Enter SIR TOBY BELCH, and SIR ANDREW SIR TOBY BELCH Save you, gentleman. VIOLA And you, sir. SIR ANDREW Dieu vous garde, monsieur. VIOLA Et vous aussi; votre serviteur. SIR ANDREW I hope, sir, you are; and I am yours. SIR TOBY BELCH Will you encounter the house? my niece is desirous you should enter, if your trade be to her. VIOLA I am bound to your niece, sir; I mean, she is the list of my voyage. SIR TOBY BELCH Taste your legs, sir; put them to motion. VIOLA My legs do better understand me, sir, than I understand what you mean by bidding me taste my legs. SIR TOBY BELCH I mean, to go, sir, to enter. VIOLA I will answer you with gait and entrance.

But we are prevented.

Enter OLIVIA and MARIA Most excellent accomplished lady, the heavens rain odours on you! SIR ANDREW That youth's a rare courtier: 'Rain odours;' well. VIOLA My matter hath no voice, to your own most pregnant and vouchsafed ear. SIR ANDREW 'Odours,' 'pregnant' and 'vouchsafed:'

I'll get 'em all three all ready. OLIVIA Let the garden door be shut, and leave me to my hearing.

Exeunt SIR TOBY BELCH, SIR ANDREW, and MARIA Give me your hand, sir. VIOLA My duty, madam, and most humble service. OLIVIA What is your name? VIOLA Cesario is your servant's name, fair princess. OLIVIA My servant, sir! 'Twas never merry world Since lowly feigning was call'd compliment:

You're servant to the Count Orsino, youth. VIOLA And he is yours, and his must needs be yours:

Your servant's servant is your servant, madam. OLIVIA For him, I think not on him: for his thoughts, Would they were blanks, rather than fill'd with me! VIOLA Madam, I come to whet your gentle thoughts On his behalf. OLIVIA O, by your leave, I pray you, I bade you never speak again of him:

But, would you undertake another suit, I had rather hear you to solicit that Than music from the spheres. VIOLA Dear lady,-- OLIVIA Give me leave, beseech you. I did send, After the last enchantment you did here, A ring in chase of you: so did I abuse Myself, my servant and, I fear me, you:

Under your hard construction must I sit, To force that on you, in a shameful cunning, Which you knew none of yours: what might you think?

Have you not set mine honour at the stake And baited it with all the unmuzzled thoughts That tyrannous heart can think? To one of your receiving Enough is shown: a cypress, not a bosom, Hideth my heart. So, let me hear you speak. VIOLA I pity you. OLIVIA That's a degree to love. VIOLA No, not a grize; for 'tis a vulgar proof, That very oft we pity enemies. OLIVIA Why, then, methinks 'tis time to smile again.

O, world, how apt the poor are to be proud!

If one should be a prey, how much the better To fall before the lion than the wolf!

Clock strikes The clock upbraids me with the waste of time.

Be not afraid, good youth, I will not have you:

And yet, when wit and youth is come to harvest, Your were is alike to reap a proper man:

There lies your way, due west. VIOLA Then westward-ho! Grace and good disposition Attend your ladyship!

You'll nothing, madam, to my lord by me? OLIVIA Stay:

I prithee, tell me what thou thinkest of me. VIOLA That you do think you are not what you are. OLIVIA If I think so, I think the same of you. VIOLA Then think you right: I am not what I am. OLIVIA I would you were as I would have you be! VIOLA Would it be better, madam, than I am?

I wish it might, for now I am your fool. OLIVIA O, what a deal of scorn looks beautiful In the contempt and anger of his lip!

A murderous guilt shows not itself more soon Than love that would seem hid: love's night is noon.

Cesario, by the roses of the spring, By maidhood, honour, truth and every thing, I love thee so, that, maugre all thy pride, Nor wit nor reason can my passion hide.

Do not extort thy reasons from this clause, For that I woo, thou therefore hast no cause, But rather reason thus with reason fetter, Love sought is good, but given unsought better. VIOLA By innocence I swear, and by my youth I have one heart, one bosom and one truth, And that no woman has; nor never none Shall mistress be of it, save I alone.

And so adieu, good madam: never more Will I my master's tears to you deplore. OLIVIA Yet come again; for thou perhaps mayst move That heart, which now abhors, to like his love.