Ay, but I know,-
Duke. What dost thou know?

Vio. Too well what love women to men may:
In faith, they are as true of heart as we.
My father had a daughter lov'd a man,
As it might be, perhaps, were I a woman,
I should your lordship.
Duke.

And what's her history?
Vio. A blank, my lord : She never told her love,
But let concealment, like a worm i' the bud,
Feed on her damask cheek: she pin’d in thought;
And, with a green and yellow melancholy,
She sat like patience on a monument,
Smiling at grief. Was not this love, indeed ?
We men may say more, swear more : but, indeed,
Our shows are more than will; for still we prove
Much in our vows, but little in our love.

Duke. But died thy sister of her love, my boy?

Vio. I am all the daughters of my father's house,
And all the brothers wo;—and yet I know not.
Sir, shall I to this lady?
Duke.

Ay, that's the theme.

To her in haste; give her this jewel; say,
My love can give no place, bide no denay.*

ACT III.

OLIVIA, and VIOLA. According to the Duke's instructions, Viola again presents herself to Olivia, but finde the lady unwilling to listen to Orsino's suit. The cause is explained in the following

scene,

Oli. Give me your hand, sir.
Vio. My duty, madam, and most humble service.
Oli. What is your name?
Vio. Cesario is your servant's name, fair princess.

Oli. My servant, sir ! 'Twas never merry world,
Since lowly feigning was call'd compliment :
You are servant to the count Orsino, youth.

Vio. And he is yours, and his must needs be yours ;
Your servant's servant is your servant, madam.

Oli. For him, I think not on him: for his thoughts,
Would they were blanks, rather than filled with me!

Vio. Madam, I come to whet your gentle thoughts
On his behalf :-
Oli.

O, by your leave, I pray you;
I bade you never speak again of him :
But, would you undertake another suit,
I had rather hear you to solicit that,
Than music from the spheres.
Vio

Dear lady,
Oli. Give me leave, I beseeeh you: I did send
After the last ?nchantment you did here,
A ring in chase of you ; so did I abuse
Myself, my servant, and, I fear me, you :
Under your hard construction must I sit,
To force that on you, in a shameful cunning,
Which you knew none of yours : What might you think?
Have you not set mine honor at the stake,
And baited it with all the unmuzzled thoughts
That tyrannous heart can think? To one of your receiving
Enough is shown; a cyprus, not a bosom,
Hides my poor heart : So let me hear you speak.

Vio. I pity you.
Oli. That's a degree to love.
Vio. No, not a step; for 'tis a vulgar proof,
That very oft we pity enemies.

Oli. Why, then, methinks, 'tis time to smile again.
O world, how apt the poor are to be proud!

* Denial.

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