2.4.0.1883Enter Orsino, Viola [as Cesario], Curio, and others. [To the Musicians] Give me some music. [To the Courtiers] Now good morrow, friends;
2.4.2885Now, good Cesario--but that piece of song,
2.4.3886That old and antique song we heard last night;
2.4.4887Methought it did relieve my passion much,
2.4.5888More than light airs and recollected terms
2.4.6889Of these most brisk and giddy-pacèd times.
He is not here, so please your lordship, that
Who was it?
Feste the jester, my lord, a fool that the Lady
895Olivia's father took much delight in. He is about the
896house.
Seek him out, [To the Musicians] and play the tune the while.
2.4.13899Come hither, boy. If ever thou shalt love,
2.4.14900In the sweet pangs of it, remember me.
2.4.15901For such as I am, all true lovers are:
2.4.16902Unstaid and skittish in all motions else,
2.4.17903Save in the constant image of the creature
2.4.18904That is beloved. How dost thou like this tune?
It gives a very echo to the seat
Where love is throned. Thou dost speak masterly;
2.4.21908My life upon't, young though thou art, thine eye
2.4.22909Hath stayed upon some favor that it loves.
Hath it not, boy? A little, by your favor.
What kind of woman is't?
What kind of woman is't? Of your complexion.
She is not worth thee then. What years, i'faith?
About your years, my lord.
Too old, by heaven! Let still the woman take
2.4.28917An elder than her self; so wears she to him,
2.4.29918So sways she level in her husband's heart.
2.4.30919For, boy, however we do praise ourselves,
2.4.31920Our fancies are more giddy and unfirm,
2.4.32921More longing, wavering, sooner lost and worn,
Than women's are. I think it well, my lord.
Then let thy love be younger than thyself,
2.4.35925Or thy affection cannot hold the bent;
2.4.36926For women are as roses, whose fair flower
2.4.37927Being once displayed, doth fall that very hour.
And so they are. Alas, that they are so:
2.4.39929To die, even when they to perfection grow.
Oh, fellow, come, the song we had last night.
2.4.41932Mark it, Cesario, it is old and plain;
2.4.42933The spinsters and the knitters in the sun,
2.4.43934And the free maids that weave their thread with bones,
2.4.44935Do use to chant it. It is silly sooth,
2.4.45936And dallies with the innocence of love,
Are you ready, sir?
Ay, prithee sing. Music.
[Singing]
Come away, come away, death,
2.4.53945 My shroud of white, stuck all with yew,
2.4.58948On my black coffin let there be strewn.
2.4.60950My poor corpse, where my bones shall be thrown.
2.4.61951 A thousand, thousand sighs to save,
2.4.63952 Sad true lover never find my grave,
[Giving money] There's for thy pains.
No pains, sir; I take pleasure in singing, sir.
I'll pay thy pleasure then.
Truly, sir, and pleasure will be paid, one time or
957another.
Give me now leave to leave thee.
Now the melancholy god protect thee, and the
960tailor make thy doublet of changeable taffeta, for thy
961mind is a very opal. I would have men of such
962constancy put to sea, that their business might be everything,
963and their intent everywhere; for that's it that always
964makes a good voyage of nothing. Farewell.
Let all the rest give place.
2.4.71.1[All the Courtiers except Viola stand apart.] Let all the rest give place. Once more, Cesario,
2.4.72966Get thee to yond same sovereign cruelty.
2.4.73967Tell her my love, more noble than the world,
2.4.75969The parts that Fortune hath bestowed upon her,
2.4.76970Tell her I hold as giddily as Fortune;
2.4.77971But 'tis that miracle and queen of gems
2.4.78972That Nature pranks her in, attracts my soul.
But if she cannot love you, sir?
I cannot be so answered.
I cannot be so answered. Sooth, but you must.
2.4.81976Say that some lady, as perhaps there is,
2.4.82977Hath for your love as great a pang of heart
2.4.83978As you have for Olivia. You cannot love her.
2.4.84979You tell her so. Must she not then be answered?
There is no woman's sides
2.4.86981Can bide the beating of so strong a passion
2.4.87982As love doth give my heart; no woman's heart
2.4.88983So big, to hold so much. They lack retention.
2.4.89984Alas, their love may be called appetite,
2.4.90985No motion of the liver, but the palate,
2.4.91986That suffers surfeit, cloyment, and revolt;
2.4.92987But mine is all as hungry as the sea,
2.4.93988And can digest as much. Make no compare
2.4.94989Between that love a woman can bear me,
And that I owe Olivia. Ay, but I know--
What dost thou know?
Too well what love women to men may owe.
2.4.98994In faith, they are as true of heart as we.
2.4.99995My father had a daughter loved a man
I should your lordship. And what's her history?
A blank, my lord. She never told her love,
2.4.1041001Feed on her damask cheek. She pined in thought,
2.4.1091006Our shows are more than will: for still we prove
But died thy sister of her love, my boy?
I am all the daughters of my father's house,
2.4.1131010And all the brothers too; and yet I know not--
Sir, shall I to this lady? Ay, that's the theme.
2.4.1151013To her in haste;
[Giving a jewel] give her this jewel; say