VIOLA

Viola’s speech and analysis.

Viola | Act 2, Scene 2 | 16-40

I left no ring with her: what means this lady?

Arden 3 | 2008

Source
Arden 3 | Elam, Keir. London: Bloomsbury Publishing, 2008.

VIOLA
I left no ring with her: what means this lady?
Fortune forbid my outside have not charm’d her.
She made good view of me, indeed so much
That sure methought her eyes had lost her tongue,
For she did speak in starts, distractedly.
She loves me sure. The cunning of her passion
Invites me in this churlish messenger.
None of my lord’s ring? Why, he sent her none.
I am the man. If it be so, as ’tis,
Poor lady, she were better love a dream.
Disguise, I see thou art a wickedness,
Wherein the pregnant enemy does much.
How easy is it for the proper false
In women’s waxen hearts to set their forms.
Alas, our frailty is the cause, not we:
For such as we are made of, such we be.
How will this fadge? My master loves her dearly,
And I, poor monster, fond as much on him,
And she, mistaken, seems to dote on me.
What will become of this? As I am man,
My state is desperate for my master’s love;
As I am woman, now alas the day,
What thriftless sighs shall poor Olivia breathe?
O time, thou must untangle this, not I.
It is too hard a knot for me t’untie.

Exit

Thought Counts
Arden 3 | 2008

Short: 12
Medium: 6
Long: 0
Total: 18

End-stopped: 13
Mid-line: 5

Periods: 13
Exclamations: 0
Questions: 5
Unfinished: 0

Objective

Viola needs the audience to:

Help her figure out what’s going on and then:

Help her figure out what to do about the situation.

Source
Arden 3 | Elam, Keir. London: Bloomsbury Publishing, 2008.

VIOLA
I left no ring with her: what means this lady?
Fortune forbid my outside have not charm’d her.
She made good view of me, indeed so much
That sure methought her eyes had lost her tongue,
For she did speak in starts, distractedly.
She loves me sure. The cunning of her passion
Invites me in this churlish messenger.
None of my lord’s ring? Why, he sent her none.
I am the man. If it be so, as ’tis,
Poor lady, she were better love a dream.
Disguise, I see thou art a wickedness,
Wherein the pregnant enemy does much.
How easy is it for the proper false
In women’s waxen hearts to set their forms.
Alas, our frailty is the cause, not we:
For such as we are made of, such we be.
How will this fadge? My master loves her dearly,
And I, poor monster, fond as much on him,
And she, mistaken, seems to dote on me.
What will become of this? As I am man,
My state is desperate for my master’s love;
As I am woman, now alas the day,
What thriftless sighs shall poor Olivia breathe?
O time, thou must untangle this, not I.
It is too hard a knot for me t’untie.

Exit

Given Circumstances
Arden 3 | 2008

Short: 7
Medium: 8
Long: 0
Total: 15

End-stopped: 12
Mid-line: 3

Periods: 7
Exclamations: 4
Questions: 4
Unfinished: 0

Objective

Viola needs the audience to:

Help her figure out what’s going on and then:

Help her figure out what to do about the situation.

Thoughts
Arden 3 | 2008

VIOLA
1. I left no ring with her: what means this lady?
2. Fortune forbid my outside have not charm’d her.
3. She made good view of me, indeed so much
That sure methought her eyes had lost her tongue,
For she did speak in starts, distractedly.
4. She loves me sure. 5. The cunning of her passion
Invites me in this churlish messenger.
6. None of my lord’s ring? 7. Why, he sent her none.
8. I am the man. 9. If it be so, as ’tis,
Poor lady, she were better love a dream.
10. Disguise, I see thou art a wickedness,
Wherein the pregnant enemy does much.
11. How easy is it for the proper false
In women’s waxen hearts to set their forms.
12. Alas, our frailty is the cause, not we:
For such as we are made of, such we be.
13. How will this fadge? 14. My master loves her dearly,
And I, poor monster, fond as much on him,
And she, mistaken, seems to dote on me.
15. What will become of this? 16. As I am man,
My state is desperate for my master’s love;
As I am woman, now alas the day,
What thriftless sighs shall poor Olivia breathe?
17. O time, thou must untangle this, not I.
18. It is too hard a knot for me t’untie.

