By Wm. Shakespeare |
Submitted by Echolocation
Date: 2002 Mar 14
Comment on this Work
Orsino, Duke of Illyria, in love with Olivia,
who wants nothing to do with him
Viola, a maid disguised as manservant to the Duke,
and in love with him
Ors.: 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 called 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.
Vio.: Ay, but I know, --
Ors.: 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.
Ors.: 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 this not 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 out love.