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  • Title: Twelfth Night (Folio 1, 1623)
  • Editors: David Carnegie, Mark Houlahan

    • ISBN: 978-1-55058-372-4

    Copyright Internet Shakespeare Editions. This text may be freely used for educational, non-proift purposes; for all other uses contact the Coordinating Editor.
    Author: William Shakespeare
    Editors: David Carnegie, Mark Houlahan
    Peer Reviewed

    Twelfth Night (Folio 1, 1623)

    262 Twelfe Night, or, What you will.
    that they come from my Neece, and that shee's in loue
    with him.
    Mar. My purpose is indeed a horse of that colour.
    860An. And your horse now would make him an Asse.
    Mar. Asse, I doubt not.
    An. O twill be admirable.
    Mar. Sport royall I warrant you: I know my Phy-
    sicke will worke with him, I will plant you two, and let
    865the Foole make a third, where he shall finde the Letter:
    obserue his construction of it: For this night to bed, and
    dreame on the euent: Farewell. Exit
    To. Good night Penthisilea.
    An. Before me she's a good wench.
    870To. She's a beagle true bred, and one that adores me:
    what o'that?
    An. I was ador'd once too.
    To. Let's to bed knight: Thou hadst neede send for
    more money.
    875An. If I cannot recouer your Neece, I am a foule way
    out.
    To. Send for money knight, if thou hast her not i'th
    end, call me Cut.
    An. If I do not, neuer trust me, take it how you will.
    880To. Come, come, Ile go burne some Sacke, tis too late
    to go to bed now: Come knight, come knight. Exeunt



    Scena Quarta.


    Enter Duke, Viola, Curio, and others.
    Du. Giue me some Musick; Now good morow frends.
    885Now good Cesario , but that peece of song,
    That old and Anticke song we heard last night;
    Me thought it did releeue my passion much,
    More then light ayres, and recollected termes
    Of these most briske and giddy-paced times.
    890Come, but one verse.
    Cur. He is not heere (so please your Lordshippe) that
    should sing it?
    Du. Who was it?
    Cur. Feste the Iester my Lord, a foole that the Ladie
    895Oliuiaes Father tooke much delight in. He is about the
    house.
    Du. Seeke him out, and play the tune the while.
    Musicke playes.
    Come hither Boy, if euer thou shalt loue
    900In the sweet pangs of it, remember me:
    For such as I am, all true Louers are,
    Vnstaid and skittish in all motions else,
    Saue in the constant image of the creature
    That is belou'd. How dost thou like this tune?
    905Vio. It giues a verie eccho to the seate
    Where loue is thron'd.
    Du. Thou dost speake masterly,
    My life vpon't, yong though thou art, thine eye
    Hath staid vpon some fauour that it loues:
    910Hath it not boy?
    Vio. A little, by your fauour.
    Du. What kinde of woman ist?
    Vio. Of your complection.
    Du. She is not worth thee then. What yeares ifaith?
    915Vio. About your yeeres my Lord.
    Du. Too old by heauen: Let still the woman take
    An elder then her selfe, so weares she to him;
    So swayes she leuell in her husbands heart:
    For boy, howeuer we do praise our selues,
    920Our fancies are more giddie and vnfirme,
    More longing, wauering, sooner lost and worne,
    Then womens are.
    Vio. I thinke it well my Lord.
    Du. Then let thy Loue be yonger then thy selfe,
    925Or thy affection cannot hold the bent:
    For women are as Roses, whose faire flowre
    Being once displaid, doth fall that verie howre.
    Vio. And so they are: alas, that they are so:
    To die, euen when they to perfection grow.
    930Enter Curio & Clowne.
    Du. O fellow come, the song we had last night:
    Marke it Cesario, it is old and plaine;
    The Spinsters and the Knitters in the Sun,
    And the free maides that weaue their thred with bones,
    935Do vse to chaunt it: it is silly sooth,
    And dallies with the innocence of loue,
    Like the old age.
    Clo. Are you ready Sir?
    Duke. I prethee sing. Musicke.
    940The Song.

    Come away, come away death,
    And in sad cypresse let me be laide.
    Fye away, fie away breath,
    I am slaine by a faire cruell maide:
    945 My shrowd of white, stuck all with Ew, O prepare it.
    My part of death no one so true did share it.

    Not a flower, not a flower sweete
    On my blacke coffin, let there be strewne:
    Not a friend, not a friend greet
    950My poore corpes, where my bones shall be throwne:
    A thousand thousand sighes to saue, lay me ô where
    Sad true louer neuer find my graue, to weepe there.

    Du. There's for thy paines.
    Clo. No paines sir, I take pleasure in singing sir.
    955Du. Ile pay thy pleasure then.
    Clo. Truely sir, and pleasure will be paide one time, or
    another.
    Du. Giue me now leaue, to leaue thee.
    Clo. Now the melancholly God protect thee, and the
    960Tailor make thy doublet of changeable Taffata, for thy
    minde is a very Opall. I would haue men of such constan-
    cie put to Sea, that their businesse might be euery thing,
    and their intent euerie where, for that's it, that alwayes
    makes a good voyage of nothing. Farewell. Exit
    965Du. Let all the rest giue place: Once more Cesario,
    Get thee to yond same soueraigne crueltie:
    Tell her my loue, more noble then the world
    Prizes not quantitie of dirtie lands,
    The parts that fortune hath bestow'd vpon her:
    970Tell her I hold as giddily as Fortune:
    But 'tis that miracle, and Queene of Iems
    That nature prankes her in, attracts my soule.
    Vio. But if she cannot loue you sir.
    Du. It cannot be so answer'd.
    975Vio. Sooth but you must.
    Say that some Lady, as perhappes there is,
    Hath for your loue as great a pang of heart
    As you haue for Oliuia: you cannot loue her:
    You tel her so: Must she not then be answer'd?
    980Du. There is no womans sides
    Can
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