Do use to chant it; it is silly, sooth,

And dallies with the innocence of love,
Like the old age.

Clo. Are you ready, sir?

Duke. Ay; pr'ythee sing.

Clo.

Song.

Come away, come away, death,
And in sad cypress let me be laid;
Fly away, fly away, breath;

I am slain by a fair cruel maid.

[Music.

My shroud of white, stuck all with yew,
O prepare it;

My part of death, no one so true
Did share it.

Not a flower, not a flower sweet,
On my black coffin let there be strewn;
Not a friend, not a friend greet

My poor corpse, where my bones shall be thrown.
A thousand thousand sighs to save,

Lay me, O, 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, sir. Duke. I'll pay thy pleasure then.

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 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.

well.

Duke. Let all the rest give place.

Fare

[Exit Clown.

[Exeunt CURIO and Attendants. Once more, Cesario,

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 bestow'd upon her,
Tell her, I hold as giddily as Fortune;
But 'tis that miracle, and queen of gems,
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,
Hath for your love as great a pang of heart
As you have for Olivia: 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 bear me,
And that I owe Olivia.

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.

My father had a daughter lov'd a man,

As it might be, perhaps, were I a woman,
I should your lordship.

Duke.

And what's her history?

Vio. A blank, my lord. She never told her love;
But let concealment, like a worm i' th' bud,
Feed on her damask cheek: 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,
Our shews are more than will; for still we prove
Much in our vows, but little in our love.

Duke. But di'd 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.

To her in haste; give her this jewel; say
My love can give no place, bide no denay.

[Exeunt.

SCENE V.

OLIVIA'S Garden.

Enter Sir TOBY BELCH, Sir ANDREW AGUE-CHEEK, and FABIAN.

Sir To. Come thy ways, Signior Fabian.

Fabian. Nay, I'll come: if I lose a scruple of this sport, let me be boil'd 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-baiting here.

Sir To. To anger him, we'll have the bear again; and we will fool him black and blue:

not, Sir Andrew ?

shall we

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

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 idiot 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 with tickling. [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?

Sir To. Here's an overweening rogue!

Fab. O, peace! Contemplation makes a rare turkey-cock of him! how he jets under his advanc'd plumes!

Sir And.

Sir To.

'Slight, I could so beat the rogue: Peace, I

Peace, I say.

Mal. To be Count Malvolio ;

Sir To. Ah, rogue!

Mal. There is example for 't; the Lady of the Strachy married the yeoman of the wardrobe.

Sir And. Fie on him, Jezebel !

Fab. O, peace! now he's deeply in; look, how imagination blows him.

Mal. Having been three months married to her, sitting in my state,

Sir To. O, for a stone-bow, to hit him in the eye! Mal. calling my officers about me, in my branch'd velvet gown; having come from a day-bed, where I have left Olivia sleeping :

Sir To. Fire and brimstone !

Fab. O, peace, peace!

Mal. and then to have the humour of state; and after a demure travel of regard, — telling them I know my place, as I would they should do theirs, to ask for my kinsman Toby.

Sir To. Bolts and shackles !

Fab. O, peace, peace, peace! Now, now!

Mal. Seven of my people, with an obedient start, make out for him: I frown the while, and, perchance, wind up my watch, or play with my — some rich jewel. Toby approaches; court'sies there to me:

Fab. Though our silence be drawn from us with cords, yet peace.

Mal. I extend my hand to him thus, quenching my familiar smile with an austere regard of control:

Sir To. And does not Toby take you a blow o' the lips, then?

Mal. Saying, 'Cousin Toby, my fortunes having cast me on your niece, give me this prerogative of speech,'