s well. I am a gentleman."
Olivia now reluctantly dismissed Viola, saying, "Go to your master,
and tell him, I cannot love him. Let him send no more, unless
perchance you come again to tell me how he takes it." And Viola
departed, bidding the lady farewel by the name of Fair Cruelty. When
she was gone, Olivia repeated the words, _Above my fortunes, yet my
state is well. I am a gentleman_. And she said aloud, "I will be sworn
he is; his tongue, his face, his limbs, action, and spirit, plainly
shew he is a gentleman." And then she wished Cesario was the duke; and
perceiving the fast hold he had taken on her affections, she blamed
herself for her sudden love: but the gentle blame which people lay
upon their own faults has no deep root: and presently the noble lady
Olivia so far forgot the inequality between her fortunes and those of
this seeming page, as well as the maidenly reserve which is the chief
ornament of a lady's character, that she resolved to court the love of
young Cesario, and sent a servant after him with a diamond ring, under
the pretence that he had left it with her as a present from Orsino.
She hoped, by thus artfully making Cesario a present of the ring, she
should give him some intimation of her design; and truly it did make
Viola suspect; for knowing that Orsino had sent no ring by her, she
began to recollect that Olivia's looks and manner were expressive of
admiration, and she presently guessed her master's mistress had fallen
in love with her. "Alas," said she, "the poor lady might as well love
a dream. Disguise I see is wicked, for it has caused Olivia to breathe
as fruitless sighs for me, as I do for Orsino."

Viola returned to Orsino's palace, and related to her lord the ill
success of the negociation, repeating the command of Olivia, that
the duke should trouble her no more. Yet still the duke persisted in
hoping that the gentle Cesario would in time be able to persuade her
to shew some pity, and therefore he bade him he should go to her again
the next day. In the mean time, to pass away the tedious interval,
he commanded a song which he loved to be sung; and he said, "My good
Cesario, when I heard that song last night, methought it did relieve
my passion much. Mark it, Cesario, it is old and plain. The spinsters
and the knitters when they sit in the sun, and the young maids that
weave their thread with bone, chaunt this song. It is silly, yet I
love it, for it tells of the innocence of love in th