Twelfth Night by William Shakespeare
Act 2 - Scene 4
DUKE ORSINO’s palace.
Orsino : Give me some music. Now, good morrow, friends.
[p]Now, good Cesario,
but that piece of song,
[p]That old and antique song we heard last
night:
[p]Methought it did relieve my passion much,
[p]More than light
airs and recollected terms
[p]Of these most brisk and giddy-paced
times:
[p]Come, but one verse.
Curio : He is not here, so please your lordship that should sing it.
Orsino : Who was it?
Curio : Feste, the jester, my lord; a fool that the lady
[p]Olivia's father
took much delight in. He is about the house.
Orsino : Seek him out, and play the tune the while.
[p][Exit CURIO. Music
plays]
[p]Come hither, boy: if ever thou shalt love,
[p]In the sweet
pangs of it remember me;
[p]For such as I am all true lovers
are,
[p]Unstaid and skittish in all motions else,
[p]Save in the
constant image of the creature
[p]That is beloved. How dost thou like
this tune?
Viola : It gives a very echo to the seat
[p]Where Love is throned.
Orsino : Thou dost speak masterly:
[p]My life upon't, young though thou art,
thine eye
[p]Hath stay'd upon some favour that it loves:
[p]Hath it
not, boy?
Viola : A little, by your favour.
Orsino : What kind of woman is't?
Viola : Of your complexion.
Orsino : She is not worth thee, then. What years, i' faith?
Viola : About your years, my lord.
Orsino : Too old by heaven: let still the woman take
[p]An elder than herself:
so wears she to him,
[p]So sways she level in her husband's
heart:
[p]For, boy, however we do praise ourselves,
[p]Our fancies are
more giddy and unfirm,
[p]More longing, wavering, sooner lost and
worn,
[p]Than women's are.
Viola : I think it well, my lord.
Orsino : Then let thy love be younger than thyself,
[p]Or thy affection cannot
hold the bent;
[p]For women are as roses, whose fair flower
[p]Being
once display'd, doth fall that very hour.
Viola : And so they are: alas, that they are so;
[p]To die, even when they to
perfection grow!
Orsino : O, fellow, come, the song we had last night.
[p]Mark it, Cesario, it
is old and plain;
[p]The spinsters and the knitters in the sun
[p]And
the free maids that weave their thread with bones
[p]Do use to chant
it: it is silly sooth,
[p]And dallies with the innocence of
love,
[p]Like the old age.
Feste : Are you ready, sir?
Orsino : Ay; prithee, sing.
[p][Music]
[p]SONG.
Feste : Come away, come away, death,
[p]And in sad cypress let me be
laid;
[p]Fly away, fly away breath;
[p]I am slain by a fair cruel
maid.
[p]My shroud of white, stuck all with yew,
[p]O, prepare
it!
[p]My part of death, no one so true
[p]Did share it.
[p]Not a
flower, not a flower sweet
[p]On my black coffin let there be
strown;
[p]Not a friend, not a friend greet
[p]My poor corpse, where
my bones shall be thrown:
[p]A thousand thousand sighs to save,
[p]Lay
me, O, where
[p]Sad true lover never find my grave,
[p]To weep there!
Orsino : There's for thy pains.
Feste : No pains, sir: I take pleasure in singing, sir.
Orsino : I'll pay thy pleasure then.
Feste : Truly, sir, and pleasure will be paid, one time or another.
Orsino : Give me now leave to leave thee.
Feste : Now, the melancholy god protect thee; and the
[p]tailor make thy
doublet of changeable taffeta, for
[p]thy mind is a very opal. I would
have men of such
[p]constancy put to sea, that their business might
be
[p]every thing and their intent every where; for that's
[p]it that
always makes a good voyage of nothing. Farewell.
Orsino : Let all the rest give place.
[p][CURIO and Attendants retire]
[p]Once
more, Cesario,
[p]Get thee to yond same sovereign cruelty:
[p]Tell
her, my love, more noble than the world,
[p]Prizes not quantity of
dirty lands;
[p]The parts that fortune hath bestow'd upon her,
[p]Tell
her, I hold as giddily as fortune;
[p]But 'tis that miracle and queen
of gems
[p]That nature pranks her in attracts my soul.
Viola : But if she cannot love you, sir?
Orsino : I cannot be so answer'd.
Viola : Sooth, but you must.
[p]Say that some lady, as perhaps there
is,
[p]Hath for your love a great a pang of heart
[p]As you have for
Olivia: you cannot love her;
[p]You tell her so; must she not then be
answer'd?
Orsino : There is no woman's sides
[p]Can bide the beating of so strong a
passion
[p]As love doth give my heart; no woman's heart
[p]So big, to
hold so much; they lack retention
[p]Alas, their love may be call'd
appetite,
[p]No motion of the liver, but the palate,
[p]That suffer
surfeit, cloyment and revolt;
[p]But mine is all as hungry as the
sea,
[p]And can digest as much: make no compare
[p]Between that love a
woman can bear me
[p]And that I owe Olivia.
Viola : Ay, but I know--
Orsino : What dost thou know?
Viola : Too well what love women to men may owe:
[p]In faith, they are as true
of heart as we.
[p]My father had a daughter loved a man,
[p]As it
might be, perhaps, were I a woman,
[p]I should your lordship.
Orsino : And what's her history?
Viola : A blank, my lord. She never told her love,
[p]But let concealment,
like a worm i' the bud,
[p]Feed on her damask cheek: she pined in
thought,
[p]And with a green and yellow melancholy
[p]She sat like
patience on a monument,
[p]Smiling at grief. Was not this love
indeed?
[p]We men may say more, swear more: but indeed
[p]Our shows
are more than will; for still we prove
[p]Much in our vows, but little
in our love.
Orsino : But died thy sister of her love, my boy?
Viola : I am all the daughters of my father's house,
[p]And all the brothers
too: and yet I know not.
[p]Sir, shall I to this lady?
Orsino : Ay, that's the theme.
[p]To her in haste; give her this jewel;
say,
[p]My love can give no place, bide no denay.
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Next: Act 2 - Scene 5
