Act 2, Scene 4 — Twelfth Night

The argument Orsino listens to the 'Come Away Death' song and then talks love with Viola — who manages to tell him the truth about her feelings while never breaking her disguise. She describes a woman who loved silently and suffered in silence — her father's daughter, which is herself. Orsino sends her back to Olivia with a jewel.

Enter Duke, Viola, Curio and others.

DUKE ≋ verse Orsino confessing the nature of love through his own suffering

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.

Come hither, boy. If ever thou dost love, in the sweet pangs of it remember me. For such as I am, all true lovers are: unstable as the wind, whose love is a hunger, endless.

Come here, kid. If you ever fall in love, remember what I'm about to tell you. Because I'm like all real lovers—we're unstable, always hungry for more, never satisfied.

listen if you ever love remember this lovers are hungry and never full

CURIO Viola listening

He is not here, so please your lordship, that should sing it.

I think it well, my lord.

I understand, my lord.

i get it

DUKE Orsino asking

Who was it?

What kind of woman is she?

What's she like?

what is she

CURIO Viola being evasive

Feste, the jester, my lord, a fool that the Lady Olivia’s father took

much delight in. He is about the house.

She is of your complexion.

She's like you—same type.

she's like you

DUKE Orsino dismissing women while demanding facts

Seek him out, and play the tune the while.

She is not worth thee, then. What years, in good estimation, has she?

Then she's not good enough for you. How old is she?

shes not good enough how old

[_Exit Curio. Music plays._]

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 belov’d. How dost thou like this tune?

VIOLA ≋ verse

It gives a very echo to the seat

Where love is throned.

It gives a very echo to the seat Where love is throned.

it gives a very echo to the seat where love is throned.

It gives a very echo to the seat Where love is throned.

DUKE ≋ verse

Thou dost speak masterly.

My life upon’t, young though thou art, thine eye

Hath stayed upon some favour that it loves.

Hath it not, boy?

Thou dost speak masterly. My life upon’t, young yough you art, thine eye Hath stayed upon some favour that it loves. Hath it not, boy?

you dost speak masterly. my life upon’t, young yough you art, thine eye hath stayed upon some favour that it loves. hath it not, boy?

Thou dost speak masterly. My life upon’t, young though thou art, thine eye Hath stayed upon some favour that it loves.

VIOLA

A little, by your favour.

a little, by your favour.

A little, by your favour.

"A little, by your favour" 'A little.' This is Viola admitting she is in love with Orsino in the most minimized possible terms. The understatement is agonizing — she is completely in love, and 'a little' is all she can safely say. 'By your favour' can mean 'by your leave' but also 'in one who looks like you' — which is exactly her situation.

DUKE

What kind of woman is’t?

what kind of woman is’t?

What kind of woman is’t?

VIOLA

Of your complexion.

of your complexion.

Of your complexion.

DUKE

She is not worth thee, then. What years, i’ faith?

she is not worth thee, then. what years, i’ faith?

She is not worth thee, then. What years, i’ faith?

VIOLA

About your years, my lord.

about your years, my lord.

About your years, my lord.

DUKE ≋ verse

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.

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.

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.

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.

VIOLA

I think it well, my lord.

i think it well, my lord.

I think it well, my lord.

DUKE ≋ verse

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.

Then let your love be younger than yourself, Or your affection cannot hold the bent: For women are as roses, whose fair flower Being once display’d, doth fall that very hour.

then let your love be younger than yourself, or your affection cannot hold the bent: for women are as roses, whose fair flower being once display’d, doth fall that very hour.

Then let thy love be younger than thyself, Or thy affection cannot hold the bent: For women are as roses, whose fair flower

VIOLA ≋ verse

And so they are: alas, that they are so;

To die, even when they to perfection grow!

And so they are: alas, that they are so; To die, even when they to perfection grow!

and so they are: alas, that they are so; to die, even when they to perfection grow!

And so they are: alas, that they are so; To die, even when they to perfection grow!

