The Bodleian First Folio

A digital facsimile of the First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Bodleian Arch. G c.7.



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Reference: Y5v - Comedies, p. 262

Left Column


Twelfe Night, or, What you will.

that they come from my Neece, and that shee's in loue

with him.

Mar.

My purpose is indeed a horse of that colour.

An.

And your horse now would make him an Asse.

Mar.
[830]

Asse, I doubt not.

An.

O twill be admirable.

Mar.

Sport royall I warrant you: I know my Phy­

sicke will worke with him, I will plant you two, and let

the Foole make a third, where he shall finde the Letter:

[835]

obserue his construction of it: For this night to bed, and

dreame on the euent: Farewell.

Exit To.

Good night Penthisilea.

An.

Before me she's a good wench.

To.

She's a beagle true bred, and one that adores me:

[840]

what o'that?

An.

I was ador'd once too.

To.

Let's to bed knight: Thou hadst neede send for

more money.

An.

If I cannot recouer your Neece, I am a foule way

[845]

out.

To.

Send for money knight, if thou hast her not i'th

end, call me Cut.

An.

If I do not, neuer trust me, take it how you will.

To.

Come, come, Ile go burne some Sacke, tis too late

[850]

to go to bed now: Come knight, come knight.

Exeunt
Scena Quarta. [Act 2, Scene 4] Enter Duke, Viola, Curio, and others. Du. Giue me some Musick; Now good morow frends. Now good Cesario, but that peece of song, That old and Anticke song we heard last night; Me thought it did releeue my passion much,
[855]
More then light ayres, and recollected termes Of these most briske and giddy‑paced times. Come, but one verse.
Cur.

He is not heere (so please your Lordshippe) that

should sing it?

Du.
[860]

Who was it?

Cur.

Feste the Iester my Lord, a foole that the Ladie

Oliuiaes Father tooke much delight in. He is about the

house.

Du.

Seeke him out, and play the tune the while.

Musicke playes.
[865]
Come hither Boy, if euer thou shalt loue In the sweet pangs of it, remember me: For such as I am, all true Louers are, Vnstaid and skittish in all motions else, Saue in the constant image of the creature
[870]
That is belou'd. How dost thou like this tune?
Vio. It giues a verie eccho to the seate Where loue is thron'd. Du. Thou dost speake masterly, My life vpon't, yong though thou art, thine eye
[875]
Hath staid vpon some fauour that it loues: Hath it not boy?
Vio. A little, by your fauour. Du. What kinde of woman ist? Vio. Of your complection. Du.
[880]
She is not worth thee then. What yeares ifaith?
Vio.

About your yeeres my Lord.

Du. Too old by heauen: Let still the woman take

Image


[full image]

Right Column


An elder then her selfe, so weares she to him; So swayes she leuell in her husbands heart:
[885]
For boy, howeuer we do praise our selues, Our fancies are more giddie and vnfirme, More longing, wauering, sooner lost and worne, Then womens are.
Vio.

I thinke it well my Lord.

Du.
[890]
Then let thy Loue be yonger then thy selfe, Or thy affection cannot hold the bent: For women are as Roses, whose faire flowre Being once displaid, doth fall that verie howre.
Vio. And so they are: alas, that they are so:
[895]
To die, euen when they to perfection grow.
Enter Curio & Clowne. Du. O fellow come, the song we had last night: Marke it Cesario, it is old and plaine; The Spinsters and the Knitters in the Sun, And the free maides that weaue their thred with bones,
[900]
Do vse to chaunt it: it is silly sooth, And dallies with the innocence of loue, Like the old age.
Clo. Are you ready Sir? Duke. I prethee sing. Musicke. The Song.
[905]
Come away, come away death, And in sad cypresse let me be laide. Fye away, fie away breath, I am slaine by a faire cruell maide: My shrowd of white, stuck all with Ew, O prepare it.
[910]
My part of death no one so true did share it. Not a flower, not a flower sweete On my blacke coffin, let there be strewne: Not a friend, not a friend greet My poore corpes, where my bones shall be throwne:
[915]
A thousand thousand sighes to saue, lay me ô where Sad true louer neuer find my graue, to weepe there. Du. There's for thy paines. Clo.

No paines sir, I take pleasure in singing sir.

Du. Ile pay thy pleasure then. Clo.
[920]

Truely sir, and pleasure will be paide one time, or

another.

Du. Giue me now leaue, to leaue thee. Clo.

Now the melancholly God protect thee, and the

Tailor make thy doublet of changeable Taffata, for thy

[925]

minde is a very Opall. I would haue men of such constan­

cie put to Sea, that their businesse might be euery thing,

and their intent euerie where, for that's it, that alwayes

makes a good voyage of nothing. Farewell.

