Page 558 - Shakespeare - Vol. 3

No motion of the liver, but the palate,
That suffers surfeit, cloyment, and revolt; [100]
But mine is all as hungry as the sea,
And can digest as much. Make not compare

Between the love a woman can bear me
And that I owe Olivia.

VIOLA
Ay, but I know−

DUKE
What dost thou know? [105]

VIOLA
Too well what love women to men may owe:

In faith, they are as true of heart as we.
My father had a daughter lov’d a man,
As it might be perhaps, were I a woman,
I should your lordship.

DUKE
And what’s her history? [110]

VIOLA
A blank, my lord: she never told her love,

But let concealment like a worm i’ th’ bud
Feed on her damask cheek: she pin’d in thought,
And with a green and yellow melancholy

She sat like Patience on a monument, [115]
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? [120]