Twelfth Night; Or, What You Will

1 Enter Duke, Viola, Curio and others.
2 DUKE.
3 Give me some music. Now, good morrow, friends.
4 Now, good Cesario, but that piece of song,
5 That old and antique song we heard last night;
6 Methought it did relieve my passion much,
7 More than light airs and recollected terms
8 Of these most brisk and giddy-paced times.
9 Come, but one verse.
10 CURIO.
11 He is not here, so please your lordship, that should sing it.
12 DUKE.
13 Who was it?
14 CURIO.
15 Feste, the jester, my lord, a fool that the Lady Olivia’s father took
16 much delight in. He is about the house.
17 DUKE.
18 Seek him out, and play the tune the while.
19 [_Exit Curio. Music plays._]
20 Come hither, boy. If ever thou shalt love,
21 In the sweet pangs of it remember me:
22 For such as I am, all true lovers are,
23 Unstaid and skittish in all motions else,
24 Save in the constant image of the creature
25 That is belov’d. How dost thou like this tune?
26 VIOLA.
27 It gives a very echo to the seat
28 Where love is throned.
29 DUKE.
30 Thou dost speak masterly.
31 My life upon’t, young though thou art, thine eye
32 Hath stayed upon some favour that it loves.
33 Hath it not, boy?
34 VIOLA.
35 A little, by your favour.
36 DUKE.
37 What kind of woman is’t?
38 VIOLA.
39 Of your complexion.
40 DUKE.
41 She is not worth thee, then. What years, i’ faith?
42 VIOLA.
43 About your years, my lord.
44 DUKE.
45 Too old, by heaven! Let still the woman take
46 An elder than herself; so wears she to him,
47 So sways she level in her husband’s heart.
48 For, boy, however we do praise ourselves,
49 Our fancies are more giddy and unfirm,
50 More longing, wavering, sooner lost and worn,
51 Than women’s are.
52 VIOLA.
53 I think it well, my lord.
54 DUKE.
55 Then let thy love be younger than thyself,
56 Or thy affection cannot hold the bent:
57 For women are as roses, whose fair flower
58 Being once display’d, doth fall that very hour.
59 VIOLA.
60 And so they are: alas, that they are so;
61 To die, even when they to perfection grow!
62 Enter Curio and Clown.
63 DUKE.
64 O, fellow, come, the song we had last night.
65 Mark it, Cesario, it is old and plain;
66 The spinsters and the knitters in the sun,
67 And the free maids, that weave their thread with bones
68 Do use to chant it: it is silly sooth,
69 And dallies with the innocence of love
70 Like the old age.
71 CLOWN.
72 Are you ready, sir?
73 DUKE.
74 Ay; prithee, sing.
75 [_Music._]
76 The Clown’s song.
77 _ Come away, come away, death.
78 And in sad cypress let me be laid.
79 Fly away, fly away, breath;
80 I am slain by a fair cruel maid.
81 My shroud of white, stuck all with yew,
82 O, prepare it!
83 My part of death no one so true
84 Did share it._
85 _ Not a flower, not a flower sweet,
86 On my black coffin let there be strown:
87 Not a friend, not a friend greet
88 My poor corpse where my bones shall be thrown:
89 A thousand thousand sighs to save,
90 Lay me, O, where
91 Sad true lover never find my grave,
92 To weep there._
93 DUKE.
94 There’s for thy pains.
95 CLOWN.
96 No pains, sir; I take pleasure in singing, sir.
97 DUKE.
98 I’ll pay thy pleasure, then.
99 CLOWN.
100 Truly sir, and pleasure will be paid one time or another.
101 DUKE.
102 Give me now leave to leave thee.
103 CLOWN.
104 Now the melancholy god protect thee, and the tailor make thy doublet of
105 changeable taffeta, for thy mind is a very opal. I would have men of
106 such constancy put to sea, that their business might be everything, and
107 their intent everywhere, for that’s it that always makes a good voyage
108 of nothing. Farewell.
109 [_Exit Clown._]
110 DUKE.
111 Let all the rest give place.
112 [_Exeunt Curio and Attendants._]
113 Once more, Cesario,
114 Get thee to yond same sovereign cruelty.
115 Tell her my love, more noble than the world,
116 Prizes not quantity of dirty lands;
117 The parts that fortune hath bestow’d upon her,
118 Tell her I hold as giddily as fortune;
119 But ’tis that miracle and queen of gems
120 That nature pranks her in attracts my soul.
121 VIOLA.
122 But if she cannot love you, sir?
123 DUKE.
124 I cannot be so answer’d.
125 VIOLA.
126 Sooth, but you must.
127 Say that some lady, as perhaps there is,
128 Hath for your love as great a pang of heart
129 As you have for Olivia: you cannot love her;
130 You tell her so. Must she not then be answer’d?
131 DUKE.
132 There is no woman’s sides
133 Can bide the beating of so strong a passion
134 As love doth give my heart: no woman’s heart
135 So big, to hold so much; they lack retention.
136 Alas, their love may be called appetite,
137 No motion of the liver, but the palate,
138 That suffer surfeit, cloyment, and revolt;
139 But mine is all as hungry as the sea,
140 And can digest as much. Make no compare
141 Between that love a woman can bear me
142 And that I owe Olivia.
143 VIOLA.
144 Ay, but I know—
145 DUKE.
146 What dost thou know?
147 VIOLA.
148 Too well what love women to men may owe.
149 In faith, they are as true of heart as we.
150 My father had a daughter loved a man,
151 As it might be perhaps, were I a woman,
152 I should your lordship.
153 DUKE.
154 And what’s her history?
155 VIOLA.
156 A blank, my lord. She never told her love,
157 But let concealment, like a worm i’ th’ bud,
158 Feed on her damask cheek: she pined in thought,
159 And with a green and yellow melancholy
160 She sat like patience on a monument,
161 Smiling at grief. Was not this love, indeed?
162 We men may say more, swear more, but indeed,
163 Our shows are more than will; for still we prove
164 Much in our vows, but little in our love.
165 DUKE.
166 But died thy sister of her love, my boy?
167 VIOLA.
168 I am all the daughters of my father’s house,
169 And all the brothers too: and yet I know not.
170 Sir, shall I to this lady?
171 DUKE.
172 Ay, that’s the theme.
173 To her in haste. Give her this jewel; say
174 My love can give no place, bide no denay.
175 [_Exeunt._]