Twelfth Night; Or, What You Will

would have men of such constancy put to sea, that their business
might be everything, and their intent everywhere: for that's it
that always makes a good voyage of nothing. Farewell.

    Exit CLOWN
DUKE. Let all the rest give place.

    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.

VIOLA. But if she cannot love you, sir?

DUKE. I cannot be so answer'd.

VIOLA. 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.

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,
I should your lordship.

DUKE. And what's her history?

VIOLA. 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 shows are more than will; for still we prove
Much in our vows, but little in our love.

DUKE. But died thy sister of her love, my boy?

VIOLA. 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, SIR ANDREW, and FABIAN

SIR TOBY. 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 TOBY. Wouldst thou not be glad to have the niggardly rascally
sheep-biter come by some notable shame?

FABIAN. I would exult, man; you know he brought me out o' favour
with my lady about a bear-baiting here.

SIR TOBY. To anger him we'll have the bear again; and we will fool
him black and blue- shall we not, Sir Andrew?

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

Enter MARIA

SIR TOBY. Here comes the little villain.
How now, my metal of India!

MARIA. 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