Act 2, Scene IV

SCENE IV. DUKE ORSINO's palace.

Enter DUKE ORSINO, VIOLA, CURIO, and others
DUKE ORSINO
Give me some music. Now, good morrow, friends.
Now, good Cesario, but that piece of song,
That old and antique song we heard last night:
Methought it did relieve my passion much,
More than light airs and recollected terms
Of these most brisk and giddy-paced times:
Come, but one verse.

CURIO
He is not here, so please your lordship that should sing it.

DUKE ORSINO
Who was it?

CURIO
Feste, the jester, my lord; a fool that the lady
Olivia's father took much delight in. He is about the house.

DUKE ORSINO
Seek him out, and play the tune the while.

Exit CURIO. Music plays

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 beloved. How dost thou like this tune?

VIOLA
It gives a very echo to the seat
Where Love is throned.

DUKE ORSINO
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?

VIOLA
A little, by your favour.

DUKE ORSINO
What kind of woman is't?

VIOLA
Of your complexion.

DUKE ORSINO
She is not worth thee, then. What years, i' faith?

VIOLA
About your years, my lord.

DUKE ORSINO
Too old by heaven: 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 lost and worn,
Than women's are.

VIOLA
I think it well, my lord.

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

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

Re-enter CURIO and Clown

DUKE ORSINO
O, fellow, come, the song we had last night.
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,
Like the old age.

Clown
Are you ready, sir?

DUKE ORSINO
Ay; prithee, sing.

Music

SONG.

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