Datasets:
ariondas
/
full_text_dataset

Dataset card Data Studio Files
xet
Community
2
text
stringlengths
0
1.91k
and man. He is very well-favoured, and he speaks very shrewishly;
one would think his mother's milk were scarce out of him.
OLIVIA.
Let him approach. Call in my gentlewoman.
MALVOLIO.
Gentlewoman, my lady calls.
[Exit.]
[Re-enter MARIA.]
OLIVIA.
Give me my veil; come, throw it o'er my face;
We'll once more hear Orsino's embassy.
[Enter VIOLA.]
VIOLA.
The honourable lady of the house, which is she?
OLIVIA.
Speak to me; I shall answer for her. Your will?
VIOLA.
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 loath to cast away my speech; for, besides that it is
excellently well penned, I have taken great pains to con it. Good
beauties, let me sustain no scorn; I am very comptible, even to
the least sinister usage.
OLIVIA.
Whence came you, sir?
VIOLA.
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, that I may proceed in
my speech.
OLIVIA.
Are you a comedian?
VIOLA.
No, my profound heart: and yet, by the very fangs of malice
I swear, I am not that I play. Are you the lady of the house?
OLIVIA.
If I do not usurp myself, I am.
VIOLA.
Most certain, if you are she, you do usurp yourself; for
what is yours to bestow is not yours to reserve. But this is from
my commission: I will on with my speech in your praise, and then
show you the heart of my message.
OLIVIA.
Come to what is important in't: I forgive you the praise.
VIOLA.
Alas, I took great pains to study it, and 'tis poetical.
OLIVIA.
It is the more like to be feigned; I pray you keep it in. I
heard you were saucy at my gates; and allowed 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.
MARIA.
Will you hoist sail, sir? here lies your way.
VIOLA.
No, good swabber; I am to hull here a little longer.--
Some mollification for your giant, sweet lady.
OLIVIA.
Tell me your mind.
VIOLA.
I am a messenger.
OLIVIA.
Sure, you have some hideous matter to deliver, when the
courtesy of it is so fearful. Speak your office.
VIOLA.
It alone concerns your ear. I bring no overture of war, no
taxation of homage; I hold the olive in my hand: my words are as
full of peace as matter.
OLIVIA.
Yet you began rudely. What are you? what would you?
VIOLA.
The rudeness that hath appeared in me have I learned from my
entertainment. What I am and what I would are as secret as
maidenhead: to your ears, divinity; to any other's, profanation.