at your door like a fheriff's poft *, and be the supporter to a bench, but he'll speak with you. Oli. What kind o' man is he? Oli. What manner of man? Mal. Of very ill manners; he'll fpeak 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 fquash 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 favoured, and he fpeaks very fhrewifhly; one would think his mother's milk were fcarce out of him. Oli. Let him approach: call in my gentlewoman. Mal. Gentlewoman, my Lady calls. SCENE IX. Enter Maria. [Exit. Oli. Give me my veil: come, throw it o'er my face; We'll once more hear Orfino's embaffy. Enter Viola. Vio. The honourable lady of the house, which is she? Oli. Speak to me, I shall answer for her: your will? Vio. Moft radiant, exquifite, and unmatchable beauty I pray you, tell me, if this be the lady of the houfe, for I never faw her. I would be loth to caft away my fpeech; for, befides that it is excellently well penn'd, I have taken great pains to con it. Good beauties, let me fuftain no fcorn; 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 *Heretofore all proclamations by the King, all appointments of the rates of wages by the juftices of peace, and other things of the like nature, were fent to the sheriff of each county, who was obliged to promulgate them, not only by caufing them to be read in every market-town, but by affixing them to fome convenient place within it; for which purpofe great pofts or pillars were erected' in each fuch town, and there were called fheriff's posts. † Comptible, for ready to call to account, · me modeft affurance, 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 fwear 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 fhe, you do ufurp yourfelf; 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 fhew you the heart of my meffage. : Oli. Come to what is important in 't: I forgive you the praife. 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 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 fo fkipping a dialogue. Mar. Will you hoift fail, Sir, here lies your way. Vio. No, good fwabber, I am to hull here a little longer. Some mollification for your giant, fweet Lady. Oli. Tell me your mind. Vio. I am a meffenger. Oli. Sure you have fome hideous matter to deliver, when the courtesy of it is so fearful. fice. Speak your of 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 rudenefs 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. Moft fweet Lady, VOL. III. I Oli. A comfortable doctrine, and much may be faid of it. Where lies your text? 1 Vio. In Orfino's bofom. Oli. In his bofom! in what chapter of his bofom? 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 fee your face. Oli. Have you any commiffion from your Lord to negotiate 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 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, whofe red and white If you will lead these graces to the grave, Oli. O, Sir, I will not be fo hard-hearted: I will give out divers schedules of my beauty. It fhall be inventoried, 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 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 Oli. How does he love me? Vio. With adorations, with fertile tears, With groans that thunder love, with fighs of fire. him; Yet I fuppofe him virtuous, know him noble, Of great eftate, of fresh and stainless youth; A gracious perfon; but yet I cannot love him : Vio. If I did love you in my master's flame, Oli. Why, what would you do? Vio. Make me a willow cabbin at your gate, 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 send no more; Above my fortunes, yet my state is well : I am a gentleman. I'll be fworn thou art. [Exit. Thy tongue, thy face, thy limbs, actions, and spirit, Do give thee fivefold blazon foft! Unless the mafter were the man. -Not too faft -foft! How now? Even fo quickly may one catch the plague ? With an invifible and fubtile ftealth, To creep in at mine eyes. What ho, Malvolio, Well, let it be Enter Malvolio. Mal. Here, Madam, at your service. Oli. Run after that fame peevish messenger, Oli. I do I know not what; and fear to find [Exit. [Exit. ACT II. SCENE I. The Street. Enter Antonio, and Sebaftian. · Antonio. W' Ill you ftay no longer? nor will you Seb. By your patience, no: my ftars fhine darkly over me; the malignancy of my fate might, perhaps, diftemper your's; therefore I fhall 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 fo 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 exprefs myfelf. You must know of me then, Antonio, my name is Sebaftian; which I call'd Rodorigo; my father was that Sebaftian of Meffaline, whom I know you have heard of. He left behind him, myself, and a fifter, both born in one hour; if the heav'ns had been pleas'd, would we had fo ended! |