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kim, love him; and on that vice in him will my-revenge find notable cause to work.

Sir To. What wilt thou do?

Mar. I will drop in his way fome obscure epiftles of love, wherein, by the colour of his beard, the shape of his leg, the manner of his gait, the expressure of his eye, forehead and complexion, he shall find himself most feelingly personated. I can write very like my lady your niece; on a forgotten matter we can hardly make distinction of our hards.

Sir To. Excellent, I smell a device.
Sir And. I have't in my nose too.

Sir To. He shall think by the letters, that thou wilt drop, that they come from my niece, and that she is in love with him.

MAR. My purpose is, indeed, a horse of that colour.
Sir And. And your horse now would make him an ass.
Mar. Ass, I doubt not.
Sir AND, O, 'twill be admirable.

Mar. Sport royal, I warrant you: I know my physick
will work with him. I will plant you two, and let the fool
make a third, where he thall find the letter : observe his
construction of it. For this night to bed, and dream on
the event.

[Exit. Sir To. Good night, Penthifilea. Sir And. Before me, she's a good wench.

Sir To. She's a beagle true-bred, and one that adores me; what o'that?

Sir AND, I was ador'd once too.

Sir To. Let's to bed, knight. --Thou hadît need send for more money:

Sir And. If I cannot recover your niece, I am


way out.

Sir To. Send for money, knight; if thou hast her not i'th'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 some fack, 'tis too late to go to bed now. Come, knight; come, knight.

[Exeunt. SCENE VI. Changes to the palace.

Enter Duke, Viola, Curio, and others. Duke. Give me some musick now. -Good morrow, friendsNow, good Cefario, but that piece of fong, That old and antique song, we heard last night ; Methought, it did relieve my paffion much; More than light airs, and recollected terms Of these most bris and giddy-paced times.

-Come, but one verse,

Cur. He is not here, so please your lordship, that thould fing it.

DUKE. Who was it?

Cur. Fefte, the jefter, my lord, a fool that the lady Olivia's. faiher took much delight in. He is about the house. DUKE. Seek him out, and play the tune the while.

[Ex. Curio. Mufick. 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 ; Unfaid and skittish in all notions 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 leat
Where love is thron'd.

Duke. Thou doft speak masterly. .
My life upon't, young tho' thou art, thine eye
Hath staid upon fome 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 heav'n; let still the woman 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 loft and worn,
Than women's are.

V.10. I think it well, my lord.

Duke. Then let thy love be younger than thyself,
Or thy affection cannot hold the bent :
For women are as roses, whole fair flower,
Being once display'd, doth fall that very hour.

V10. And so they are: alas, that they are so,
To die, even when they to perfection grow!

Enter Curio and Clown.

Dure. O fellow, come. The song we had last night, Mark it, Cesario, it is old and plain ; The spiasters and the knitters in the fun,

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.

Clo. Are you ready, fir,
DUKE. Ay; pr’ythee, sing.



Come away, come away, death,

And in fad cypress let me be laid;
Fly away, fly away, breath,

I am slain by a fair cruel maid.
My shrowd of white, stuck all with yew,

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 strown:
Not a friend, not a friend greet:

My poor corps, where my bones shall be thrown,
A thousand thousand fighs to fave,

Lay me, O! where
True lover never find my grave,

To weep there.
Duke. There's for thy pains.
Clo. No pains, fir; I take pleasure in singing, sir.
DUKE. I'll pay thy pleasure then.

Clo. Truly, sir, and pleasure will be paid one time or other.

Duke. Give me now leave to leave thee.
Clo. Now the melancholy God protect thee, and the tay-

lor make thy doublet of changeable taffata, for thy mind is'i 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. Farewel.



DUKE. Let all the rest give place.
Once more, Cesario,
Get thee to yond fame 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, fir-
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 lo; must the not then be answerd?

Duke. There is no woman's fides
Can abide the beating of so strong a passion,
As love dath give my heart: no woman's heart
So big to hold so much; they lack retention.
Alas, their love may be called appetite :
No motion of the liver, but the palate,
That suffers furfeit, cloyment, and revolt;
But mine is all as hungry as the sea,
And can digelt as much; make no compare

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