William Shakespeare: Twelfth Night

ACT II. 4. SCENE IV. A Room in the DUKE'S Palace. (continued)

DUKE.
And what's her history?

VIOLA.
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 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?

VIOLA.
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?

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

[Exeunt.]