Exit

Line Analysis
Arden 3 | 2008

VIOLA
I left no ring with her: what means this lady?          11w
Fortune forbid my outside have not charm’d her.   11w (Fortune)
She made good view of me, indeed, so much            10R
That sure methought her eyes had lost her tongue,    10R
For she did speak in starts distractedly.                      10R
She loves me sure. The cunning of her passion         11w
Invites me in this churlish messenger.                          10R
None of my lord’s ring? Why, he sent her none.         10 (none)
I am the man. If it be so, as ’tis,                            10R10 (I)
Poor lady, she were better love a dream.              10R
Disguise, I see thou art a wickedness,                   10R
Wherein the pregnant enemy does much.            10R
How easy is it for the proper false                          10R
In women’s waxen hearts to set their forms.         10R
Alas, our frailty is the cause, not we:                     10R
For such as we are made of, such we be.             10R
How will this fadge? My master loves her dearly,  11w (how)
And I, poor monster, fond as much on him,           10R
And she, mistaken, seems to dote on me.             10R
What will become of this? As I am man,                10R10  (what)
My state is desperate for my master’s love;          10R 11   (desp’rate)
As I am woman, now alas the day,                          10R
What thriftless sighs shall poor Olivia breathe?      10R 11  (Oliv’a)
O time, thou must untangle this, not I.                    10 10R  (thou)
It is too hard a knot for me t’untie.                         10R

Exit

Phrasing and Tempo
Arden 3 | 2008

VIOLA
I left no ring with her: what means this lady?
Fortune forbid my outside have not charm’d her.
She made good view of me, indeed so much
That sure methought her eyes had lost her tongue,
For she did speak in starts, distractedly.
She loves me sure. The cunning of her passion
Invites me in this churlish messenger.
None of my lord’s ring? Why, he sent her none.
I am the man. If it be so, as ’tis,
Poor lady, she were better love a dream.
Disguise, I see thou art a wickedness,
Wherein the pregnant enemy does much.
How easy is it for the proper false
In women’s waxen hearts to set their forms.
Alas, our frailty is the cause, not we:
For such as we are made of, such we be.
How will this fadge? My master loves her dearly,
And I, poor monster, fond as much on him,
And she, mistaken, seems to dote on me.
What will become of this? As I am man,
My state is desperate for my master’s love;
As I am woman, now alas the day,
What thriftless sighs shall poor Olivia breathe?
O time, thou must untangle this, not I.
It is too hard a knot for me t’untie.

Exit

VIOLA
I left no ring with her: <cwhat means this lady? pause
Fortune forbid my outside have not charm’d her!  pause  carefully
She made good view of me; <c indeed, so much    slowly |
That sure <c methought her eyes had lost her tongue,
For she did speak in starts <c distractedly.   pause
She loves me, <c sure; <c the cunning of her passion   slowly |
Invites me in this churlish messenger.    pause
None of my lord’s ring! <c why, <c he sent her none.   pause   slowly
I am the man! <c, quicklyIf it be so, <c as ’tis,   slowly
Poor lady, <c she were better love a dream.   pause
Disguise, <c> I see thou art a wickedness,
Wherein the pregnant enemy does much.   pause
How easy is it for the proper false
In women’s waxen hearts to set their forms!    pause
Alas, <c our frailty is the cause, <c not we:
For such as we are made of, <c such we be.   pause   slowly
How will this fadge? <c, quicklyMy master loves her dearly;  carefully
And I, <c> poor monster, <c fond as much on him;   | slowly
And she, <c mistaken, <c seems to dote on me.   pause
What will become of this? <c As I am man,  | slowly  carefully
My state is desperate for my master’s love:
As I am woman <c> (now <c alas the day!)
What thriftless sighs shall poor Olivia breathe?   pause  carefully
O time! <c> thou must untangle this, <c> not I:
It is too hard a knot for me t’untie!    slowly?

Exit

Alliteration
Arden 3 | 2008

VIOLA
I left no ring with her: what means this lady?
Fortune forbid my outside have not charm’d her.
She made good view of me, indeed so much
That sure methought her eyes had lost her tongue,
For she did speak in starts, distractedly.
She loves me sure. The cunning of her passion
Invites me in this churlish messenger.
None of my lord’s ring? Why, he sent her none.
I am the man. If it be so, as ’tis,
Poor lady, she were better love a dream.
Disguise, I see thou art a wickedness,
Wherein the pregnant enemy does much.
How easy is it for the proper false
In women’s waxen hearts to set their forms.
Alas, our frailty is the cause, not we:
For such as we are made of, such we be.
How will this fadge? My master loves her dearly,
And I, poor monster, fond as much on him,
And she, mistaken, seems to dote on me.
What will become of this? As I am man,
My state is desperate for my master’s love;
As I am woman, now alas the day,
What thriftless sighs shall poor Olivia breathe?
O time, thou must untangle this, not I.
It is too hard a knot for me t’untie.