Exit Du. Let all the rest giue place: Once more Cesario,
[930]
Get thee to yond same soueraigne crueltie: Tell her my loue, more noble then the world Prizes not quantitie of dirtie lands, The parts that fortune hath bestow'd vpon her: Tell her I hold as giddily as Fortune:
[935]
But 'tis that miracle, and Queene of Iems That nature prankes her in, attracts my soule.
Vio.

But if she cannot loue you sir.

Du.

It cannot be so answer'd.

Vio. Sooth but you must.
[940]
Say that some Lady, as perhappes there is, Hath for your loue as great a pang of heart As you haue for Oliuia: you cannot loue her: You tel her so: Must she not then be answer'd?
Du. There is no womans sides Can

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Scena Quarta. [Act 2, Scene 4] Enter Duke, Viola, Curio, and others. Du. Giue me some Musick; Now good morow frends. Now good Cesario, but that peece of song, That old and Anticke song we heard last night; Me thought it did releeue my passion much,
[855]
More then light ayres, and recollected termes Of these most briske and giddy‑paced times. Come, but one verse.
Cur.

He is not heere (so please your Lordshippe) that

should sing it?

Du.
[860]

Who was it?

Cur.

Feste the Iester my Lord, a foole that the Ladie

Oliuiaes Father tooke much delight in. He is about the

house.

Du.

Seeke him out, and play the tune the while.

Musicke playes.
[865]
Come hither Boy, if euer thou shalt loue In the sweet pangs of it, remember me: For such as I am, all true Louers are, Vnstaid and skittish in all motions else, Saue in the constant image of the creature
[870]
That is belou'd. How dost thou like this tune?
Vio. It giues a verie eccho to the seate Where loue is thron'd. Du. Thou dost speake masterly, My life vpon't, yong though thou art, thine eye
[875]
Hath staid vpon some fauour that it loues: Hath it not boy?
Vio. A little, by your fauour. Du. What kinde of woman ist? Vio. Of your complection. Du.
[880]
She is not worth thee then. What yeares ifaith?
Vio.

About your yeeres my Lord.

Du. Too old by heauen: Let still the woman take An elder then her selfe, so weares she to him; So swayes she leuell in her husbands heart:
[885]
For boy, howeuer we do praise our selues, Our fancies are more giddie and vnfirme, More longing, wauering, sooner lost and worne, Then womens are.
Vio.

I thinke it well my Lord.

Du.
[890]
Then let thy Loue be yonger then thy selfe, Or thy affection cannot hold the bent: For women are as Roses, whose faire flowre Being once displaid, doth fall that verie howre.
Vio. And so they are: alas, that they are so:
[895]
To die, euen when they to perfection grow.
Enter Curio & Clowne. Du. O fellow come, the song we had last night: Marke it Cesario, it is old and plaine; The Spinsters and the Knitters in the Sun, And the free maides that weaue their thred with bones,
[900]
Do vse to chaunt it: it is silly sooth, And dallies with the innocence of loue, Like the old age.
Clo. Are you ready Sir? Duke. I prethee sing. Musicke. The Song.
[905]
Come away, come away death, And in sad cypresse let me be laide. Fye away, fie away breath, I am slaine by a faire cruell maide: My shrowd of white, stuck all with Ew, O prepare it.
[910]
My part of death no one so true did share it. Not a flower, not a flower sweete On my blacke coffin, let there be strewne: Not a friend, not a friend greet My poore corpes, where my bones shall be throwne:
[915]
A thousand thousand sighes to saue, lay me ô where Sad true louer neuer find my graue, to weepe there. Du. There's for thy paines. Clo.

No paines sir, I take pleasure in singing sir.

Du. Ile pay thy pleasure then. Clo.
[920]

Truely sir, and pleasure will be paide one time, or

another.

Du. Giue me now leaue, to leaue thee. Clo.

Now the melancholly God protect thee, and the

Tailor make thy doublet of changeable Taffata, for thy

[925]

minde is a very Opall. I would haue men of such constan­

cie put to Sea, that their businesse might be euery thing,

and their intent euerie where, for that's it, that alwayes

makes a good voyage of nothing. Farewell.

Exit Du. Let all the rest giue place: Once more Cesario,
[930]
Get thee to yond same soueraigne crueltie: Tell her my loue, more noble then the world Prizes not quantitie of dirtie lands, The parts that fortune hath bestow'd vpon her: Tell her I hold as giddily as Fortune:
[935]
But 'tis that miracle, and Queene of Iems That nature prankes her in, attracts my soule.
Vio.

