Orsino's lines in Twelfth Night

Duke Orsino. If music be the food of love, play on; Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting, The appetite may sicken, and so die. That strain again! it had a dying fall: O, it came o'er my ear like the sweet sound, That breathes upon a bank of violets, Stealing and giving odour! Enough; no more: 'Tis not so sweet now as it was before.

O spirit of love! how quick and fresh art thou, That, notwithstanding thy capacity Receiveth as the sea, nought enters there, Of what validity and pitch soe'er, But falls into abatement and low price, Even in a minute: so full of shapes is fancy That it alone is high fantastical.

Duke Orsino. What, Curio?

Duke Orsino. Why, so I do, the noblest that I have: O, when mine eyes did see Olivia first, Methought she purged the air of pestilence! That instant was I turn'd into a hart; And my desires, like fell and cruel hounds, E'er since pursue me.

How now! what news from her?

Duke Orsino. O, she that hath a heart of that fine frame To pay this debt of love but a brother, How will she love, when the rich golden shaft Hath kill'd the flock of all affections else That live in her; when liver, brain and heart, These sovereign thrones, are all supplied, and fill'd Her sweet perfections with one self king!

Away before me to sweet beds of flowers: Love-thoughts lie rich when canopied with bowers.

Duke Orsino. Who saw Cesario, ho?

Duke Orsino. Stand you a while aloof, Cesario, Thou know'st no less but all; I have unclasp'd To thee the book even of my secret soul: Therefore, good youth, address thy gait unto her; Be not denied access, stand at her doors, And tell them, there thy fixed foot shall grow Till thou have audience.

Duke Orsino. Be clamorous and leap all civil bounds Rather than make unprofited return.

Duke Orsino. O, then unfold the passion of my love, Surprise her with discourse of my dear faith: It shall become thee well to act my woes; She will attend it better in thy youth Than in a nuncio's of more grave aspect.

Duke Orsino. Dear lad, believe it; For they shall yet belie thy happy years, That say thou art a man: Diana's lip Is not more smooth and rubious; thy small pipe Is as the maiden's organ, shrill and sound, And all is semblative a woman's part.

I know thy constellation is right apt For this affair. Some four or five attend him; All, if you will; for I myself am best When least in company. Prosper well in this, And thou shalt live as freely as thy lord, To call his fortunes thine.

Duke Orsino. Give me some music. Now, good morrow, friends. Now, good Cesario, but that piece of song, That old and antique song we heard last night: Methought it did relieve my passion much, More than light airs and recollected terms Of these most brisk and giddy-paced times: Come, but one verse.

Duke Orsino. Who was it?

Duke Orsino. Seek him out, and play the tune the while.

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. How dost thou like this tune?

Duke Orsino. Thou dost speak masterly: My life upon't, young though thou art, thine eye Hath stay'd upon some favour that it loves: Hath it not, boy?

Duke Orsino. What kind of woman is't?

Duke Orsino. She is not worth thee, then. What years, i' faith?

Duke Orsino. 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.

Duke Orsino. 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 display'd, doth fall that very hour.

Duke Orsino. O, fellow, come, the song we had last night. Mark it, Cesario, it is old and plain; The spinsters and the knitters in the sun And the free maids that weave their thread with bones Do use to chant it: it is silly sooth, And dallies with the innocence of love, Like the old age.

Duke Orsino. Ay; prithee, sing.

Duke Orsino. There's for thy pains.

Duke Orsino. I'll pay thy pleasure then.

Duke Orsino. Give me now leave to leave thee.

Duke Orsino. Let all the rest give place.

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; The parts that fortune hath bestow'd 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.

Duke Orsino. I cannot be so answer'd.

Duke Orsino. 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 call'd 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.

Duke Orsino. What dost thou know?

Duke Orsino. And what's her history?

Duke Orsino. But died thy sister of her love, my boy?

Duke Orsino. Ay, that's the theme. To her in haste; give her this jewel; say, My love can give no place, bide no denay.

Duke Orsino. Belong you to the Lady Olivia, friends?

Duke Orsino. I know thee well; how dost thou, my good fellow?

Duke Orsino. Just the contrary; the better for thy friends.

Duke Orsino. How can that be?

Duke Orsino. Why, this is excellent.

Duke Orsino. Thou shalt not be the worse for me: there's gold.

Duke Orsino. O, you give me ill counsel.

Duke Orsino. Well, I will be so much a sinner, to be a double-dealer: there's another.

Duke Orsino. You can fool no more money out of me at this throw: if you will let your lady know I am here to speak with her, and bring her along with you, it may awake my bounty further.

Duke Orsino. That face of his I do remember well; Yet, when I saw it last, it was besmear'd As black as Vulcan in the smoke of war: A bawbling vessel was he captain of, For shallow draught and bulk unprizable; With which such scathful grapple did he make With the most noble bottom of our fleet, That very envy and the tongue of loss Cried fame and honour on him. What's the matter?

Duke Orsino. Notable pirate! thou salt-water thief! What foolish boldness brought thee to their mercies, Whom thou, in terms so bloody and so dear, Hast made thine enemies?

Duke Orsino. When came he to this town?

Duke Orsino. Here comes the countess: now heaven walks on earth. But for thee, fellow; fellow, thy words are madness: Three months this youth hath tended upon me; But more of that anon. Take him aside.

Duke Orsino. Gracious Olivia,--

Duke Orsino. Still so cruel?

Duke Orsino. What, to perverseness? you uncivil lady, To whose ingrate and unauspicious altars My soul the faithfull'st offerings hath breathed out That e'er devotion tender'd! What shall I do?

Duke Orsino. Why should I not, had I the heart to do it, Like to the Egyptian thief at point of death, Kill what I love?--a savage jealousy That sometimes savours nobly.

But hear me this: Since you to non-regardance cast my faith, And that I partly know the instrument That screws me from my true place in your favour, Live you the marble-breasted tyrant still; But this your minion, whom I know you love, And whom, by heaven I swear, I tender dearly, Him will I tear out of that cruel eye, Where he sits crowned in his master's spite.

Come, boy, with me; my thoughts are ripe in mischief: I'll sacrifice the lamb that I do love, To spite a raven's heart within a dove.

Duke Orsino. Come, away!

Duke Orsino. Husband!

Duke Orsino. Her husband, sirrah!

Duke Orsino. O thou dissembling cub! what wilt thou be When time hath sow'd a grizzle on thy case? Or will not else thy craft so quickly grow, That thine own trip shall be thine overthrow? Farewell, and take her; but direct thy feet Where thou and I henceforth may never meet.

Duke Orsino. My gentleman, Cesario?

Duke Orsino. How now, gentleman! how isn't with you?

Duke Orsino. One face, one voice, one habit, and two persons, A natural perspective, that is and is not!

Duke Orsino. Be not amazed; right noble is his blood. If this be so, as yet the glass seems true, I shall have share in this most happy wreck. (To VIOLA) Boy, thou hast said to me a thousand times Thou never shouldst love woman like to me.

Duke Orsino. Give me thy hand; And let me see thee in thy woman's weeds.

Duke Orsino. This savours not much of distraction.

Duke Orsino. Madam, I am most apt to embrace your offer. (To VIOLA) Your master quits you; and for your service done him, So much against the mettle of your sex, So far beneath your soft and tender breeding, And since you call'd me master for so long, Here is my hand: you shall from this time be Your master's mistress.

Duke Orsino. Is this the madman?

Duke Orsino. Pursue him and entreat him to a peace: He hath not told us of the captain yet: When that is known and golden time convents, A solemn combination shall be made Of our dear souls. Meantime, sweet sister, We will not part from hence. Cesario, come; For so you shall be, while you are a man; But when in other habits you are seen, Orsino's mistress and his fancy's queen.