Act 2, Scene 4: DUKE ORSINO's palace

SCENE IV. DUKE ORSINO's palace.

    Enter DUKE ORSINO, VIOLA, CURIO, and others

DUKE ORSINO

    Give me some music. Now, good morrow, friends.
    Now, good Cesario, but that piece of song,
    That old and antique song we heard last night:
    Methought it did relieve my passion much,
    More than light airs and recollected terms
    Of these most brisk and giddy-paced times:
    Come, but one verse.

CURIO

    He is not here, so please your lordship that should sing it.

DUKE ORSINO

    Who was it?

CURIO

    Feste, the jester, my lord; a fool that the lady
    Olivia's father took much delight in. He is about the house.

DUKE ORSINO

    Seek him out, and play the tune the while.

    Exit CURIO. Music plays
    Come hither, boy: if ever thou shalt love,
    In the sweet pangs of it remember me;
    For such as I am all true lovers are,
    Unstaid and skittish in all motions else,
    Save in the constant image of the creature
    That is beloved. How dost thou like this tune?

VIOLA

    It gives a very echo to the seat
    Where Love is throned.

DUKE ORSINO

    Thou dost speak masterly:
    My life upon't, young though thou art, thine eye
    Hath stay'd upon some favour that it loves:
    Hath it not, boy?

VIOLA

    A little, by your favour.

DUKE ORSINO

    What kind of woman is't?

VIOLA

    Of your complexion.

DUKE ORSINO

    She is not worth thee, then. What years, i' faith?

VIOLA

    About your years, my lord.

DUKE ORSINO

    Too old by heaven: let still the woman take
    An elder than herself: so wears she to him,
    So sways she level in her husband's heart:
    For, boy, however we do praise ourselves,
    Our fancies are more giddy and unfirm,
    More longing, wavering, sooner lost and worn,
    Than women's are.

VIOLA

    I think it well, my lord.

DUKE ORSINO

    Then let thy love be younger than thyself,
    Or thy affection cannot hold the bent;
    For women are as roses, whose fair flower
    Being once display'd, doth fall that very hour.

VIOLA

    And so they are: alas, that they are so;
    To die, even when they to perfection grow!

    Re-enter CURIO and Clown

DUKE ORSINO

    O, fellow, come, the song we had last night.
    Mark it, Cesario, it is old and plain;
    The spinsters and the knitters in the sun
    And the free maids that weave their thread with bones
    Do use to chant it: it is silly sooth,
    And dallies with the innocence of love,
    Like the old age.

Clown

    Are you ready, sir?

DUKE ORSINO

    Ay; prithee, sing.

    Music
    SONG.

Clown

    Come away, come away, death,
    And in sad cypress let me be laid;
    Fly away, fly away breath;
    I am slain by a fair cruel maid.
    My shroud of white, stuck all with yew,
    O, prepare it!
    My part of death, no one so true
    Did share it.
    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!

DUKE ORSINO

    There's for thy pains.

Clown

    No pains, sir: I take pleasure in singing, sir.

DUKE ORSINO

    I'll pay thy pleasure then.

Clown

    Truly, sir, and pleasure will be paid, one time or another.

DUKE ORSINO

    Give me now leave to leave thee.

Clown

    Now, the melancholy god protect thee; and the
    tailor make thy doublet of changeable taffeta, for
    thy mind is a very opal. I would have men of such
    constancy put to sea, that their business might be
    every thing and their intent every where; for that's
    it that always makes a good voyage of nothing. Farewell.

    Exit

DUKE ORSINO

    Let all the rest give place.

    CURIO and Attendants retire
    Once more, Cesario,
    Get thee to yond same sovereign cruelty:
    Tell her, my love, more noble than the world,
    Prizes not quantity of dirty lands;
    The parts that fortune hath bestow'd upon her,
    Tell her, I hold as giddily as fortune;
    But 'tis that miracle and queen of gems
    That nature pranks her in attracts my soul.

VIOLA

    But if she cannot love you, sir?

DUKE ORSINO

    I cannot be so answer'd.

VIOLA

    Sooth, but you must.
    Say that some lady, as perhaps there is,
    Hath for your love a great a pang of heart
    As you have for Olivia: you cannot love her;
    You tell her so; must she not then be answer'd?

DUKE ORSINO

    There is no woman's sides
    Can bide the beating of so strong a passion
    As love doth give my heart; no woman's heart
    So big, to hold so much; they lack retention
    Alas, their love may be call'd appetite,
    No motion of the liver, but the palate,
    That suffer surfeit, cloyment and revolt;
    But mine is all as hungry as the sea,
    And can digest as much: make no compare
    Between that love a woman can bear me
    And that I owe Olivia.

VIOLA

    Ay, but I know--

DUKE ORSINO

    What dost thou know?

VIOLA

    Too well what love women to men may owe:
    In faith, they are as true of heart as we.
    My father had a daughter loved a man,
    As it might be, perhaps, were I a woman,
    I should your lordship.

DUKE ORSINO

    And what's her history?

VIOLA

    A blank, my lord. She never told her love,
    But let concealment, like a worm i' the bud,
    Feed on her damask cheek: she pined in thought,
    And with a green and yellow melancholy
    She sat like patience on a monument,
    Smiling at grief. Was not this love indeed?
    We men may say more, swear more: but indeed
    Our shows are more than will; for still we prove
    Much in our vows, but little in our love.

DUKE ORSINO

    But died thy sister of her love, my boy?

VIOLA

    I am all the daughters of my father's house,
    And all the brothers too: and yet I know not.
    Sir, shall I to this lady?

DUKE ORSINO

    Ay, that's the theme.
    To her in haste; give her this jewel; say,
    My love can give no place, bide no denay.

    Exeunt