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 wife is like 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 think’st 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.