Exit

VIOLA
I left no ring with her: what means this lady?
Fortune forbid my outside have not charm’d her!
She made good view of me; indeed, so much
That sure methought her eyes had lost her tongue,
For she did speak in starts distractedly.
She loves me, sure; the cunning of her passion
Invites me in this churlish messenger.
None of my lord’s ring! why, he sent her none.
I am the man! If it be so, as ’tis,
Poor lady, she were better love a dream.
Disguise, I see thou art a wickedness,
Wherein the pregnant enemy does much.
How easy is it for the proper false
In women’s waxen hearts to set their forms!
Alas, our frailty is the cause, not we:
For such as we are made of, such we be.
How will this fadge? My master loves her dearly;
And I, poor monster, fond as much on him;
And she, mistaken, seems to dote on me.
What will become of this? As I am man,
My state is desperate for my master’s love:
As I am woman (now alas the day!)
What thriftless sighs shall poor Olivia breathe?
O time! thou must untangle this, not I:
It is too hard a knot for me t’untie!

Exit

Assonance and Rhyme
Oxford | 2010

VIOLA
I left no ring with her: what means this lady?
Fortune forbid my outside have not charm’d her.
She made good view of me, indeed so much
That sure methought her eyes had lost her tongue,
For she did speak in starts, distractedly.
She loves me sure. The cunning of her passion
Invites me in this churlish messenger.
None of my lord’s ring? Why, he sent her none.
I am the man. If it be so, as ’tis,
Poor lady, she were better love a dream.
Disguise, I see thou art a wickedness,
Wherein the pregnant enemy does much.
How easy is it for the proper false
In women’s waxen hearts to set their forms.
Alas, our frailty is the cause, not we:
For such as we are made of, such we be.
How will this fadge? My master loves her dearly,
And I, poor monster, fond as much on him,
And she, mistaken, seems to dote on me.
What will become of this? As I am man,
My state is desperate for my master’s love;
As I am woman, now alas the day,
What thriftless sighs shall poor Olivia breathe?
O time, thou must untangle this, not I.
It is too hard a knot for me t’untie.

Exit

VIOLA
I left no ring with her: <cwhat means this lady? pause
Fortune forbid my outside have not charm’d her!  pause  carefully
She made good view of me; <c indeed, so much    slowly |
That sure <c methought her eyes had lost her tongue,
For she did speak in starts <c distractedly.   pause
She loves me, <c sure; <c the cunning of her passion   slowly |
Invites me in this churlish messenger.    pause
None of my lord’s ring! <c why, <c he sent her none.   pause   slowly
I am the man! <c, quicklyIf it be so, <c as ’tis,   slowly
Poor lady, <c she were better love a dream.   pause
Disguise, <c> I see thou art a wickedness,
Wherein the pregnant enemy does much.   pause
How easy is it for the proper false
In women’s waxen hearts to set their forms!    pause
Alas, <c our frailty is the cause, <c not we:
For such as we are made of, <c such we be.   pause   slowly
How will this fadge? <c, quicklyMy master loves her dearly;  carefully
And I, <c> poor monster, <c fond as much on him;   | slowly
And she, <c mistaken, <c seems to dote on me.   pause
What will become of this? <c As I am man,  | slowly  carefully
My state is desperate for my master’s love:
As I am woman <c> (now <c alas the day!)
What thriftless sighs shall poor Olivia breathe?   pause  carefully
O time! <c> thou must untangle this, <c> not I:
It is too hard a knot for me t’untie!    slowly?

