Oli. I have said too much unto a heart of stone,
And laid mine honour too unchary out:
There's something in me, that reproves my fault;
But such a headstrong potent fault it is,
That it but mocks reproof.
Vio. With the same 'haviour that your passion bears,
Go on my master's griefs.
Oli. Here, wear this jewel for me, 'tis my picture;
Refuse it not, it hath no tongue to vex you:
And, I beseech you, come again to-morrow.
What shall you ask of me, that I'll deny;
That honour, saved, may upon asking give?
Vio. Nothing but this, your true love for my master.
Oli. How with mine honour may I give him that
Which I have given to you?
Vio. I will acquit you.
Oli. Well, come again to-morrow: Fare thee well!
[Exit Olivia.
Enter Sir Toby and Fabian.
Sir To. Gentleman, heaven save thee.