But if she cannot loue you sir.

Du.

It cannot be so answer'd.

Vio. Sooth but you must.
[940]
Say that some Lady, as perhappes there is, Hath for your loue as great a pang of heart As you haue for Oliuia: you cannot loue her: You tel her so: Must she not then be answer'd?
Du. There is no womans sides
[945]
Can bide the beating of so strong a pass sion, As loue doth giue my heart: no womans heart So bigge, to hold so much, they lacke retention. Alas, their loue may be call'd appetite, No motion of the Liuer, but the Pallat,
[950]
That suffer surfet, cloyment, and reuolt, An ink mark follows the end of this line. But mine is all as hungry as the Sea, And can digest as much, make no compare Betweene that loue a woman can beare me, And that I owe Oliuia.
Vio.
[955]
I but I know.
Du. What dost thou knowe? Vio. Too well what loue women to men may owe: In faith they are as true of heart, as we. My Father had a daughter lou'd a man
[960]
As it might be perhaps, were I a woman I should your Lordship.
Du. And what's her history? Vio. A blanke my Lord: she neuer told her loue, But let concealment like a worme i'th budde
[965]
Feede on her damaske cheeke: she pin'd in thought, And with a greene and yellow melancholly, She sate like Patience on a Monument, Smiling at greefe. Was not this loue indeede? We men may say more, sweare more, but indeed
[970]
Our shewes are more then will: for still we proue Much in our vowes, but little in our loue.
Du. But di'de thy sister of her loue my Boy? Vio. I am all the daughters of my Fathers house, And all the brothers too: and yet I know not.
[975]
Sir, shall I to this Lady?
Du. I that's the Theame, To her in haste: giue her this Iewell: say, My loue can giue no place, bide no denay. exeunt.
 