Exit

Consonance
Oxford | 2010

VIOLA
I left no ring with her: what means this lady?
Fortune forbid my outside have not charm’d her.
She made good view of me, indeed so much
That sure methought her eyes had lost her tongue,
For she did speak in starts, distractedly.
She loves me sure. The cunning of her passion
Invites me in this churlish messenger.
None of my lord’s ring? Why, he sent her none.
I am the man. If it be so, as ’tis,
Poor lady, she were better love a dream.
Disguise, I see thou art a wickedness,
Wherein the pregnant enemy does much.
How easy is it for the proper false
In women’s waxen hearts to set their forms.
Alas, our frailty is the cause, not we:
For such as we are made of, such we be.
How will this fadge? My master loves her dearly,
And I, poor monster, fond as much on him,
And she, mistaken, seems to dote on me.
What will become of this? As I am man,
My state is desperate for my master’s love;
As I am woman, now alas the day,
What thriftless sighs shall poor Olivia breathe?
O time, thou must untangle this, not I.
It is too hard a knot for me t’untie.

Exit

VIOLA
I left no ring with her: what means this lady?
Fortune forbid my outside have not charm’d her!
She made good view of me; indeed, so much
That sure methought her eyes had lost her tongue,
For she did speak in starts distractedly.
She loves me, sure; the cunning of her passion
Invites me in this churlish messenger.
None of my lord’s ring! why, he sent her none.
I am the man! If it be so, as ’tis,
Poor lady, she were better love a dream.
Disguise, I see thou art a wickedness,
Wherein the pregnant enemy does much.
How easy is it for the proper false
In women’s waxen hearts to set their forms!
Alas, our frailty is the cause, not we:
For such as we are made of, such we be.
How will this fadge? My master loves her dearly;
And I, poor monster, fond as much on him;
And she, mistaken, seems to dote on me.
What will become of this? As I am man,
My state is desperate for my master’s love:
As I am woman (now alas the day!)
What thriftless sighs shall poor Olivia breathe?
O time! thou must untangle this, not I:
It is too hard a knot for me t’untie!

Exit

Rhetoric
Oxford | 2010

VIOLA
I left no ring with her: what means this lady?
Fortune forbid my outside have not charm’d her!      (personification)
She made good view of me; indeed, so much       (imagery)
That sure methought her eyes had lost her tongue,         (imagery)
For she did speak in starts distractedly.             (imagery)
She loves me, sure; the cunning of her passion       (personification)
Invites me in this churlish messenger.                    (imagery)
None of my lord’s ring! why, he sent her none.
I am the man! If it be so, as ’tis,                   (parenthesis)
Poor lady, she were better love a dream.
Disguise, I see thou art a wickedness,
Wherein the pregnant enemy does much.       (imagery)
How easy is it for the proper false              (paradox, contradiction)
In women’s waxen hearts to set their forms!      (imagery)
Alas, our frailty is the cause, not we:
For such as we are made of, such we be.   (repetition)
How will this fadge? My master loves her dearly;  (rhetorical question, chain of antithesis)
And I, poor monster, fond as much on him;             (metaphor, parenthesis)
And she, mistaken, seems to dote on me.     (parenthesis)
What will become of this? As I am man,         (antithesis)
My state is desperate for my master’s love:
As I am woman (now alas the day!)          (parenthesis)
What thriftless sighs shall poor Olivia breathe?   (imagery, rhetorical question)
O time! thou must untangle this, not I:            (personification, imagery, metaphor)
It is too hard a knot for me to untie!

Exit

Before and After
Oxford | 2010

SCENE II. 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
I left no ring with her: what means this lady?
Fortune forbid my outside have not charm’d her!
She made good view of me; indeed, so much
That sure methought her eyes had lost her tongue,
For she did speak in starts distractedly.
She loves me, sure; the cunning of her passion
Invites me in this churlish messenger.
None of my lord’s ring! why, he sent her none.
I am the man! If it be so, as ’tis,
Poor lady, she were better love a dream.
Disguise, I see thou art a wickedness,
Wherein the pregnant enemy does much.
How easy is it for the proper false
In women’s waxen hearts to set their forms!
Alas, our frailty is the cause, not we:
For such as we are made of, such we be.
How will this fadge? My master loves her dearly;
And I, poor monster, fond as much on him;
And she, mistaken, seems to dote on me.
What will become of this? As I am man,
My state is desperate for my master’s love:
As I am woman (now alas the day!)
What thriftless sighs shall poor Olivia breathe?
O time! thou must untangle this, not I:
It is too hard a knot for me to untie!