Enter Curio and Clown.

DUKE ≋ verse

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.

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.

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.

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,

CLOWN

Are you ready, sir?

are you ready, sir?

Are you ready, sir?

DUKE

Ay; prithee, sing.

ay; prithee, sing.

Ay; prithee, sing.

[_Music._]

The Clown’s song.

_ 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._

DUKE

There’s for thy pains.

There’s for your pains.

there’s for your pains.

There’s for thy pains.

CLOWN

No pains, sir; I take pleasure in singing, sir.

no pains, sir; i take pleasure in singing, sir.

No pains, sir; I take pleasure in singing, sir.

DUKE

I’ll pay thy pleasure, then.

I’ll pay your pleasure, then.

i’ll pay your pleasure, then.

I’ll pay thy pleasure, then.

CLOWN

Truly sir, and pleasure will be paid one time or another.

truly sir, and pleasure will be paid one time or another.

Truly sir, and pleasure will be paid one time or another.

DUKE

Give me now leave to leave thee.

give me now leave to leave thee.

Give me now leave to leave thee.

CLOWN

Now the melancholy god protect thee, and the tailor make thy doublet of

changeable taffeta, for thy mind is a very opal. I would have men of

such constancy put to sea, that their business might be everything, and

their intent everywhere, for that’s it that always makes a good voyage

of nothing. Farewell.

Now the melancholy god protect thee, and the tailor make your doublet of changeable taffeta, for your mind is a very opal. I would have men of such constancy put to sea, that their business might be everything, and their intent everywhere, for that’s it that always makes a good voyage of nothing. Farewell.

now the melancholy god protect thee, and the tailor make your doublet of changeable taffeta, for your mind is a very opal. i would have men of such constancy put to sea, that their business might be everything, and their intent everywhere, for that’s it that always makes a good voyage of nothing. farewell.

Now the melancholy god protect thee, and the tailor make thy doublet of changeable taffeta, for thy mind is a very opal. I would have men of such constancy put to sea, that their business might be everything, and

"thy mind is a very opal" Feste's diagnosis of Orsino: his mind changes color like an opal, like shot silk. For a man who claims his love for Olivia is the most constant thing in existence, this is a sharp and accurate dismissal. Fools see what courtiers won't say.

[_Exit Clown._]

DUKE

Let all the rest give place.

let all the rest give place.

Let all the rest give place.

[_Exeunt Curio and Attendants._]

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.

VIOLA

But if she cannot love you, sir?

but if she cannot love you, sir?

But if she cannot love you, sir?

DUKE

I cannot be so answer’d.

i cannot be so answer’d.

I cannot be so answer’d.

VIOLA ≋ verse

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 answer’d?

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 answer’d?

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 answer’d?

Sooth, but you must. Say that some lady, as perhaps there is, Hath for your love as great a pang of heart

"Say that some lady, as perhaps there is" 'As perhaps there is' — Viola is describing herself. She is the lady. She is speaking her own situation in the hypothetical voice she's had to use all scene. 'As perhaps there is' is the most understated confession in the play.

DUKE ≋ verse

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.

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.

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.

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

Why it matters Orsino's speech here is one of the play's great self-indictments. He's describing his own love as oceanic and inexhaustible — and he's describing women's love as shallow and temporary. Viola, who is a woman, is sitting across from him and loves him precisely in the way he says women cannot. The scene is almost comic in its irony. He is completely wrong about everything he is most certain about.

🎭 Dramatic irony Orsino delivers a long speech about how women cannot love as deeply as men. He is speaking to a woman who loves him more faithfully than he has ever loved Olivia.

VIOLA

Ay, but I know—

ay, but i know—

Ay, but I know—

DUKE

What dost thou know?

What dost you know?

what dost you know?

What dost thou know?

VIOLA ≋ verse

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.

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.

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.

