475may proceede in my speech.

476Ol. Are you a Comedian?

477Vio. No my profound heart: and yet (by the verie

478phangs of malice, I sweare) I am not that I play. Are you

479the Ladie of the house?

480Ol. If I do not vsurpe my selfe, I am.

481Vio. Most certaine, if you are she, you do vsurp your

482selfe: for what is yours to bestowe, is, not yours to re-

483serue. But this is from my Commission: I will on with

484my speech in your praise, and then shew you the heart of

485my message.

486Ol. Come to what is important in't: I forgiue you

487the praise.

488Vio. Alas, I tooke great paines to studie it, and 'tis

489Poeticall.

490Ol. It is the more like to be feigned, I pray you keep

491it in. I heard you were sawcy at my gates, & allowd your

492approach rather to wonder at you, then to heare you. If

493you be not mad, be gone: if you haue reason, be breefe:

494'tis not that time of Moone with me, to make one in so

495skipping a dialogue.

496Ma. Will you hoyst sayle sir, here lies your way.

497Vio. No good swabber, I am to hull here a little lon-

498ger. Some mollification for your Giant, sweete Ladie;

499tell me your minde, I am a messenger.

500Ol. Sure you haue some hiddeous matter to deliuer,

501when the curtesie of it is so fearefull. Speake your office.

502Vio. It alone concernes your eare: I bring no ouer-

503ture of warre, no taxation of homage; I hold the Olyffe

504in my hand: my words are as full of peace, as matter.

505Ol. Yet you began rudely. What are you?

506What would you?

507Vio. The rudenesse that hath appear'd in mee, haue I

508learn'd from my entertainment. What I am, and what I

509would, are as secret as maiden-head: to your eares, Di-

510uinity; to any others, prophanation.

511Ol. Giue vs the place alone,

512We will heare this diuinitie. Now sir, what is your text?

513Vio. Most sweet Ladie.

514Ol. A comfortable doctrine, and much may bee saide

515of it. Where lies your Text?

516Vio. In Orsinoes bosome.

517Ol. In his bosome? In what chapter of his bosome?

518Vio. To answer by the method, in the first of his hart.

519Ol. O, I haue read it: it is heresie. Haue you no more

520to say?

521Vio. Good Madam, let me see your face.

522Ol. Haue you any Commission from your Lord, to

523negotiate with my face: you are now out of your Text:

524but we will draw the Curtain, and shew you the picture.

525Looke you sir, such a one I was this present: Ist not well

526done?

527Vio. Excellently done, if God did all.

528Ol. 'Tis in graine sir, 'twill endure winde and wea-

529ther.

530Vio. Tis beauty truly blent, whose red and white,

531Natures owne sweet, and cunning hand laid on:

532Lady, you are the cruell'st shee aliue,

533If you will leade these graces to the graue,

534And leaue the world no copie.

535Ol. O sir, I will not be so hard-hearted: I will giue

536out diuers scedules of my beautie. It shalbe Inuentoried

537and euery particle and vtensile labell'd to my will: As,

538Item two lippes indifferent redde, Item two grey eyes,

539with lids to them: Item, one necke, one chin, & so forth.

540Were you sent hither to praise me?

541Vio. I see you what you are, you are too proud:

542But if you were the diuell, you are faire:

543My Lord, and master loues you: O such loue

544Could be but recompenc'd, though you were crown'd

545The non-pareil of beautie.

546Ol. How does he loue me?

547Vio. With adorations, fertill teares,

548With groanes that thunder loue, with sighes of fire.

549Ol. Your Lord does know my mind, I cannot loue him

550Yet I suppose him vertuous, know him noble,

551Of great estate, of fresh and stainlesse youth;

552In voyces well divulg'd, free, learn'd, and valiant,

553And in dimension, and the shape of nature,

554A gracious person; But yet I cannot loue him:

555He might haue tooke his answer long ago.

556Vio. If I did loue you in my masters flame,

557With such a suffring, such a deadly life:

558In your deniall, I would finde no sence,

559I would not vnderstand it.

560Ol. Why, what would you?

561Vio. Make me a willow Cabine at your gate,

562And call vpon my soule within the house,

563Write loyall Cantons of contemned loue,

564And sing them lowd euen in the dead of night:

565Hallow your name to the reuerberate hilles,

566And make the babling Gossip of the aire,

567Cry out Oliuia: O you should not rest

568Betweene the elements of ayre, and earth,

569But you should pittie me.

570Ol. You might do much:

571What is your Parentage?

572Vio. Aboue my fortunes, yet my state is well:

573I am a Gentleman.

574Ol. Get you to your Lord:

575I cannot loue him: let him send no more,

576Vnlesse (perchance) you come to me againe,

577To tell me how he takes it: Fare you well:

578I thanke you for your paines: spend this for mee.

579Vio. I am no feede poast, Lady; keepe your purse,

580My Master, not my selfe, lackes recompence.

581Loue make his heart of flint, that you shal loue,

582And let your feruour like my masters be,

583Plac'd in contempt: Farwell fayre crueltie. Exit

584Ol. What is your Parentage?

585Aboue my fortunes, yet my state is well;

586I am a Gentleman. Ile be sworne thou art,

587Thy tongue, thy face, thy limbes, actions, and spirit,

588Do giue thee fiue-fold blazon: not too fast: soft, soft,

589Vnlesse the Master were the man. How now?

590Euen so quickly may one catch the plague?

591Me thinkes I feele this youths perfections

592With an inuisible, and subtle stealth

593To creepe in at mine eyes. Well, let it be.

594What hoa, Maluolio.

596Mal. Heere Madam, at your seruice.

597Ol. Run after that same peeuish Messenger

598The Countes man: he left this Ring behinde him

599Would I, or not: tell him, Ile none of it.

600Desire him not to flatter with his Lord,

601Nor hold him vp with hopes, I am not for him:

602If that the youth will come this way to morrow,

603Ile giue him reasons for't: hie thee Maluolio.

604Mal. Madam, I will. Exit.

605Ol. I do I know not what, and feare to finde

606Mine eye too great a flatterer for my minde: