Mar. I know not, Madam, 'tis a fair young Man, and well attended. Oli. Who of my people hold him in delay ? Oli. Fetch him off, I pray you, he speaks nothing but madman: fie on him! Go you, Malvolio; if it be a fuit from the Count, I am fick, or not at home: : What you will, to dismiss it. (Exit Malvolio.] Now you fee, Sir, how your fooling grows old, and people diflike it. Clo. Thou hast spoke for us, Madona, as if thy eldest Son should be a fool: whose scull Jove cram with brains, for here comes one of thy Kin has a most weak Pia Mater! Enter Sir Toby. Oli. By mine honour, half drunk. What is he at the gate, Uncle? Sir To. A Gentleman. Oli. A Gentleman? what Gentleman ? Sir To. 'Tis a Gentleman. Here, [belches.] plague o' these pickle herring! how now, fot? Clo. Good Sir Toby, Oli. Uncle, Uncle, how have you come so 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 seek the Coroner, and let him fit o' my Uncle; 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 shall look to the madman. [Ex. Clown. Enter Enter Malvolio. Mal. Madam, yond young Fellow swears he will speak with you. I told him, you were fick; he takes on him to understand so much, and therefore comes to speak with you. I told him, you were asleep; he seems 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 shall not speak with me. Mal. He has been told so; and he says, he'll stand at your door like a Sheriff's post, 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 personage 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 peafcod, or a codling when 'tis almost an apple: 'tis with him in standing water, between boy and man. He is very well-favour'd, and he speaks very shrewithly; 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 veil: come, throw it o'er my face; We'll once more hear Orfino's embassy. Enter Viola. Vio. The honourable Lady of the house, which is she? Oli. Speak to me, I shall answer 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 saw her. I would be loth to caft away away my fpeech; for, besides that it is excellently well penn'd, I have taken great pains to con it. Good Beauties, let me sustain no scorn; I am very comptible, even to the least sinister usage. Oli. Whence came you, Sir? Vio. I can fay little more than I have studied, and that Question's out of my Part. Good gentle One, give me modest assurance, 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 swear, I am not that I play. Are you the Lady of the house? Oli. If I do not usurp my self, I am. Vio. Most certain, if you are the, you do ufurp your felf; for what is yours to bestow, is not yours to referve; but this is from my Commission. I will on with my speech in your praise, and then shew you the heart of my message. Oli. Come to what is important in't: I forgive you the praife. > Vio. Alas, I took great pains to study 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 skipping a dialogue. Mar. Will you hoift fail, Sir? here lyes your way. Vio. No, good fwabber, I am to hull here a little longer. Some mollification for your Giant, sweet Lady: tell me your mind, I am a Messenger. Oli. Sure, you have some hideous matter to deliver, when the courtefie of it is so fearful. Speak your of fice. 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. Vio 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 fecret as maiden-head; to your ears, divinity; to any other's, prophanation. Oli. Give us the place alone. (Exit Maria.) We will hear this divinity. Now, Sir, what is your text? Vio. Most sweet Lady, Oli. A comfortable Doctrine, and much may be faid of it. Where lyes your text ? Vio. In Orfino'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 herefie. Have you no more to say? Vio. Good Madam, let me fee 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. (3) Look you, Sir, fuch a one I wear this present: is't not well done? [Unveiling, Vio. Excellently done, if God did all. Nature's own sweet and cunning hand laid on: (3) Look you, Sir, such a one 1 was this present : is't not well done?] This is Nonsense: My Correction, I think, clears all up, and gives the Expression an Air of Gallantry. Viola presses to fee Olivia's Face: The other at length pulls off her Veil, and says; We will draw the Curtain, and show you the Picture. I wear this Complexion to day, I may wear another to morrow; jocularly intimating, that She painted. The Other, vext at the Jest, says, "Excellently done, if God did al." Perhaps, it may be true, what you say in Jest; other wise 'tis an excellent Face. 'Tis in Grain, &c. replies Olivia.. Mr. Warburton. Oli. O, Sir, I will not be so hard-hearted: I will give out diverse schedules of my beauty. It shall be inventoried, 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; 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, Vio. If I did love you in my master's flame, Oli. Why, what would you do? Vio. Make me a willow cabin at your gate, And call upon my soul within the house; And make the babling gossip of the air But you should pity me. ! (4) Hollow your Name to the reverberate Hills, I have, against the Authority of the printed Copies, corrected, reverberant. The Adjective Passive makes Nonfenfe. |