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The pine and cedar: graves at my command
The charm dissolves apace,
And as the morning steals upon the night,
You brother mine, that entertain’d ambition, Expell'd remorse* and nature; who, with Sebastian (Whose inward pinches are most strong),
Would here have kill'd our king: I do forgive thee,
* Used here in the sense of compassion.
Where the bee sucks, there suck I;
Merrily, merrily, shall I live now,
Orsino, Duke of Illyria, is a suitor for the hand of Olivia, a rich countess. Sebastian and Viola, who are twin brother and sister, have been shipwrecked, but are saved; Viola, however, misses her brother in the wreck, and, believing him to be drowned, dresses herself in male attire, and, assuming the name of Cesario, enters the service of Orsino, of whom she becomes enamoured. Olivia rejects the proffered hand of Orsino, and falls passionately in love with Viola, believing her, from her costume, to be a man. Eventually Sebastian reaches Illyria, and his exact likeness to his twin sister occasions numerous amusing mistakes. In the end Orsino is accepted by Viola as her husband, and Sebastian by Olivia. The play is enlivened by a number of comic incidents, in which Malvolio (Olivia's steward), Sir Toby Belch (her uncle), and Sir Andrew Aguecheek, are the chief actors.
If music be the food of love, play on,
The appetite may sicken and so die,
That strain again; it had a dying fall:
Escape from Shipwreck.
I saw your brother,
Most provident in peril, bind himself
Description of a Beautiful Boy.
Dear lad, believe it ;
For they shall yet belie thy happy years. thou art a man: Diana's lip
Is not more smooth and rubious; thy small pipe
Is, as the maiden's organ, shrill and sound,
Disguise, I see, thou art a wickedness, Wherein the pregnant enemy does much. is it for the proper false*
* Proper is here used to signify handsome.
Come hither, boy; if ever thou shalt love,
The Wife should be Younger than the Husband.
Let still the woman take
An elder than herself; so wears she to him,
Character of an Old Song.
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 innocence of love,
Come away, come away, death,
I am slain by a fair cruel maid.
O, prepare it;
† Simple truth.
My part of death no one so true
Not a flower, not a flower sweet,
On my black coffin let there be strown ;
My poor corpse, where my bones shall be thrown.
Lay me, O, where
Sad true lover ne'er find my grave
Viola, attired as a Page, speaks of her concealed Love for the Duke.
VIOLA. Ay, but I know,—
DUKE. 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 lov'd a man,
As it might be, perhaps, were I a woman,
DUKE. And what's her history?
VIOLA. A blank, my lord: She never told her iove, But let concealment, like a worm i’the bud,
Feed on her damask cheek: she pin'd in thought,