Exit

Definitions
Oxford | 2010

VIOLA
I left no ring with her: what means this lady?
Fortune forbid my outside have not charm’d her!
She made good view of me; indeed, so much
That sure methought her eyes had lost her tongue,
For she did speak in starts distractedly.
She loves me, sure; the cunning of her passion
Invites me in this churlish messenger.
None of my lord’s ring! why, he sent her none.
I am the man! If it be so, as ’tis,
Poor lady, she were better love a dream.
Disguise, I see thou art a wickedness,
Wherein the pregnant enemy does much.
How easy is it for the proper false
In women’s waxen hearts to set their forms!
Alas, our frailty is the cause, not we:
For such as we are made of, such we be.
How will this fadge? My master loves her dearly;
And I, poor monster, fond as much on him;
And she, mistaken, seems to dote on me.
What will become of this? As I am man,
My state is desperate for my master’s love:
As I am woman (now alas the day!)
What thriftless sighs shall poor Olivia breathe?
O time! thou must untangle this, not I:
It is too hard a knot for me to untie!

Exit

Translation
Oxford | 2010

VIOLA
I left no ring with her: what means this lady?
Fortune forbid my outside have not charm’d her!
She made good view of me; indeed, so much
That sure methought her eyes had lost her tongue,
For she did speak in starts distractedly.
She loves me, sure; the cunning of her passion
Invites me in this churlish messenger.
None of my lord’s ring! why, he sent her none.
I am the man! If it be so, as ’tis,
Poor lady, she were better love a dream.
Disguise, I see thou art a wickedness,
Wherein the pregnant enemy does much.
How easy is it for the proper false
In women’s waxen hearts to set their forms!
Alas, our frailty is the cause, not we:
For such as we are made of, such we be.
How will this fadge? My master loves her dearly;
And I, poor monster, fond as much on him;
And she, mistaken, seems to dote on me.
What will become of this? As I am man,
My state is desperate for my master’s love:
As I am woman (now alas the day!)
What thriftless sighs shall poor Olivia breathe?
O time! thou must untangle this, not I:
It is too hard a knot for me to untie!

Exit

Viola | Act 2, Scene 2 | 16-40

I left no ring with her: what means this lady?

Oxford School | 2010

Source
Oxford | Roma Gill. London: Oxford University Press, 2010

VIOLA
I left no ring with her: what means this lady?
Fortune forbid my outside have not charm’d her!
She made good view of me; indeed, so much
That sure methought her eyes had lost her tongue,
For she did speak in starts distractedly.
She loves me, sure; the cunning of her passion
Invites me in this churlish messenger.
None of my lord’s ring! why, he sent her none.
I am the man! If it be so, as ’tis,
Poor lady, she were better love a dream.
Disguise, I see thou art a wickedness,
Wherein the pregnant enemy does much.
How easy is it for the proper false
In women’s waxen hearts to set their forms!
Alas, our frailty is the cause, not we:
For such as we are made of, such we be.
How will this fadge? My master loves her dearly;
And I, poor monster, fond as much on him;
And she, mistaken, seems to dote on me.
What will become of this? As I am man,
My state is desperate for my master’s love:
As I am woman (now alas the day!)
What thriftless sighs shall poor Olivia breathe?
O time! thou must untangle this, not I:
It is too hard a knot for me t’untie!

Exit

Thought Counts
Oxford | 2010

Short: 7
Medium: 8
Long: 0
Total: 15

End-stopped: 12
Mid-line: 3

Periods: 7
Exclamations: 4
Questions: 4
Unfinished: 0

Objective

Viola needs the audience to:

Help her figure out what’s going on and then:

Help her figure out what to do about the situation.

Thoughts
Oxford | 2010

VIOLA
1. I left no ring with her: what means this lady?
2. Fortune forbid my outside have not charm’d her!
3. She made good view of me; indeed, so much
That sure methought her eyes had lost her tongue,
For she did speak in starts distractedly.
4. She loves me, sure; the cunning of her passion
Invites me in this churlish messenger.
5. None of my lord’s ring! why, he sent her none.
6. I am the man! 7. If it be so, as ’tis,
Poor lady, she were better love a dream.
8. Disguise, I see thou art a wickedness,
Wherein the pregnant enemy does much.
9. How easy is it for the proper false
In women’s waxen hearts to set their forms!
10. Alas, our frailty is the cause, not we:
For such as we are made of, such we be.
11. How will this fadge? 12. My master loves her dearly;
And I, poor monster, fond as much on him;
And she, mistaken, seems to dote on me.
13. What will become of this? 14. As I am man,
My state is desperate for my master’s love:
As I am woman (now alas the day!)
What thriftless sighs shall poor Olivia breathe?
15. O time! thou must untangle this, not I:
It is too hard a knot for me t’untie!

