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Vio. 'Tis beauty truly blent, whose red and white
Nature's own sweet and cunning hand laid on :
Lady, you are the cruell'It she alive,
If you will lead these graces to the grave,
And leave the world no copy.

Oli. O, fir, I will not be so hard-hearted: I will give you diverse schedules of my beauty. It shall be inventoried, and every particle and utensil labellid 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?

V10. 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: 0, such love
Could be but recompens'd, tho' you were crown'd
The non-pareil of beauty!

Oli. How does he love me?

Vio. With adorations, with fertile tears, With groans that thunder love, with fighs of fire.

Oli. Your lord does know my mind, I cannot love him;
Yet I suppose him virtuous, know him noble,
Of great estate, of frefh and stainless youth ;
In voices well divulg'd; free, learn’d, and valiant ;
And in dimension, and the thape of nature,
A gracious person; but yet I cannot love him :
He might have took his answer long ago.

V10. If I did love you in my master's flame,
With such a suff'ring, such a deadly life,
In your denial I would find no fense :
I would not understand it.

Oli. Why, what would you do?
Vio. Make me a willow cabbin at your gate,

lord;

And call upon my foul within the house ;
Write loyal canto's of contemned love,
And sing them loud even in the dead of night:
Hollow your name to the reverberant hills,
And make the babling goffip of the air
Cry out, Olivia ! 0, you should not rest
Between the elements of air and earth,
But you should pity me.

Oli. You might do much :
What is your pareatage ?

Vio. Above my fortunes, yet my state is well:
I am a gentleman.
Oli. Get

you to

your
I cannot love him: let him send no more!
Unless, perchance you come to me again,
To tell me how he takes it; fare you well;
I thank you for your pains ; spend this for me.

V10. I am no fee'd post, lady, keep your purse :
My master, not myself, lacks

recompence.
Love make his heart of flint, that you shall love,
And let your fervour, like my master's, be
Plac'd in contempt ! farewel, fair cruelty.

(Exit. Ols. What is your parentage ?

Above my fortunes, yet my state is well:
“ I am a gentleman.” -I'll be sworn thou art.
Thy tongue, thy face, thy limbs, actions, and spirit,
Do give thee five-fold blazon not too fast -foft! soft!
Unless thy master were the man.

-How now?
Even so quickly may one catch the plague !
Methinks, I feel this youth's perfections,
With an invisible and subtile stealth,
To creep in at mine eyes. Well, let it be-

?

What ho, Malvolio,

Enter Malvolio.
MAL. Here, madam, at your service.

Oli. Run after that fame peevifli meffenger,
The duke'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 ; [am not for him :
If that the youth will come this way to-morrow,
I'll give him reasons for't. Hye thee, Malvolio.

MAL. Madam, I wil,

Oli. I do, I know not what: and fear to find Mine eye too great a flatterer for

my

mind: Fate, shew thy force : ourselves we do not owe; What is decreed, must be : and be this fo!

(Exit.

A CT II.

SCENE I.

The Street.
Enter Antonio and Sebastian.

ANTONIO.

W with you

FILL 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, dislemper yours ; therefore I shall crave of you your leave, that I may hear my evils alone. It were a bad recompence of your love, to lay any of them on you.

Ant. Let me yet know of you, whither you are bound.

SEB. No, in footh, fir, my determinate voyage is meer extravagancy : but I perceive in you so excellent a touch of modely, that you will not extort from me what I am wil

Ting to keep in; therefore it charges me in manners the rether to express myself: you must know of me then, Antonio, my name is Sebastian; which I call’d Rodorigo; my father was that Sebastian of Meilaline, whom, I know, you have heard of. He left behind him, myself and a filter, both born in one hour'; if the heaven's had been pleas’d, would we had so ended! but you, sir, altered that; for, fome hour before you took me from ike breach of the sea, was my filter drown'd.

ANT. Alas, the day!

SEB. A lady, Âr, tho' it was said the much resembled me, was yet of many accounted beautiful, but tho' I could not with such estimable wonder over far believe that, yet thus far I will boldly publish her, the bore a mind that envy could not but call fair : she is drown'd already, fir, with falt water, tho' I seem to drown her remembrance again

with more.

Faje ye

Ant. Pardon me, fir, your bad entertainment.
SEB. O good Antonio, forgive me your trouble.

ANT. If you will noi murther me for my love, let me be your fervant.

SEB. If you will got undo what you have done, that is, kill him whom you have recoverd, desire it not. well at once ; my bosom is full of kindness, and I am yet so near the manners of my mother, that upon the least occasion more, mine eyes will tell tales of me: I am bound ta the Duke Orsino's court; farewel.

(Exit. Ant. The gentleness of all the gods go with thee ! I have made enemies in Orsino's court, Elle would I very shortly see thee there : But come what may, I do adore thee so, The danger shall seem sport, and I will go.

[Exit.

SCENE II. Enter Viola and Malvolio, at several doors.

Mal. Were not you e'en now with the Countess Olivia?

V10. Even now, fir; on a moderate pace I have since arrived but hither.

Mal. She returns this ring to you, fir; 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 never be 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, fir, you peevishly threw it to her, and her will is, it should be so return'd: if it be worth stooping for, there it lyes 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 !
She made good view of me; indeed, so much,
That, sure, methought her eyes had lost her tongue :
For she did speak in starts distractedly:
She loves me, sure; the cunning of her passion
Invites me in this churlish messenger.
None of my lord's ring : why, he sent her none.
I am the man-If it be fo, (as, 'tis ;)
Poor lady, she were better love a dream.
Disguise, I see, thou art a wickedness,
Wherein the pregnant enemy does much.
How easie is it, for the proper false
In women's waxen hearts to set their forms!
Alas our frailty is the cause, not we,
For such as we are made, if such we be.
How will this fadge ? my master loves her dearly,
And I, poor monster, fond as much on him;

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