Sir To. Send for money, knight; if thou hast her not i'the end, call me Cut. Sir And. If I do not, never trust me, take it how you will. Sir To. Come, come; I'll go burn fome fack, 'tis too late to go to-bed now: come, knight; come, knight. [Exeunt. SCENE IV. The Duke's Palace. Enter Duke, VIOLA, CURIO, and others. Duke. Give me fome mufick:-Now, good-mor row, friends: Now, good Cefario, but that piece of fong, Cur. He is not here, fo pleafe your lordihip, that fhould fing it. Duke. Who was it? Cur. Fefte, the jefter, my lord; a fool, that the lady Olivia's father took much delight in : he is about the house. Duke. Seek him out, and play the tune the while. [Exit CURIO. [Mufick. Come hither, boy; If ever thou fhalt love, In the fweet pangs of it, remember me: For, fuch as I ain, all true lovers are; Urftaid and fkittifh in all motions elfe, Save, in the conftant image of the creature That is belov'd,-How doft thou like this tune? Where Where love is thron'd. Duke. Thou doft fpeak mafterly: My life upon't, young though thou art, thine eye Hath ftay'd upon fome favour that it loves Hath it not, boy? Vio. A little, by your favour. Duke. What kind of woman is't? Duke. She is not worth thee then. What years, take An elder than herfelf; fo wears she to him, Vio. I think it well, my lord. [felf, Duke. Then let thy love be younger than thyOr thy affection cannot hold the bent: For women are as rofes; whose fair flower, Being once difplay'd, doth fall that very hour. Vio. And fo they are: alas, that they are fo; To die, even when they to perfection grow! Re-enter CURIO, and Clown. Duke. O fellow, come, the fong we had last nigh:Mark it, Cefario; it is old, and plain : The fpinfters and the knitters in the fun, [bɔnes, And the free maids that weave their thread with Clo Clo. Are you ready, fir? Duke. Ay, pr'ythee, fing. Come SONG: death, [Mufick come away, My part of death no one fo true, Not a flower, not a flower feet, On my black coffin let there be strewn ; My poor corpfe, where my bones fhall be thrown: Sad true-love never find my grave; Duke. There's for thy pains. Clo. No pains, fir; I take pleasure in finging, fir. Duke. I'll pay thy pleasure then. Clo. Truly, fir, and pleasure will be paid, one time or other. Duke. Give me now leave to leave thee. Clo. Now, the melancholy god protect thees and the tailor make thy doublet of changeable taffata, for thy mind is very opal!-I would have men of fuch conftancy put to fea, that their bufinefs might be every thing, and their intent every where where ; for that's it, that always makes a good voyage of nothing.-Farewell. Duke. Let all the reft give place. Once more, Cefario, Get thee to yon fame fovereign cruelty: [Exit. [Exeunt. Tell her, my love, more noble than the world, The parts that fortune hath bestow'd upon her, Say, that fome lady, as, perhaps, there is, Can bide the beating of fo ftrong a paffion, And can digeft as much: make no compare Vio. Ay, but I know, Duke. What doft 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 As it might be, perhaps, were I a woman, Duke. And what's her hiftory? Vio. A blank, my lord: She never told her love, But let concealment, like a worm i' the bud, Feed on her damask cheek: fhe pin'd in thought; And, with a green and yellow melancholy, She fat like patience on a monument, Smiling at grief. Was not this love, indeed? We men may say more, swear more: but, indeed, Our fhows are more than will; for, ftill we prove Much in our vows, but little in our love. Duke. But dy'd thy fifter of her love, my boy? Vio. I am all the daughters of my father's houfe, And all the brothers too; and yet I know not:Sir, fhall I to this lady? Duke. Ay, that's the theme To her in haste; give her this jewel; fay, My love can give no place, bide no denay. [Exeunt. SCENE V. OLIVIA's Garden. Enter Sir TOBY, Sir ANDREW, and FABIAN. Sir To. Come thy ways, fignior Fabian. Fab. Nay, I'll come; if I lofe a fcruple of this fport, let me be boil'd to death with melancholy. Sir To. Would'ft thou not be glad to have the niggardly rafcally fheep-biter come by fome notable fhame? Fab. I would exult, man: you know, he brought me out of favour with my lady, about a bear-baiting here. Sir To. To anger him, we'll have the bear again: and |