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Come hither, boy; If ever thou shalt love,
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 belov'd. How dost thou like this tune?

Vio. It gives a very echo to the seat
Where Love is thron'd.
: Duke. Thou dost speak masterly:
My life upon't, young though thou art, thine eye
Hath stay'd upon some favour that it loves ;
Hath it not, boy?

Vio. A little, by your favour,
Duke. What kind of woman is't ?
Vio. Of your complexion.
Duke. She is not worth thee then. What


years, i'faith?

Vio. About your years, my

lord. Duke. Too old, by heaven; Let still the wo

man 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,
Our fancies are more giddy and unfirm,
More longing, wavering, sooner lost and worn,
Than women's are.

Vio. I think it well, my lord.
Duke. Then let thy love be younger than

Or thy affection cannot hold the bent :
For women are as roses; whose fair flower,
Being once display'd, doth fall that very hour.

Vio. And so they are: alas, that they are so; To die, even when they to perfection grow! **

Re-enter CURIO, and Clown.
Duke. O fellow, come, the song we had last
Mark it, Cesario; it is old, and plain:
The spiasters and the knitters in the sun,
And the free maids that weave their thread

with bones,
Do use to chaunt it; it is silly sooth,
And dallies with the innocence of love,
Like the old age.

Clown. Are you ready, sir?
Duke. Ay; prythee, sing.


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S O N G.

Clown. Come away, come aŭay, 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,

0, prepare it;
My part of death no one so true

Did share it.

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Not a flower, not a flower sweet,
black coffin

let there be strown;
Not a friend, not a friend greet
My poor corpse, where my bones shall be

A thousand thousand sighs to save,

Lay me, 0, where
Sad true-lover ne'er find my grave,

To weep.there.
Duke. There's for thy pains.

Clown, No pains, sir; I take pleasure in sing. ing, sir. Duke. I'll pay thy pleasure then.

Clown. Truly, sir, and pleasure will be paid, one time or another.

Duke. Give me now leave to leave thee.

of gems,

Clown. Now, the melancholy god protect thee; and the tailorm ake thy doublet of changeable taffata, for. 'thy, mind is a very opal! I would have men of such : constancy put to sea, that their business "might be every thing, and their intent every where; for that's it, that always makes a good voyage of nothing. Farewell...

[Exit Clown.] Duke. Let all the rest give place.

Once more, Cesario, [Exeunt Curio

and Attendants.]
Get thee to yon 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;
But 'tis that miracle, and queen
That nature pranks her in, attracts my soul.

Vio. But, if she cannot love you, sir?
Duke. I cannot be so answer'd.

Vio. 'Sooth, but you must.
Say, that some lady, as, perhaps, there is,
As you have for eat a pang of heart

as a

you cannot love her ; You tell her' so'; Must she not then be answer'd ?

Duke. There is no woman's sides,
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,
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 hear me,
And that I owe. Olivia.

Vio. Ay, but I know,
Duke, What dost thou know?


Vioq Too well what love wonien. to men

may owe: S mods In faith, they are as true of heart as we. My father had a daughter lov'd a man, I As it might be, perhaps, were I a woman, I should your lordship

Duke: And what's her history ? ...16 í Vio. A blank, my lord: She never told her

love, But let concealment, like a worm i'the bud, Féed on her damask check: she pin'd 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,

guir Our shows are more than will; for still we

- prove Much in our vows, but little in our love. Duhe. But dy'd thy sister of her love, my

i *boy? Vio. I am all the daughters of my father's '

honse, And all the brothers too; and yet I know

Sir, shall I to this lady?

Duke.Ay, that's the theme.
To her in haste; give her this jewel; say,
My love can give no place, bide no denay.


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Olivia's Garden.

Sir To. Come thy ways, signior Fabian.

Fab. Nay, I'll come; if I lose a scruple of this sport, let' me boild to death with melancholy

Sir To. Would'st 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 of favour with my lady, about a bear - baiting here.

Sir To. To anger him, we'll have the bear again; and we will fool him black and blue; Shall we not;, sir Andrew ?

Sir And., An we do not, it is pity of our lives.

.: ingen

L' Enter MARIA: Sir. To. Here comes the little villain :--How now, my metal of India ?

Mar. Get ye all three into the box-tree : Malvolio's coming down this walk; he has been yonder i'the sun, practising behaviour to his own shadow, this half hour: observe him, for the love of mockery; for, I know, this letter will make a contemplative ideot of him. Close, in the name of jesting! [The men hide themselves.] Lie thou there; [throws down a letter.] for here comes the trout that must be caught witht ickling.

[Exit •MARIA.] Enter MALVOLIO.

Mal. 'Tis but fortune ; all is fortune. Maria once told me, she did affect me; and I have heard herself come thus near, that, should she fancy, it should be one of my complexion. Besides, she uses me with a more exalted respect, than any one else that follows her. What should I think on't ?

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