Exit

Line Analysis
Oxford | 2010

VIOLA
I left no ring with her: what means this lady?          11w
Fortune forbid my outside have not charm’d her!    11w
She made good view of me; indeed, so much            10R
That sure methought her eyes had lost her tongue,    10R
For she did speak in starts distractedly.                      10R
She loves me, sure; the cunning of her passion         11w
Invites me in this churlish messenger.                          10R
None of my lord’s ring! why, he sent her none.         10
I am the man! If it be so, as ’tis,                        10R10
Poor lady, she were better love a dream.             10R
Disguise, I see thou art a wickedness,             10R
Wherein the pregnant enemy does much.         10R
How easy is it for the proper false                       10R
In women’s waxen hearts to set their forms!        10R
Alas, our frailty is the cause, not we:                10R
For such as we are made of, such we be.          10R
How will this fadge? My master loves her dearly;  11w
And I, poor monster, fond as much on him;       10R
And she, mistaken, seems to dote on me.         10R
What will become of this? As I am man,           10R10
My state is desperate for my master’s love:     10R 11
As I am woman (now alas the day!)                   10R
What thriftless sighs shall poor Olivia breathe?      10R 11
O time! thou must untangle this, not I:                    10 10R
It is too hard a knot for me t’untie!                        10R

Exit

Phrasing and Tempo
Oxford | 2010

VIOLA
I left no ring with her: <cwhat means this lady? pause
Fortune forbid my outside have not charm’d her!  pause  carefully
She made good view of me; <c indeed, so much    slowly |
That sure <c methought her eyes had lost her tongue,
For she did speak in starts <c distractedly.   pause
She loves me, <c sure; <c the cunning of her passion   slowly |
Invites me in this churlish messenger.    pause
None of my lord’s ring! <c why, <c he sent her none.   pause   slowly
I am the man! <c, quicklyIf it be so, <c as ’tis,   slowly
Poor lady, <c she were better love a dream.   pause
Disguise, <c> I see thou art a wickedness,
Wherein the pregnant enemy does much.   pause
How easy is it for the proper false
In women’s waxen hearts to set their forms!    pause
Alas, <c our frailty is the cause, <c not we:
For such as we are made of, <c such we be.   pause   slowly
How will this fadge? <c, quicklyMy master loves her dearly;  carefully
And I, <c> poor monster, <c fond as much on him;   | slowly
And she, <c mistaken, <c seems to dote on me.   pause
What will become of this? <c As I am man,  | slowly  carefully
My state is desperate for my master’s love:
As I am woman <c> (now <c alas the day!)
What thriftless sighs shall poor Olivia breathe?   pause  carefully
O time! <c> thou must untangle this, <c> not I:
It is too hard a knot for me t’untie!    slowly?

Exit

Sounds
Oxford | 2010

VIOLA
I left no ring with her: what means this lady?
Fortune forbid my outside have not charm’d her!
She made good view of me; indeed, so much
That sure methought her eyes had lost her tongue,
For she did speak in starts distractedly.
She loves me, sure; the cunning of her passion
Invites me in this churlish messenger.
None of my lord’s ring! why, he sent her none.
I am the man! If it be so, as ’tis,
Poor lady, she were better love a dream.
Disguise, I see thou art a wickedness,
Wherein the pregnant enemy does much.
How easy is it for the proper false
In women’s waxen hearts to set their forms!
Alas, our frailty is the cause, not we:
For such as we are made of, such we be.
How will this fadge? My master loves her dearly;
And I, poor monster, fond as much on him;
And she, mistaken, seems to dote on me.
What will become of this? As I am man,
My state is desperate for my master’s love:
As I am woman (now alas the day!)
What thriftless sighs shall poor Olivia breathe?
O time! thou must untangle this, not I:
It is too hard a knot for me t’untie!

