SCENE IV. A Room in the Duke's Palace. Enter Duke, VIOLA, CURIO, and Others. Duke. Give me some musick :-Now, good mor- Now, good Cesario, but that piece of song, Cur. He is not here, so please your lordship, that should sing it. Duke. Who was it? Cur. Feste, the jester, my lord; a fool, that the lady Olivia's father took much delight in : he is about the house. Duke. Seek him out, and play the tune the while. [Exit Curio,-Musick. 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 belov'd.-How dost thou like this tune? Vio. It gives a very echo to the seat Where love is thron'd. Duke Thou dost speak masterly: My life upon't, young though thou art, thine eye Hath it not, boy? Vio. About your years, my lord. Duke. 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. Vio. I think it well, my lord. Duke. 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. Vio. And so they are: alas, that they are so; To die, even when they to perfection grow! Re-enter CURIO, and Clown. Duke. 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 chaunt it; it is silly sooth, And dallies with the innocence of love, Like the old age. Clo. Are you ready, sir? Duke. Ay; pr'ythee, sing. SONG. Clo. Come away, come away, death, Fly away, fly away, breath; I am slain by a fair cruel maid. My part of death no one so true black coffin let there be strown; Not a friend, not a friend greet [Musick. My poor corpse, where my bones shall be thrown: Lay me, 0, where Sad true lover ne'er find my grave, Duke. There's for thy pains. Clo. No pains, sir; I take pleasure in singing, sir. Duke. I'll pay thy pleasure then. Clo. Truly, sir, and pleasure will be paid, one time or another. Duke. Give me now leave to leave thee. 31 Clo. Now, the melancholy god protect thee; and the tailor make thy doublet of changeable taffata, for thy mind is a very opal 1 !—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.— Farewel. [Exit Clown. Duke. Let all the rest give place. [Exeunt Curio and Attendants. Once more, Cesario, Get thee to yon' same sovereign cruelty : Tell her, my love, more noble than the world, The parts that fortune hath bestow'd upon her, Vio. 'Sooth, but you must. Say, that some lady, as, perhaps, there is, Hath for your love as great a pang of heart As you have for Olivia: you cannot love her; Can bide the beating of so strong a passion So big, to hold so much; they lack retention. Vio. Ay, but I know,— Duke. What dost thou know? Vio. Too well what love women to men may owe: In faith, they are as true of heart as we. My father had a daughter lov'd a man, As it might be, perhaps, were I a woman, Duke. And what's her history? Vio. A blank, my lord: She never told her love, But let concealment, like a worm i'the bud, Feed on her damask cheek: she pin'd in thought; She sat like patience on a monument, We men may say more, swear more: but, indeed, Duke. But dy'd thy sister of her love, my boy? Vio. 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. Ay, that's the theme. |