Twelfe Night, Or what you will
Page: 19

To. She's a beagle true bred, and one that adores me:
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
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
to go to bed now: Come knight, come knight.

Exeunt.

Scena Quarta.

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,
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. 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.

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
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
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. 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:
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