OLIVIA.
That's a degree to love.

VIOLA.
No, not a grize; for 't is a vulgar proof,
That very oft we pity enemies.

OLIVIA.
Why, then methinks 't is time to smile again.
O world, how apt the poor are to be proud!
If one should be a prey, how much the better
To fall before the lion than the wolf! [Clock strikes]
The clock upbraids me with the waste of time.
Be not afraid, good youth, I will not have you;
And yet, when wit and youth is come to harvest,
Your wife is like to reap a proper man.
There lies your way, due west.

VIOLA.
Then westward-ho! Grace and good disposition
Attend your ladyship!
You'll nothing, madam, to my lord by me?

OLIVIA.
Stay:
I prithee, tell me what thou think'st of me.

VIOLA.
That you do think you are not what you are.