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And make the babbling golip of the air
Oli. You might do much: What is your parentage ?
Vio. Above my fortunes, yet my state is well :
Oli. Get you to your lord ;
Vio. I am no fee'd post, lady ; keep your purse ;
Oli. 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 ;-soft! soft! Unless the 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 subtle stealth, To creep in at mine eyes. Well, let it be.com What, ho, Malvolio !
Re-enter Malvolio. Mal. Here, madam, at your service.
Oli. Run after that same peevith messenger, The county's man: he left this ring behind him, Would I, or nof; tell him, I'll none of it.
Desire him not to flatter with his lord,
Mal. Madam, I will.
ACT II. SCENE I.
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 recompence for your love, to lay any of them on you.
Ant. Let me yet know of you, whither you are bound.
Seb. No, in footh, sir; my determinate voyage is meer 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 myself: You must know of me then,
Mine eye too great a flatterer for my mind. ]—I have form'd too fa yourable an idea of Cefario for prudence to suppress.- I have disclos'd to the youth more of my flame than I intended. k we do not owe; ]-have not the control of express]-reveal.
Antonio, Antonio, my name is Sebastian, which I call'd 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 pleas'd, would we had so ended ! but you, sir, alter'd that ; for, some hour before you took me from the breach of the sea, was my sister drown’d.
Ant. Alas, the day!
Seb. A lady, sir, though it was said she much resembled me, was yet of many accounted beautiful: but, though I could not, with such estimable wonder, over-far believe that, yet thus far I will boldly publish her, she bore a mind that envy could not but call fair : she is drown'd already, sir, with salt water, though I seem to drown her remembrance again with more.
Ant. Pardon me, sir, your bad entertainment.
Ant. If you will not murther me for my love, let me be your servant.
Seb. If you will not undo what you have done, that is, kill him whom you have recover'd, desire it not. Fare ye well at once: my bosom is full of kindness; and I am yet fo near the manners of my mother, that upon the least occasion more, mine eyes will tell tales of me. I am bound to the count Orsino's court : farewel. [Exit.
Ant. The gentleness of all the gods go with thee! I have many enemies in Orsino's court, Else would I very shortly see thee there ; But, come what may, I do adore thee so, That danger shall seem sport, and I will go. (Exit.
m with fuch eftimable wonder, over-far believe that,)-with so high a degree of admiration, fall in with that opinion altogether.
SCENE S C E N E II. · Enter Viola and Malvolio, at several doors. Mal. Were not you even now with the countess Olivia?
Vio. Even now, fir; on a moderate pace I have since arrived but hither.
Mal. She returns this ring to you, sir; you might have faved me my pains, to have taken it away yourself. She adds moreover, that you should put your lord into a delperate assurance she will none of him: And one thing more; that you be never 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, sir, you peevishly threw it to her; and her will is, it should be so return'd: if it be worth stooping for, there it lies in your eye ; if not, be it his that finds
(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 so, (as 'tis) Poor lady, she were better love a dream. Disguise, I see thou art a wickedness,
n her eyes had loft her tongue, ]-had deprived her of the proper use of it-they went such different ways, while that calked of the Duke, ibefe were bent on me.
Wherein the pregnant enemy does much.
Enter Sir Toby and Sir Andrew. Sir To. Approach, fir Andrew : 'not to be a-bed after midnight, is to be up betimes ; and diluculo surgere, thou know'st,
Sir And. Nay, by my troth, I know not : but I know, to be up late, is to be up late.
Sir To. A false conclusion; I hate it as an unfill'd can: To be up after midnight, and to go to bed then, is early;
• pregnant enemy)—subtle fiend.
P proper false in women's waxen hearts to set their forms ! ]-fair deceivers, handsome counterfeits-to make an impression on them. 4 fadge?]-suit, be reconciled among the parties. “We will have, if this fadge not, an antick. .
Love's LABOUR Lost, Ac V, Sc. I. Arm. s not to be a-bed after midnight, is to be up betimes ;] “ I am glad, I was up so late; for that's the reason I was up so early.”
CYMBELINE, AII, Sc. 3. Clot. VOL. II.