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<?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-8"?>
<div type="scene" n="4">
   <head rend="italic center">Scena Quarta.</head>
   <head type="supplied">[Act 2, Scene 4]</head>
   <stage rend="italic center" type="entrance">Enter Duke, Viola, Curio, and others.</stage>
   <sp who="#F-tn-duk">
      <speaker rend="italic">Du.</speaker>
      <l n="851">Giue me some Musick; Now good morow frends.</l>
      <l n="852">Now good<hi rend="italic">Cesario</hi>, but that peece of song,</l>
      <l n="853">That old and Anticke song we heard last night;</l>
      <l n="854">Me thought it did releeue my passion much,</l>
      <l n="855">More then light ayres, and recollected termes</l>
      <l n="856">Of these most briske and giddy‑paced times.</l>
      <l n="857">Come, but one verse.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-tn-cur">
      <speaker rend="italic">Cur.</speaker>
      <p n="858">He is not heere (so please your Lordshippe) that
      <lb n="859"/>should sing it?</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-tn-duk">
      <speaker rend="italic">Du.</speaker>
      <p n="860">Who was it?</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-tn-cur">
      <speaker rend="italic">Cur.</speaker>
      <p n="861">
         <hi rend="italic">Feste</hi>the Iester my Lord, a foole that the Ladie
      <lb n="862"/>
         <hi rend="italic">Oliuiaes</hi>Father tooke much delight in. He is about the
      <lb n="863"/>house.</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-tn-duk">
      <speaker rend="italic">Du.</speaker>
      <p n="864">Seeke him out, and play the tune the while.</p>
      <stage rend="italic rightJustified" type="business">Musicke playes.</stage>
      <l n="865">Come hither Boy, if euer thou shalt loue</l>
      <l n="866">In the sweet pangs of it, remember me:</l>
      <l n="867">For such as I am, all true Louers are,</l>
      <l n="868">Vnstaid and skittish in all motions else,</l>
      <l n="869">Saue in the constant image of the creature</l>
      <l n="870">That is belou'd. How dost thou like this tune?</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-tn-vio">
      <speaker rend="italic">Vio.</speaker>
      <l n="871">It giues a verie eccho to the seate</l>
      <l n="872">Where loue is thron'd.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-tn-duk">
      <speaker rend="italic">Du.</speaker>
      <l n="873">Thou dost speake masterly,</l>
      <l n="874">My life vpon't, yong though thou art, thine eye</l>
      <l n="875">Hath staid vpon some fauour that it loues:</l>
      <l n="876">Hath it not boy?</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-tn-vio">
      <speaker rend="italic">Vio.</speaker>
      <l n="877">A little, by your fauour.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-tn-duk">
      <speaker rend="italic">Du.</speaker>
      <l n="878">What kinde of woman ist?</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-tn-vio">
      <speaker rend="italic">Vio.</speaker>
      <l n="879">Of your complection.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-tn-duk">
      <speaker rend="italic">Du.</speaker>
      <l n="880">She is not worth thee then. What yeares ifaith?</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-tn-vio">
      <speaker rend="italic">Vio.</speaker>
      <p n="881">About your yeeres my Lord.</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-tn-duk">
      <speaker rend="italic">Du.</speaker>
      <l n="882">Too old by heauen: Let still the woman take</l>
      <cb n="2"/>
      <l n="883">An elder then her selfe, so weares she to him;</l>
      <l n="884">So swayes she leuell in her husbands heart:</l>
      <l n="885">For boy, howeuer we do praise our selues,</l>
      <l n="886">Our fancies are more giddie and vnfirme,</l>
      <l n="887">More longing, wauering, sooner lost and worne,</l>
      <l n="888">Then womens are.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-tn-vio">
      <speaker rend="italic">Vio.</speaker>
      <p n="889">I thinke it well my Lord.</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-tn-duk">
      <speaker rend="italic">Du.</speaker>
      <l n="890">Then let thy Loue be yonger then thy selfe,</l>
      <l n="891">Or thy affection cannot hold the bent:</l>
      <l n="892">For women are as Roses, whose faire flowre</l>
      <l n="893">Being once displaid, doth fall that verie howre.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-tn-vio">
      <speaker rend="italic">Vio.</speaker>
      <l n="894">And so they are: alas, that they are so:</l>
      <l n="895">To die, euen when they to perfection grow.</l>
   </sp>
   <stage rend="italic center" type="entrance">Enter Curio &amp; Clowne.</stage>
   <sp who="#F-tn-duk">
      <speaker rend="italic">Du.</speaker>
      <l n="896">O fellow come, the song we had last night:</l>
      <l n="897">Marke it Cesario, it is old and plaine;</l>
      <l n="898">The Spinsters and the Knitters in the Sun,</l>
      <l n="899">And the free maides that weaue their thred with bones,</l>
      <l n="900">Do vse to chaunt it: it is silly sooth,</l>
      <l n="901">And dallies with the innocence of loue,</l>
      <l n="902">Like the old age.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-tn-fes">
      <speaker rend="italic">Clo.</speaker>
      <l n="903">Are you ready Sir?</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-tn-duk">
      <speaker rend="italic">Duke.</speaker>
      <l n="904">I prethee sing.</l>
   </sp>
   <stage rend="italic rightJustified" type="business">Musicke.</stage>
   <stage rend="italic center" type="business">The Song.</stage>
   <l rend="italic" n="905">Come away, come away death,</l>
   <l rend="italic" n="906">And in sad cypresse let me be laide.</l>
   <l rend="italic" n="907">Fye away, fie away breath,</l>
   <l rend="italic" n="908">I am slaine by a faire cruell maide:</l>
   <l rend="italic" n="909">My shrowd of white, stuck all with Ew, O prepare it.</l>
   <l rend="italic" n="910">My part of death no one so true did share it.</l>
   <l rend="italic" n="911">Not a flower, not a flower sweete</l>
   <l rend="italic" n="912">On my blacke coffin, let there be strewne:</l>
   <l rend="italic" n="913">Not a friend, not a friend greet</l>