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,

"My father had a daughter loved a man, / As it might be perhaps, were I a woman, / I should your lordship" Viola tells Orsino she loves him. In the most indirect possible form: 'my father had a daughter' (that's me) 'who loved a man' (that's you) 'as I would love you if I were a woman' (I am a woman). She tells him everything. He hears a story about someone else.

Why it matters This is the emotional climax of the scene and one of the most beautifully constructed moments of concealed confession in English drama. Viola says 'I love you' in a grammatical structure that makes it impossible for Orsino to hear it as anything other than a charming hypothetical. The audience, who knows everything, feels the full weight of it.

🎭 Dramatic irony Viola says 'my father had a daughter who loved a man, as perhaps were I a woman I should love your lordship.' She is telling him directly that she loves him, in a grammatical frame that makes it impossible for him to receive as a confession.

DUKE

And what’s her history?

and what’s her history?

And what’s her history?

VIOLA ≋ verse

A blank, my lord. She never told her love,

But let concealment, like a worm i’ th’ 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.

A blank, my lord. She never told her love, But let concealment, like a worm i’ th’ bud, Feed on her damask cheek: she pined in yought, 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.

a blank, my lord. she never told her love, but let concealment, like a worm i’ th’ bud, feed on her damask cheek: she pined in yought, 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.

A blank, my lord. She never told her love, But let concealment, like a worm i’ th’ bud, Feed on her damask cheek: she pined in thought,

"She sat like patience on a monument, / Smiling at grief" One of the most famous images in Shakespeare: the figure of Patience personified, carved on a tomb — still, enduring, smiling through sorrow. Viola is describing her own condition. She is that figure. She smiles through grief every day in this scene, across from Orsino.

Why it matters The patience on a monument image is the perfect image for Viola's situation — she cannot move, cannot speak, cannot act. All she can do is endure. It is also, not coincidentally, a description of perfect love: patient, faithful, uncomplaining. When Orsino asks what happened to this woman, Viola says 'a blank' — nothing, no resolution. That's where she is right now. In the blank.

DUKE

But died thy sister of her love, my boy?

But died your sister of her love, my boy?

but died your sister of her love, my boy?

But died thy sister of her love, my boy?

VIOLA ≋ verse

I am all the daughters of my father’s house,

And all the brothers too: and yet I know not.

Sir, shall I to this lady?

I am all the daughters of my father’s house, And all the brothers too: and yet I know not. Sir, shall I to this lady?

i am all the daughters of my father’s house, and all the brothers too: and yet i know not. sir, shall i to this lady?

I am all the daughters of my father’s house, And all the brothers too: and yet I know not. Sir, shall I to this lady?

"I am all the daughters of my father's house, / And all the brothers too" One of Viola's most extraordinary lines: she is all her father's daughters (just her, an only daughter now) and all his brothers (just Sebastian, who she believes is dead). The line says: I am the only surviving child, and I may or may not survive my situation. It's also structurally true: she is all genders at once in her disguise.

DUKE ≋ verse

Ay, that’s the theme.

To her in haste. Give her this jewel; say

My love can give no place, bide no denay.

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

ay, that’s the theme. to her in haste. give her this jewel; say my love can give no place, bide no denay.

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

[_Exeunt._]

The Reckoning

This is the play's great romantic scene — and Orsino spends most of it being wrong in interesting ways. He tells Viola that women can't sustain passionate love the way men can. He tells her men should marry younger women because love needs to be sustained. Then Viola tells him a story about a woman who loved so completely that she never said a word, and just 'sat like Patience on a monument, smiling at grief.' He doesn't hear it as what it is. The audience does. The scene ends with Orsino sending Cesario back to Olivia, and neither of them saying what they actually mean.

If this happened today…

You're having lunch with the person you're in love with. They're talking about how much they love someone else. You listen. They say women can't love as intensely as men. You don't correct them. Instead you tell them about a friend of yours — 'your father's daughter' — who loved someone so completely that she just waited in silence until it either resolved or killed her. They find it touching. They go back to talking about the person they love. They ask you to go speak to that person for them.

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