Hath stay'd upon some favour 4 that it loves; 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 Our fancies are more giddy and unfirm, Vio. I think it well, my lord. For women are as roses; whose fair flower, 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, s Do use to chaunt it; it is silly sooth," 4 Countenance. 5 Lace makers. 6 Simple truth. And dallies with the innocence of love, Like the old age.7 Clo. Are you ready, sir? Duke. Ay; pr'ythee, sing. SONG. Clo. Come away, come away, death, My shroud of white, stuck all with yew, My part of death no one so true Not a flower, not a flower sweet, [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. Clo. Now, the melancholy god protect thee; and the tailor make thy doublet of changeable taffata, 7 Times of simplicity. for thy mind is a very opal3-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 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, Duke. I cannot be so answer'd. Vio. 'Sooth, but you must. Say, that some lady, as, perhaps, there is, Can bide the beating of so strong a passion A precious stone of all colours. 9 Decks. Between that love a woman can bear me, And that I owe Olivia. 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, 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; 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. But died 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. To her in haste; give her this jewel; say, My love can give no place, bide no denay.' [Exeunt. * Denial. SCENE V. Olivia's Garden. Enter Sir TOBY BELCH, Sir ANDREW AGUECHEEK, and FABIAN. Sir To. Come thy ways, signior Fabian. Fab. Nay, I'll come; if I lose a scruple of this sport, let me be boiled to death with melancholy. Sir To. Would'st thou not be glad to have the niggardly rascally sheep-biter come by some notable shame ? Fab. I would exult, man: you know, he brought me out of favour with my lady, about a bearbaiting here. Sir To. To anger him, we'll have the bear again; and we will fool him black and blue :-Shall we not, sir Andrew? Sir And. An we do not, it is pity of our lives. Enter MARIA. Sir To. Here comes the little villain :-How now, my nettle of India? Mar. Get ye all three into the box-tree: Malvolio's coming down this walk; he has been yonder i'the sun, practising behaviour to his own shadow, this half hour: observe him, for the love of mockery; for, I know, this letter will make a contemplative idiot of him. Close, in the name of jesting! [The men hide themselves.] Lie thou there; [throws down a |