SCENE III.

_A Hall in_ DUKE ORSINO'S _Palace_.

_Enter_ DUKE, _and_ VIOLA.

_Duke._ 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.-- My life upon't, young though thou art, thine eye Hath stay'd upon some 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 heaven.--Once more, Cesario, Get thee to yon same sovereign cruelty: Tell her, my love, more noble than the world, Prizes not quantity of dirty lands; The parts that fortune hath bestowed 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, sir?

_Duke._ I cannot be so answered.

_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 so: Must she not then be answered?

_Duke._ There is no woman's sides, Can bide the beating of so strong a passion As love doth give my heart:--make no compare Between that love a woman can bear me, And that I owe Olivia.

_Vio._ Ay, but I know,--

_Duke._ What dost thou know?

_Vio._ Too well what love women to men may owe: In faith, they are as true of heart as we. My father had a daughter loved a man, As it might be, perhaps, were I a woman, I should your lordship.

_Duke._ And what's her history?

_Vio._ A blank, my lord: She never told her love, But let concealment, like a worm i' the bud, Feed on her damask cheek: she pined 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?

_Vio._ I am all the daughters of my father's house, And all the brothers too.-- 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._

ACT THE THIRD.