_Mal._ Gentlewoman, my lady calls. [_Exit_ MALVOLIO. [Illustration] _Enter_ MARIA. _Oli._ Give me my veil. [_Exit_ MARIA. What means his message to me? I have denied his access o'er and o'er: Then what means this? _Enter_ MARIA, _with a Veil_. Come, throw it o'er my face; We'll once more hear Orsino'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, exquisite, 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 cast away my speech; for, besides that it is excellently well penn'd, I have taken great pains to con it. _Oli._ Whence came you, sir? _Vio._ I can say 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. _Oli._ If I do not usurp myself, I am. _Vio._ Most certain, if you are she, you do usurp yourself; for what is yours to bestow, is not yours to reserve. _Oli._ I heard you were saucy at my gates; and 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 moon with me, to make one in so skipping a dialogue.--What are you? what would you? _Vio._ What I am, and what I would, are to your ears, divinity; to any other's, profanation. _Oli._ Give us the place alone: we will hear this divinity. [_Exit_ MARIA. Now, sir, what is your text? _Vio._ Most sweet lady,---- _Oli._ A comfortable doctrine, and much may be said of it. Where lies your text? _Vio._ In Orsino'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 heresy. Have you no more to say? _Vio._ Good madam, let me see your face. _Oli._ Have you any commission from your lord to negociate 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 as I, does this present. [_Unveiling._ _Vio._ 'Tis beauty truly blent, whose red and white Nature's own sweet and cunning hand laid on: Lady, you are the cruel'st she alive, If you will lead these graces to the grave, And leave the world no copy. _Oli._ O, sir, I will not be so hard-hearted. _Vio._ My lord and master loves you; O, such love Could be but recompensed, though you were crown'd The nonpareil of beauty! _Oli._ How does he love me?