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at your door like a sheriff's post"), and 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,
will you, or no.

Oli. Of what personage, and years, is he?

Nal. Not yet old enough for a man, nor young
enough for a boy; as a squash is before 'tis a peascod,
or a codling when 'tis almost an apple : 'tis with him
e'en standing water, between boy and man. He is
very well-favour'd, 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.

[Erit.

Re-enter MARIA.

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 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 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 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 saucy at my gates ; and 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 moon with me, to make one in so skipping a dialogue,

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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.

Oli. Tell me your mind.
Vio. I am a messenger.

Oli. Sure, you have some hideous matter to deliver, when the courtesy 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 maidenhead: to your ears, divinity ; to any other's, prophanation.

Oli. Give us the place alone : we will hear this 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.

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