TWELFTH NIGHT.

JULIA MARLOWE AS VIOLA.

The accompanying picture of Miss Marlowe possesses all the grace and charm of a well-composed portrait from a master-brush. As the young page in love with the mourning Countess Olivia this sympathetic actress has found a rôle which seems ordained for her by nature.

OR,

WHAT YOU WILL.

ACT I.

SCENE I. The DUKE's palace.

Enter DUKE, CURIO, and other Lords; Musicians

attending.

Duke. If music be the food of love, play on;
Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting,
The appetite may sicken, and so die.
That strain again! it had a dying fall:

O, it came o'er my ear like the sweet sound,
That breathes upon a bank of violets,

Stealing and giving odour! Enough; no more: 'Tis not so sweet now as it was before.

O spirit of love! how quick and fresh art thou,
That, notwithstanding thy capacity
Receiveth as the sea, nought enters there,
Of what validity* and pitch soe'er,
But falls into abatement and low price,
Even in a minute: so full of shapes is fancy
That it alone is high fantastical.

Cur. Will you go hunt, my lord?
Duke.

Cur. The hart.

ΙΟ

*Value..

What, Curio?

Duke. Why, so I do, the noblest that I have: O, when mine eyes did see Olivia first, Methought she purged the air of pestilence! That instant was I turn'd into a hart;

And my desires, like fell and cruel hounds,
E'er since pursue me.

Enter VALENTINE.

20

How now! what news from her?

Val. So please my lord, I might not be admitted;

But from her handmaid do return this answer:
The element itself, till seven years' heat,