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.
What dost thou know?
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.
Why do you think Viola feels the need to argue with Orsino at this moment?
And what’s her history?
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.
She let her secret eat away at her, taking the colour from her cheeks, like a worm feeds on pink damask roses.
The figure of ‘Patience’ was often shown on Renaissance tombstones. Why do you think Viola might refer to a gravestone and to death here?
We outwardly show more than we feel, and say much in our promises of love but don’t always do what we promise.
But died thy sister of her love, my boy?
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?
Why do you think Viola says this?
Ay, that’s the theme.
To her in haste; give her this jewel; say
My love can give no place, bide no denay.
Accept no denial or refusal