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: For, boy, however we do praise ourselves, Vio. I think it well, my lord. Duke. Then, let thy love be younger that thyself, Or thy affection cannot hold the bent; 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, Do use to chant it: it is silly sooth, And dallies with the innocenco [Music. SONG. Clo. Come away, come away, death, My part of death, no one so true Not a flower, not a flower sweet, My poor corse, where my bones shall be thrown: Lay me, 0, 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, Scene 4.] TWELFTH-NIGHT. 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 taffeta, for thy mind is a very opal !—I would have men of such constancy put to sea, that their business might be everything, and their intent everywhere; for that's it, that always makes a good voyage of [Exit. nothing.-Farewell. Duke. Let all the rest give place. — [Exeunt CURIO and Attendants. 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 bestowed upon her, Tell her, I hold as giddily as Fortune; of queen gems But 't is that miracle and my soul. you, sir? Sooth, but you must. Vio. But if she cannot love Vio. Say, that some lady, as perhaps there is, Hath for your love as great a pang of heart You tell h Duke. There is no woman's sides Can bide the beating of so strong a passion 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. Duke. And what's her history Tio. A blank, my lord. love, She never told her But let concealment, like a worm i' the bud, Feed on her damask cheek: she pined in thought; 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. [Exeunt. SCENE V.-OLIVIA'S Garden. Enter Sir TOBY BELCH, Sir ANDREW AGUE-CHEEK, 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. 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' favour with my lady about a bear-bait |