It is silly sooth,

And dallies with the innocence of love,

Like the old age.

CLO. Are you ready, sir?

DUKE. Ay, prithee sing.

 

Music.

 

The Song

 

[CLO.]

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. 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, 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.

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.

VIO.

But if she cannot love you, sir?

DUKE.

[I] cannot be so answer'd.

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;

You tell her so. Must she not then be answer'd?

DUKE.

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.

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,

I should your lordship.

DUKE.

And what's her history?

VIO.

A blank, my lord; she never told her love,

But let concealment like a worm i' th' bud

Feed on her damask cheek; she pin'd in thought,

And with a green and yellow melancholy

She sate 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.

 

 

Scene V

Enter Sir Toby, Sir Andrew, 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 boil'd to death with melancholy.

SIR TO. Wouldst 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 o' favor with my lady about a bear-baiting 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. And we do not, it is pity of our lives.

 

Enter Maria.

 

SIR TO. Here comes the little villain. How now, my metal of India?

MAR. Get ye all three into the box-tree; Malvolio's coming down this walk.