Not a flower, not a flower sweet,
    On my black coffin let there be strown: 
  Not a friend, not a friend greet
    My poor corpse, where my bones shall be thrown. 
  A thousand thousand sighs to save, lay me O where
  Sad true lover never find my grave, to weep there.

Viola did not fail to mark the words of the old song, which in such true simplicity described the pangs of unrequited love, and she bore testimony in her countenance of feeling what the song expressed.  Her sad looks were observed by Orsino, who said to her, “My life upon it, Cesario, though you are so young, your eye has looked upon some face that it loves; has it not, boy?” “A little, with your leave,” replied Viola.  “And what kind of woman, and of what age is she?” said Orsino.  “Of your age, and of your complexion, my lord,” said Viola; which made the duke smile to hear this fair young boy loved a woman so much older than himself, and of a man’s dark complexion; but Viola secretly meant Orsino, and not a woman like him.

When Viola made her second visit to Olivia, she found no difficulty in gaining access to her.  Servants soon discover when their ladies delight to converse with handsome young messengers; and the instant Viola arrived, the gates were thrown wide open, and the duke’s page was shewn into Olivia’s apartment with great respect; and when Viola told Olivia that she was come once more to plead in her lord’s behalf, this lady said, “I desired you never to speak of him again; but if you would undertake another suit, I had rather hear you solicit, than music from the spheres.”  This was pretty plain speaking, but Olivia soon explained herself still more plainly, and openly confessed her love; and when she saw displeasure with perplexity expressed in Viola’s face, she said, “O what a deal of scorn looks beautiful in the contempt and anger of his lip!  Cesario, by the roses of the spring, by maidhood, honour, and by truth, I love you so, that, in spite of your pride, I have neither wit nor reason to conceal my passion.”  But in vain the lady wooed; Viola hastened from her presence, threatening never more to come to plead Orsino’s love; and all the reply she made to Olivia’s fond solicitation was, a declaration of a resolution Never to love any woman.

No sooner had Viola left the lady than a claim was made upon her valour.  A gentleman, a rejected suitor of Olivia, who had learned how that lady had favoured the duke’s messenger, challenged him to fight a duel.  What should poor Viola do, who, though she carried a manlike outside, had a true woman’s heart, and feared to look on her own sword!