   <l rend="italic" n="914">My poore corpes, where my bones shall be throwne:</l>
   <l rend="italic" n="915">A thousand thousand sighes to saue, lay me ô where</l>
   <l rend="italic" n="916">Sad true louer neuer find my graue, to weepe there.</l>
   <sp who="#F-tn-duk">
      <speaker rend="italic">Du.</speaker>
      <l n="917">There's for thy paines.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-tn-fes">
      <speaker rend="italic">Clo.</speaker>
      <p n="918">No paines sir, I take pleasure in singing sir.</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-tn-duk">
      <speaker rend="italic">Du.</speaker>
      <l n="919">Ile pay thy pleasure then.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-tn-fes">
      <speaker rend="italic">Clo.</speaker>
      <p n="920">Truely sir, and pleasure will be paide one time, or
      <lb n="921"/>another.</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-tn-duk">
      <speaker rend="italic">Du.</speaker>
      <l n="922">Giue me now leaue, to leaue thee.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-tn-fes">
      <speaker rend="italic">Clo.</speaker>
      <p n="923">Now the melancholly God protect thee, and the
      <lb n="924"/>Tailor make thy doublet of changeable Taffata, for thy
      <lb n="925"/>minde is a very Opall. I would haue men of such constan­
      <lb n="926"/>cie put to Sea, that their businesse might be euery thing,
      <lb n="927"/>and their intent euerie where, for that's it, that alwayes
      <lb n="928"/>makes a good voyage of nothing. Farewell.</p>
   </sp>
   <stage rend="italic rightJustified" type="exit">Exit</stage>
   <sp who="#F-tn-duk">
      <speaker rend="italic">Du.</speaker>
      <l n="929">Let all the rest giue place: Once more<hi rend="italic">Cesario</hi>,</l>
      <l n="930">Get thee to yond same soueraigne crueltie:</l>
      <l n="931">Tell her my loue, more noble then the world</l>
      <l n="932">Prizes not quantitie of dirtie lands,</l>
      <l n="933">The parts that fortune hath bestow'd vpon her:</l>
      <l n="934">Tell her I hold as giddily as Fortune:</l>
      <l n="935">But 'tis that miracle, and Queene of Iems</l>
      <l n="936">That nature prankes her in, attracts my soule.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-tn-vio">
      <speaker rend="italic">Vio.</speaker>
      <p n="937">But if she cannot loue you sir.</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-tn-duk">
      <speaker rend="italic">Du.</speaker>
      <p n="938">It cannot be so answer'd.</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-tn-vio">
      <speaker rend="italic">Vio.</speaker>
      <l n="939">Sooth but you must.</l>
      <l n="940">Say that some Lady, as perhappes there is,</l>
      <l n="941">Hath for your loue as great a pang of heart</l>
      <l n="942">As you haue for<hi rend="italic">Oliuia</hi>: you cannot loue her:</l>
      <l n="943">You tel her so: Must she not then be answer'd?</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-tn-duk">
      <speaker rend="italic">Du.</speaker>
      <l n="944">There is no womans sides</l>
      <pb facs="FFimg:axc0283-0.jpg" n="263"/>
      <cb n="1"/>
      <l n="945">Can bide the beating of so strong a pass sion,</l>
      <l n="946">As loue doth giue my heart: no womans heart</l>
      <l n="947">So bigge, to hold so much, they lacke retention.</l>
      <l n="948">Alas, their loue may be call'd appetite,</l>
      <l n="949">No motion of the Liuer, but the Pallat,</l>
      <l n="950">That suffer surfet, cloyment, and reuolt,<note type="physical" resp="#ES">An ink mark follows the end of this line.</note>
      </l>
      <l n="951">But mine is all as hungry as the Sea,</l>
      <l n="952">And can digest as much, make no compare</l>
      <l n="953">Betweene that loue a woman can beare me,</l>
      <l n="954">And that I owe<hi rend="italic">Oliuia</hi>.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-tn-vio">
      <speaker rend="italic">Vio.</speaker>
      <l n="955">I but I know.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-tn-duk">
      <speaker rend="italic">Du.</speaker>
      <l n="956">What dost thou knowe?</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-tn-vio">
      <speaker rend="italic">Vio.</speaker>
      <l n="957">Too well what loue women to men may owe:</l>
      <l n="958">In faith they are as true of heart, as we.</l>
      <l n="959">My Father had a daughter lou'd a man</l>
      <l n="960">As it might be perhaps, were I a woman</l>
      <l n="961">I should your Lordship.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-tn-duk">
      <speaker rend="italic">Du.</speaker>
      <l n="962">And what's her history?</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-tn-vio">
      <speaker rend="italic">Vio.</speaker>
      <l n="963">A blanke my Lord: she neuer told her loue,</l>
      <l n="964">But let concealment like a worme i'th budde</l>
      <l n="965">Feede on her damaske cheeke: she pin'd in thought,</l>
      <l n="966">And with a greene and yellow melancholly,</l>
      <l n="967">She sate like Patience on a Monument,</l>
      <l n="968">Smiling at greefe. Was not this loue indeede?</l>
      <l n="969">We men may say more, sweare more, but indeed</l>
      <l n="970">Our shewes are more then will: for still we proue</l>
      <l n="971">Much in our vowes, but little in our loue.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-tn-duk">
      <speaker rend="italic">Du.</speaker>
      <l n="972">But di'de thy sister of her loue my Boy?</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-tn-vio">
      <speaker rend="italic">Vio.</speaker>
      <l n="973">I am all the daughters of my Fathers house,</l>
      <l n="974">And all the brothers too: and yet I know not.</l>
      <l n="975">Sir, shall I to this Lady?</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-tn-duk">
      <speaker rend="italic">Du.</speaker>
      <l n="976">I that's the Theame,</l>
      <l n="977">To her in haste: giue her this Iewell: say,</l>
      <l n="978">My loue can giue no place, bide no denay.</l>
   </sp>
   <stage rend="italic rightJustified" type="exit">exeunt.</stage>
</div>

        
        

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