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 1, 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, Oli. O, I have read it; it is heresy. Have you no more to say? 1 It appears from several parts of this play, that the original actress of Maria was very short. 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 shew you the picture. Look you, sir, such a one as I was this present': 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 cruel'st she alive, If you will 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 be inventoried; and every particle and utensil labelled to my will: as, item, two lips indifferent red; item, two grey 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 proud; But, if you were the devil, you are fair. My lord and master loves you; O, such love Could be but recompens'd, though 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 sighs of fire. Oli. Your lord does know my mind, I cannot love him: 1 Presents. VOL. 1. • Blended, mixed together. CC Yet I suppose him virtuous, know him noble, Vio. If I did love you in my master's flame, Oli. Why, what would you? Vio. Make me a willow cabin at your gate, Oli. You might do much: What is your pa rentage? Vio. Above my fortunes, yet my state is well; I am a gentleman. Oli. Get you to your lord; Vio. I am no fee'd post, lady; keep your purse; And let your fervour, like my master's, be Oli. What is your parentage ? soft! soft! Unless the master were the man. - How now? Mal. Re-enter MALVOLIO. 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 : If that the youth will come this way to-morrow, I'll give him reasons for't. Hie 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. 7 Proclamation of gentility. 9 Own, possess. • Count. ACT II. SCENE 1.- The Sea-coast. Enter ANTONIO and SEBASTIAN. Ant. Will you stay no longer? nor will 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 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 1 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 beau 1 Reveal. |