VIOLA.
Say I do speak with her, my lord, what then?
DUKE.
O, then unfold the passion of my love,
Surprise her with discourse of my dear faith!
It shall become thee well to act my woes;
She will attend it better in thy youth
Than in a nuncio's of more grave aspect.
VIOLA.
I think not so, my lord.
DUKE.
Dear lad, believe it;
For they shall yet belie thy happy years,
That say thou art a man: Diana's lip
Is not more smooth and rubious; thy small pipe
Is as the maiden's organ, shrill and sound,
And all is semblative a woman's part.
I know thy constellation is right apt
For this affair. Some four or five attend him;
All, if you will; for I myself am best
When least in company. Prosper well in this,
And thou shalt live as freely as thy lord,
To call his fortunes thine.
VIOLA.
I'll do my best
To woo your lady,— [Aside] yet, a barful strife!
Whoe'er I woo, myself would be his wife.
[Exeunt.]
SCENE V.
OLIVIA'S house.
[Enter MARIA and CLOWN.]
MARIA. Nay, either tell me where thou hast been, or I will not open my lips so wide as a bristle may enter in way of thy excuse. My lady will hang thee for thy absence.