Vio. 'Tis beauty truly blent, whose red and white Nature's own sweet and cunning hand laid on: 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 gray 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 But, if you were the devil, you are fair. Oli. love him: Yet I suppose him virtuous, know him noble, 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, 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: Vio. I am no fee'd post, lady; keep your purse; spirit, Do give thee five-fold blazon;-Not too fast: soft! soft! Unless the master were the man.-How now? Re-enter MALVOLIO. Mal. 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: If that the youth will come this way to-morrow, I'll give him 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! Here, madam, at your service. [Exit. [Exit. ACT II. SCENE I. The Sea Coast. Ant. Will you stay no longer? nor will you not, that I go with you? Seb. By your patience, no: my stars shiue darkly over me; the malignancy of my fate might, perhaps, distemper yours; therefore I shall crave of you your leave, that I may bear my evils alone: It were a bad recompense for your love, to lay any of them on you. Ant. Let me yet know of you, whither you are bound. Seb. No, 'sooth, sir; my determinate voyage is mere extravagancy. But I perceive in you so excellent a touch of modesty, 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 called Rodorigo: my father was that Sebastian of Messaline, whom, I know, you have heard of: he left behind him myself, and a sister, both born in an hour. If the heavens had been pleased, 'would we had so ended! but, you, sir, altered that; for, some hour before you took me from the breach of the sea, was my sister drowned. Ant. Alas, the day! Seb. A lady, sir, though it was said she much resembled me, was yet of many accounted beautiful: but, though I could not, with such estimable wonder, overfar believe that, yet thus far I will boldly publish her, she bore a mind that envy could not but call fair: she is drowned already, sir, with salt water, though 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 murder 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, desire it not. Fare ye well at once; my bosom Ant. The gentleness of all the gods go with I have many enemies in Orsino's court, SCENE II. A Street. Enter VIOLA; MALVOLIO following. W H A ! ta a t [Exit. n 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 be 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! tongue, For she did speak in starts distractedly. t ic ir t le & at Wherein the pregnant enemy does much. In women's waxen hearts to set their forms! Alas, our frailty is the cause, not we; [Exit. SCENE III. A Room in Olivia's House. Enter SIR TOBY BELCH, and SIR ANDREW AGUE CHEEK. Sir To. Approach, Sir Andrew: not to be abed after midnight, is to be up betimes; and diluculo surgere, thou know'st, Sir And. Nay, by my troth, I know not: but I know to be up late, is to be up late. Sir To. A false conclusion; I hate it as an unfilled can: To be up after midnight, and to go to bed then, is early; so that to go to bed after midnight, is to go to bed betimes. Do not our lives consist of the four elements? Sir And. 'Faith, so they say; but, I think, it rather consists of eating and drinking. Sir To. Thou art a scholar; let us therefore eat and drink.-Marian, I say!-a stoop of wine! Enter Clown. Sir And. Here comes the fool, i'faith. Clo. How now, my hearts? Did you never see the picture of we three? Sir To. Welcome, ass, now let's have a catch. Sir And. By my troth, the fool has an excellent breast. I had rather than forty shillings I had such a leg; and so sweet a breath to sing, as the fool has. In sooth, thou wast in very gracious fooling last night, when thou spokest of Pigrogromitus, of the Vapians passing the equinoctial of Queubus; 'twas very good, i'faith. I sent thee sixpence for thy leman: Hadst it? |