To. Wherefore are these things hid? Wherefore haue these gifts a Curtaine before 'em? Are they like to take dust, like mistris Mals picture? Why dost thou not goe to Church in a Galliard, and come home in a Carranto? My verie walke should be a Iigge: I would not so much as make water but in a Sinke-a-pace: What dooest thou meane? Is it a world to hide vertues in? I did thinke by the excellent constitution of thy legge, it was form'd vnder the starre of a Galliard And. I, 'tis strong, and it does indifferent well in a dam'd colour'd stocke. Shall we sit about some Reuels? To. What shall we do else: were we not borne vnder Taurus? And. Taurus? That sides and heart To. No sir, it is leggs and thighes: let me see thee caper. Ha, higher: ha, ha, excellent. Exeunt. Scena Quarta. Enter Valentine, and Viola in mans attire. Val. If the Duke continue these fauours towards you Cesario, you are like to be much aduanc'd, he hath known you but three dayes, and already you are no stranger Vio. You either feare his humour, or my negligence, that you call in question the continuance of his loue. Is he inconstant sir, in his fauours Val. No beleeue me. Enter Duke, Curio, and Attendants. Vio. I thanke you: heere comes the Count Duke. Who saw Cesario hoa? Vio. On your attendance my Lord heere Du. Stand you a-while aloofe. Cesario, Thou knowst no lesse, but all: I haue vnclasp'd To thee the booke euen of my secret soule. Therefore good youth, addresse thy gate vnto her, Be not deni'de accesse, stand at her doores, And tell them, there thy fixed foot shall grow Till thou haue audience Vio. Sure my Noble Lord, If she be so abandon'd to her sorrow As it is spoke, she neuer will admit me Du. Be clamorous, and leape all ciuill bounds, Rather then make vnprofited returne, Vio. Say I do speake with her (my Lord) what then? Du. O then, vnfold the passion of my loue, Surprize her with discourse of my deere faith; It shall become thee well to act my woes: She will attend it better in thy youth, Then in a Nuntio's of more graue aspect Vio. I thinke not so, my Lord Du. Deere Lad, beleeue it; For they shall yet belye thy happy yeeres, That say thou art a man: Dianas lip Is not more smooth, and rubious: thy small pipe Is as the maidens organ, shrill, and sound, And all is semblatiue a womans part. I know thy constellation is right apt For this affayre: some foure or fiue attend him, All if you will: for I my selfe am best When least in companie: prosper well in this, And thou shalt liue as freely as thy Lord, To call his fortunes thine Vio. Ile do my best To woe your Lady: yet a barrefull strife, Who ere I woe, my selfe would be his wife. Exeunt. Scena Quinta. Enter Maria, and Clowne. Ma. Nay, either tell me where thou hast bin, or I will not open my lippes so wide as a brissle may enter, in way of thy excuse: my Lady will hang thee for thy absence