Twelfth Night by William Shakespeare

Twelfth Night, or What You Will

written by William Shakespeare

VIOLA "I left no ring with her. What means this lady?

Fortune forbid my outside have not charmed her.

She made good view of me, indeed so much

The straight methought her eyes had lost her tongue,

For she did speak in starts, distractedly.

She loves me, sure. The cunning of her passion

Invited 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!"

Act II Scene II