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Twelfth Night

Act II, Scene 2

A street.
 
[Enter VIOLA, MALVOLIO following ]
 
MALVOLIO
Were not you even now with the Countess Olivia?
 
VIOLA
Even now, sir; on a moderate pace I have since arrived but hither.
 
MALVOLIO
She returns this ring to you, sir: you might have saved me my pains, to have taken it away yourself. She adds, moreover, that you should put your lord into a desperate assurance she will none of him: and one thing more, that you be never so hardy to come again in his affairs, unless it be to report your lord's taking of this. Receive it so.
 
VIOLA
She took the ring of me: I'll none of it.
 
MALVOLIO
Come, sir, you peevishly threw it to her; and her will is, it should be so returned: if it be worth stooping for, there it lies in your eye; if not, be it his that finds it.
 
[Exit]
 
VIOLA
          ,         ,          ,           ,           ,     ->
1     I left | no ring | with her:| what means | this la||dy?
       ,      2    ,        ,               ,     ,           ->
      For|tune forbid | my out|side have / not charmed || her:
              ,    ,      ,    2         ,         ,
      She / made good | view of me;| indeed | so much,
             ,         ,            ,          ,           ,
      That sure | methought | her eyes | had lost | her tongue,
           ,          ,           ,          ,      ,
      For she | did speak | in starts | distrac|tedly.
            ,          ,         ,        ,        ,       2->
      She loves | me sure;| the cun|ning of | her pas||sion
           ,        ,          ,        ,      ,
      Invites | me in | this churl|ish mes|senger.
        ,    2       T      T    T         ,          ,
      None of my | lord's ring? Why | he sent | her none.
      ,           ,        ,       ,        ,
      I am | the man,| if it | be so,| as 'tis,
        ,   ,                 ,        ,        ,
10    Poor la/dy, she | were bet|ter love | a dream.
           ,        ,          ,       ,       ,
      Disguise,| I see | thou art | a wic|kedness,
            ,         ,        ,   ,          ,
      Wherein | the preg|nant en|emy | does much.
           ,     ,        ,         ,        ,
      How ea|sy is | it, for | the pro|per false
          ,        ,        ,         ,            ,
      In wom|en's wax|en hearts | to set | their forms:
         ,       ,       ,         ,          ,
      Alas,| O frail|ty is | the cause,| not we,
            ,        ,         ,         ,        ,
      For such | as we | are made,| if such | we be:
       ,      2         ,          ,         ,           ,
      How will this | fadge? My | master | loves her | dearly,
       .  T    T   T          ,         ,        ,
      And I (poor mon|ster) fond | as much | on him;
           ,       ,         ,          ,        ,
      And she |(mista|ken) seems | to dote | on me.
             ,        ,         ,       ,       ,
20    What will | become | of this?| As I | am man,
           ,         ,    2     ,        ,          ,
      My state | is des|perate for | my mas|ter's love;
         ,       ,       ,       ,        ,
      As I | am wom|an (now | alas | the day)
              ,          ,             ,      ,  2     ,
      What thrift|less sighs | shall poor | Oli|via breathe?
          ,      ,            ,        ,        ,
      O time,| thou must | untan|gle this,| not I,
          ,         ,        ,         ,     2   ,
      It is | too hard | a knot | for me | to untie.
 
[Exeunt]

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