Exit

Rhetoric
Oxford | 2010

VIOLA
I left no ring with her: what means this lady?
Fortune forbid my outside have not charm’d her!      (personification)
She made good view of me; indeed, so much       (imagery)
That sure methought her eyes had lost her tongue,         (imagery)
For she did speak in starts distractedly.             (imagery)
She loves me, sure; the cunning of her passion       (personification)
Invites me in this churlish messenger.                    (imagery)
None of my lord’s ring! why, he sent her none.
I am the man! If it be so, as ’tis,                   (parenthesis)
Poor lady, she were better love a dream.
Disguise, I see thou art a wickedness,
Wherein the pregnant enemy does much.       (imagery)
How easy is it for the proper false              (paradox, contradiction)
In women’s waxen hearts to set their forms!      (imagery)
Alas, our frailty is the cause, not we:
For such as we are made of, such we be.   (repetition)
How will this fadge? My master loves her dearly;  (rhetorical question, chain of antithesis)
And I, poor monster, fond as much on him;             (metaphor, parenthesis)
And she, mistaken, seems to dote on me.     (parenthesis)
What will become of this? As I am man,         (antithesis)
My state is desperate for my master’s love:
As I am woman (now alas the day!)          (parenthesis)
What thriftless sighs shall poor Olivia breathe?   (imagery, rhetorical question)
O time! thou must untangle this, not I:            (personification, imagery, metaphor)
It is too hard a knot for me to untie!

Exit

Before and After
Oxford | 2010

SCENE II. 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
I left no ring with her: what means this lady?
Fortune forbid my outside have not charm’d her!
She made good view of me; indeed, so much
That sure methought her eyes had lost her tongue,
For she did speak in starts distractedly.
She loves me, sure; the cunning of her passion
Invites me in this churlish messenger.
None of my lord’s ring! why, he sent her none.
I am the man! If it be so, as ’tis,
Poor lady, she were better love a dream.
Disguise, I see thou art a wickedness,
Wherein the pregnant enemy does much.
How easy is it for the proper false
In women’s waxen hearts to set their forms!
Alas, our frailty is the cause, not we:
For such as we are made of, such we be.
How will this fadge? My master loves her dearly;
And I, poor monster, fond as much on him;
And she, mistaken, seems to dote on me.
What will become of this? As I am man,
My state is desperate for my master’s love:
As I am woman (now alas the day!)
What thriftless sighs shall poor Olivia breathe?
O time! thou must untangle this, not I:
It is too hard a knot for me to untie!

Exit

Definitions
Oxford | 2010

VIOLA
I left no ring with her: what means this lady?
Fortune forbid my outside have not charm’d her!
She made good view of me; indeed, so much
That sure methought her eyes had lost her tongue,
For she did speak in starts distractedly.
She loves me, sure; the cunning of her passion
Invites me in this churlish messenger.
None of my lord’s ring! why, he sent her none.
I am the man! If it be so, as ’tis,
Poor lady, she were better love a dream.
Disguise, I see thou art a wickedness,
Wherein the pregnant enemy does much.
How easy is it for the proper false
In women’s waxen hearts to set their forms!
Alas, our frailty is the cause, not we:
For such as we are made of, such we be.
How will this fadge? My master loves her dearly;
And I, poor monster, fond as much on him;
And she, mistaken, seems to dote on me.
What will become of this? As I am man,
My state is desperate for my master’s love:
As I am woman (now alas the day!)
What thriftless sighs shall poor Olivia breathe?
O time! thou must untangle this, not I:
It is too hard a knot for me to untie!

Exit

Translation
Oxford | 2010

VIOLA
I left no ring with her: what means this lady?
Fortune forbid my outside have not charm’d her!
She made good view of me; indeed, so much
That sure methought her eyes had lost her tongue,
For she did speak in starts distractedly.
She loves me, sure; the cunning of her passion
Invites me in this churlish messenger.
None of my lord’s ring! why, he sent her none.
I am the man! If it be so, as ’tis,
Poor lady, she were better love a dream.
Disguise, I see thou art a wickedness,
Wherein the pregnant enemy does much.
How easy is it for the proper false
In women’s waxen hearts to set their forms!
Alas, our frailty is the cause, not we:
For such as we are made of, such we be.
How will this fadge? My master loves her dearly;
And I, poor monster, fond as much on him;
And she, mistaken, seems to dote on me.
What will become of this? As I am man,
My state is desperate for my master’s love:
As I am woman (now alas the day!)
What thriftless sighs shall poor Olivia breathe?
O time! thou must untangle this, not I:
It is too hard a knot for me to untie!

Exit

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