Sir To. 'Tis a Gentleman here. A Plague o'these pickle Herring: How now, Sot?

Clo. Good Sir Toby.

Oli. Coufin, Coufin, how have you come fo early by this Lethargy?

Sir To. Letchery, I defie Letchery: There's one at the Gate.

Oli. Ay marry, what is he?

Sir To. Let him be the Devil and 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 feek the Coroner, and let him fit 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, Madona, and the Fool fhall look to the Madman. Exit Clown.

Enter Malvolio.

Mal. Madam, yond young Fellow fwears he will fpeak with you. I told him you were fick, he takes on him to understand fo much, and therefore comes to speak with you. I told him you were afleep, he feems to have a Fore-knowledge of that too, and therefore comes to fpeak with you. What is to be faid to him, Lady? he's fortified against any Denial.

Oli. Tell him he fhall not fpeak with me.

Mal. Ha's been told fo; and he fays he'll ftand at your Door like a Sheriff's Poft, and be the Supporter to a Bench, but he'll speak with you.

Oli. What kind o'Man is he?

Mal. Why, of Mankind.

Oli. What manner of Man?

Mal. Of very ill Manners; he'll speak with you, will you

or no.

Oli. Of what Perfonage and Years is he.

Mal. 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 in ftanding Water, between Boy and Man. He is very well-favour'd, and he

fpeaks

peaks very fhrewifhly; 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.

Enter Maria.

[Exit.

Oli. Give me my Vail: Come, throw it o'er my Face; We'll once more hear Orfino's Embassy.

Enter Viola.

Vio. The honourable Lady of the Houfe, which is fhe? Oli. Speak to me, I fhall anfwer for her: Your Will? Vio. Most radiant, exquifite, and unmatchable Beauty---I pray you tell me if this be the Lady of the House, for I never faw her. I would be loath to caft away my Speech; for befides that it is excellently well penn'd, I have taken great Pains to con it. Good Beauties, let me fuftain no Scorn; I am very Comptible, even to the leaft finifter Ufage. Oli. Whence came you, Sir?

Vio. I can fay little more than I have ftudied, and that Queftion's out of my Part. Good gentle one, give me mo deft Affurance, if you be the Lady of the Houfe, that I may proceed in Speech.

Oli. Are you a Comedian?

Vio. No, my profound Heart; and yet, by the very Pangs of Malice, I fwear, I am not that I play. Are you the Lady of the House?

Oli. If I do not ufurp my felf, I am.

Vio. Moft certain, if you are fhe, you do ufurp your felf; for what is yours to beftow, is not yours to referve: But this is from my Commiffion. I will on with my Speech in your Praise, and then fhew you the Heart of my Meffage. Oli. Come to what is important in't: I forgive you the Praise.

Vio. Alas, I took great Pains to ftudy it, and 'tis Poetical.

Oli. It is the more like to be feign'd. I pray you keep it in. I heard you were fawcy at my Gates, and allow'd your Approach rather to wonder at you than to hear you. you be not mad, be gone; if you have Reafon, be brief; 'tis not the time of the Moon with me, to make one in fo skipping a Dialogue.

If

VOL. II.

Bb

Mar

Mar. Will you hoift Sail, Sir, here lyes your way.

Vio. No, good Swabber, I am to hull here a little long Some mollification for your Giant, fweet Lady: Tell your Mind, I am a Messenger,

Oli. Sure you have fome hideous Matter to deliver, whe the Curtefie of it is fo fearful. Speak your Office.

Vio. It alone concerns your Ear. I bring no Overture War, no Taxations of Homage; I hold the Olive in î 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 from my Entertainment. What I am, and what I would, ar as fecret as a Maiden-head; to your Ears, Divinity; to an others, Prophanation.

Oli. Give us the Place alone. [Exit Maria We will hear this Divinity. Now, Sir, what is your Text Vio. Moft fweet Lady.

Oli. A comfortable Doctrine, and much may be said of it. Where lyes the Text?

Vio. In Orfino's Bofom.

Oli. In his Bofom? In what Chapter of his Bofom? Vio. To answer by the Method, in the firft of his Heart. Oli. O, I have read it; it is Herefy. Have you no more to fay?

Vio. Good Madam let me fee your Face.

Oli. Have you any Commiffion from your Lord to nego tiate with my Face? You are now out of your Text; but we will draw the Curtain, and fhew you the Picture. Look you, Sir, fuch a one I was this prefent: Is't not well done? [Unveiling.

Vio. Excellently done, if God did all.

Oli. 'Tis in grain, Sir, 'twill endure Wind and Wea ther.

Vio. 'Tis Beauty truly blent, whofe red and white,
Nature's own fweet and cunning Hand laid on:
Lady, you are the cruell'ft She alive,

If you will lead thefe Graces to the Grave,

And leave the World no Copy.

Oli. O, Sir, I will not be fo hard-hearted: I will give out divers Schedules of my Beauty. It fhall be inventoried,

and

and every Particle and Utenfil labell'd to my Will. As, Item, two Lips indifferent red. Item, two grey Eyes, with Lids to them. Item, One Neck, one Chin, and fo forth. Were you fent hither to praise me?

Vio. I fee you what you are, you are too proud;
But if you were the Devil, you are fair.

My Lord and Mafter loves you: O fuch Love
Could be but recompenc'd, tho' you were crown'd
The Non-pareil 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 do's know my Mind, I cannot love him;
Yet I fuppofe him Virtuous, know him Noble,
Of great Eftate, of fresh and stainless Youth;
In Voices well divulg'd, free, learn'd, and valiant,
And in Dimenfion, and the Shape of Nature,
A gracious Perfon; but yet I cannot love him;
He might have took his Anfwer long ago.

Vio. If I did love you in my Mafter's Flame,
With fuch a Suff'ring, fuch a deadly Life:
In your Denial I would find no Senfe,
I would not understand it.

Oli. Why, what would you do?

Vio. Make me a Willow Cabin at your Gate,
And call upon my Soul within the House;
Write loyal Cantons 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 fhould 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, perchance, you come to me again,
Bb z

To

To tell me how he takes it; fare you well:
I thank you for your Pains; fpend this for me.
Vio. I am no Fee'd-poft, Lady; keep your Purse :
My Mafter, not my felf, lacks Recompence.
Love make his Heart of Flint, that you fhall love,
And let your Fervour like my Master's be,
Plac'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 fworn thou art,

[Exi

Thy Tongue, thy Face, thy Limb, Actions, and Spirit, Do give thee five-fold Blazon- -not too fast-----soft, soft,

Unless the Mafter were the Man. How now?

Even fo quickly may one catch the Plague?
Methinks I feel this Youth's Perfections,
With an invifible and fubtil Stealth

To creep in at mine Eyes. Well, let it be-
What hoa, 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 Reason for't by thee, Malvolio.

Mal. 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, fhew thy Force, our felves we do not owe;
What is decreed, muft be; and be this fo.

[Exit.

ACT