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 ufurp myself, I am.

Vio. Moft certain, if you are the, you do ufurp yourself; for what is your's to bestow, is not your's to referve: but this is from my commiffion. 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 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 so skipping a dialogue.

Mar. Will you hoist fail, Sir, here lies your way. Vio. No, good fwabber, I am to hull here a little longer. Some mollification for your giant, sweet lady. Oli. Tell me your mind. Vio. I am a messenger.

Oli. Sure you have fome hideous matter to deliver, when the courtesy of it is so fearful. Speak your of

fice.

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 fecret as maiden-head; to your ears, divinity; to any other's, profanation.

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

Vio. Most sweet lady,

VOL. III.

Oli. A comfortable doctrine, and much may be faid

of it. Where lies your text?

Vio. In Orfino's bosom.

Oli. In his bofom? 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 herefy. 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, fuch a one I wear this prefent; is't not well done? [Unveiling.

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 would 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 beinventoried, 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 sent hither to praise me 2 Vio. I fee 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 recompens'd, tho' you were crown'd

The nonpareil 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

him;

Yet I suppose him virtuous, know him noble,
Of great estate, of fresh and stainless youth;

In voices well divulge'd; free, learn'd, and valiant;

And in dimension, and the shape of nature,

A

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 fuch a fuff'ring, fuch a deadly life,
In your denial I would find no fenfe:
I would not understend it.

Oli. Why, what would you do?
Vio. Make me a willow cabbin at your gate,
And call upon my foul within the house;
Write royal canto's of contemned love,
And fing them loud even in the dead of night;
Hollow your name to the reverberate hills,
And make the babling goffip of the air
Cry out, Olivia! O, you should not reft
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 fend no more;
Unless, perohance, 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.

[Exit.

Vio. I am no fee'd poft, Lady; keep your purse: My master, not myself, lacks recompence. Love make his heart of flint that you shall love, And let your fervour, like my master's, be Place'd in contempt! farewel, fair cruelty. Oli. What is your parentage? Above my fortunes, yet my state is well : I am a gentleman - I'll be worn thou art. Thy tongue, thy face, thy limbs, actions, and spirit, Do give thee fivefold blazon- Not too faft-foft!

foft!

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 fubtle stealth,

To creep in at mine eyes. Well, let it be

What ho, Malvolio, -

Enter Malvolio..

Mal. Here, Madam, at your service.
Oli. Run after that fame peevish messenger,
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 reasons for't. Hie thee Malvolio.
Mad. 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; ourselves we do not owe; What is decreed, must be; and be this so!

Antonio.

W

The street.

11

[Exit.

1

٢٠٠

nor will

Enter Antonio, and Sebastian.. ILL you stay no longer? you not that I go with you? Seb. By your patience, no: my stars shine darkly over me; the malignancy of my fate might, perhaps, distemper your's; therefore I shall crave of you your leave, that I may bear my evils alone. It were a bad recompence for your love, to lay any of them on you.

Ant. Let me yet know of you, whither you are bound.

Seb. No, footh, Sir; my determinate voyage is mere extravagancy: but I perceive in you so excellent a touch of mode ty, that you will not extort from me what I am willing to keep in; therefore it charges me in manners the rather to express myself. You must know of me then, Antonio, my name is Sebastian; which I call'd Rodorigo; my father was that Sebastian of Messaline, whom I know you have heard of. He left behind him, myfelf, and a fifter, both born in one hour; if the heav'ns had been pleas'd, would we had so ended!

but

but you, Sir, alter'd that; for fome hours before you took me from the breach of the fea, was my fifter drown'd.

Ant. Alas, the day!"

1.

Seb. A lady, Sir, tho' it was faid she much resembled me, was yet of many accounted beautiful; but tho' I could not [with fuch eftimable wonder*] overfar believe that, yet thus far I will boldly publish her, she bore a mind that envy could not but call fair: the is drown'd already, Sir, with falt water, tho' I seem to drown her remembrance again with more.

Ant. Pardon me, Sir, your bad entertainment. Seb. O good Antonio, forgive me your trouble. Ant. If you will not murther me for my love, let me be your servant.

Seb. If you will not undo what you have done, that is, kill him whom you have recovered, defire it not. Fare you well at once; my bosom is full of kindness, and I am yet so near the manners of my mother, that upon the least occafion more, mine eyes will tell tales of me. I am bound to the Duke Orfino's court; farewel.. [Exit.

Ant. The gentleness of all the gods go with thee! I have made enemies in Orfino's court, Elfe would I very shortly fee thee there: But come what may, I do adore thee so, The danger shall feem sport, and I will go.

SCENE II.

[Exit

Enter Viola, and Malvolio, at several doors. Mal. Were not you e'en now with the Countess Olivia?

Vio. Even now, Sir; on a moderate pace I have fince arrived but hither.

Mal. She returns this ring to you, Sir; you might have faved me my pains, to have taken it away yourself. She adds, moreover, that you should put your lord into a defperate afsurance the 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 fo.

* This is an interpolation of the players.

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