Pedersen

Pedersen
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  • Act II, Scene iv
  • Duke Orsino
  • Let me hear some music, Curio my boy
  • Curio
  • Parlor of the Duke Orsino
  • Musician
  • Cesario /Viola
  • Curio leaves to receive Feste so that gent can sing a depress'd song to the Duke Orsino
  • 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. (II.iv.14-19)
  • 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. 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 displayed, doth fall that very hour. (II.iv.28-36)
  • I'm sure, from the way you speak, that you'v fallen in love with one, haven't you boy?
  • Yes, she has your complexion, with close to your years
  • Feste, the Fool
  • Come away, come away, death, And in sad cypress let me be laid. Fly away, fly away breath, I am slain by a fair cruel maid. My shroud of white, stuck all with yew, O, prepare it! My part of death, no one so true, Did share it. Not a flower, not a flower sweet, On my black coffin let there be strown. Not a friend, not a friend greet, My poor corpse, where my bones shall be thrown. A thousand thousand sighs to save, Lay me, O, where Sad, true lover never find my grave, To weep there! (II.iv.50-61)
  • O, fellow, come, the song we had last night.— It is silly sooth, And dallies with the innocence of love, Like the old age. (II.iv.42-46)
  • Enter Feste and Curio
  • There is no woman’s sides can bide the beating of so strong a passion love doth give my heart. So big, to hold so much. They lack retention. But mine is all as hungry as the sea, Make no compare between that love a woman can bear me and that I owe Olivia. (II.iv.91-101)
  • 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; (II.iv.78-80)
  • Feste, Curio and Musician leave
  • But if she cannot love you, sir? Say that some lady, as perhaps there is, hath for your love a great a pang of heart as you have for Olivia. You cannot love her. (II.iv.85-89)
  • Women owe love to men equally. In faith, they are as true of heart as we. My father had a daughter loved a man. But she never told her love, and 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, but indeed our words are more than will, for still we show much in our vows, but little in our love. (II.iv.103-116)
  • Ay, that’s the theme. To her in haste. Give her this jewel. Say my love can give no place, bide no denay.   (II.iv.121-123)
  • Sir, shall I to this lady?   (II.iv.120)
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