_Oli._ O, I have read it: it is heresy. Have you no more to say? _Vio._ Good madam, let me see your face. _Oli._ Have you any commission from your lord to negotiate 215 with my face? You are now out of your text: but we will draw the curtain and show you the picture. Look you, sir, such a one I was this present: is't not well done? [_Unveiling._ _Vio._ Excellently done, if God did all. _Oli._ 'Tis in grain, sir; 'twill endure wind and weather. 220 _Vio._ 'Tis beauty truly blent, whose red and white Nature's own sweet and cunning hand laid on: Lady, you are the cruell'st she alive, If you will lead these graces to the grave And leave the world no copy. 225 _Oli._ O, sir, I will not be so hard-hearted; I will give out divers schedules of my beauty: it shall be inventoried, and every particle and utensil labelled 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 230 you sent hither to praise me? _Vio._ 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: O, such love Could be but recompensed, though you were crown'd 235 The nonpareil of beauty! _Oli._ How does he love me? _Vio._ With adorations, fertile tears, With groans that thunder love, with sighs of fire. _Oli._ Your lord does know my mind; I cannot love him: Yet I suppose him virtuous, know him noble, 240 Of great estate, of fresh and stainless youth; In voices well divulged, free, learn'd and valiant; And in dimension and the shape of nature A gracious person: but yet I cannot love him; He might have took his answer long ago. 245 _Vio._ If I did love you in my master's flame, With such a suffering, such a deadly life, In your denial I would find no sense; I would not understand it. _Oli._ Why, what would you? _Vio._ Make me a willow cabin at your gate, 250 And call upon my soul within the house; Write loyal cantons of contemned love And sing them loud even in the dead of night; Halloo your name to the reverberate hills And make the babbling gossip of the air 255 Cry out 'Olivia!' O, you should not rest Between the elements of air and earth, But you should pity me! _Oli._ You might do much. What is your parentage? _Vio._ Above my fortunes, yet my state is well: 260 I am a gentleman.