Twelfth Night | Act II, Scene IV
Scene IV
Duke Orsino's palace.
[Enter Duke, 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,(5)
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.(10)
- 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,(15)
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?(20)
- 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:(25)
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?(30)
- 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,(35)
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,(40)
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!(45)
[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,(50)
And dallies with the innocence of love
Like the old age.
- CLOWN:
-
Are you ready, sir?
- DUKE ORSINO:
-
Ay; prithee, sing.
[Music]
- CLOWN:
-
(55)
[Sings]
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,(60)
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;(65)
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,(70)
To weep there!
- DUKE ORSINO:
-
[giving money]
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(75)
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(80)
to sea, that their business might be everything, and their
intent everywhere; for that's it that always makes a good
voyage of nothing. Farewell.
[Exit Clown.]
- DUKE ORSINO:
-
Let all the rest give place.
[Exeunt Curio and Attendants.]
Once more, Cesario,(85)
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;(90)
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.(95)
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 ORSINO:
-
There is no woman's sides(100)
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,(105)
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.(110)
- 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,(115)
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,(120)
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,(125)
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.(130)
Sir, shall I to this lady?
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