For, boy, however we do praise ourselves, 37 Our fancies are more giddy and unfirm, 38 More longing, wavering, sooner lost and worn, 39 Than women’s are.
ORSINO
For, boy, however we do praise ourselves, 37
Our fancies are more giddy and unfirm, 38
More longing, wavering, sooner lost and worn, 39
Than women’s are. 40
VIOLA
I think it well, my lord. 41
ORSINO
Then let thy love be younger than thyself, 42
Or thy affection cannot hold the bent . 43
For women are as roses, whose fair flower, 44
Being once displayed , doth fall that very hour. 45
VIOLA
And so they are. Alas, that they are so, 46
To die even when they to perfection grow! 47
Enter Curio and < Feste, the Fool. >
