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Or in the all-golden afternoon

A guest, or happy sister, sung,
Or here she brought the harp and flung
A ballad to the brightening moon.

TENNYSON.

vergente mox cantabat aureo die

aut hospes aut Calpurnia, vel illa sumpta iam nitescentem lyra

admurmurabat Cynthiam.

nurmur

lam.

DUKE. VIOLA.

Vio

Ay, but I know-
DUKE. What dost thou know?
V10. 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.
DUKE.

And what's her history?

WOD

'ΑΝΑΞ. ΟΥΙΟΛΗ.

Α.

or.

ΟΥ. καίτοι σάφ' οίδα

πράγματος τίνος πέρι; λίαν τόδ', οίον ανδρός ίμερον γυνή τρέφειν πέφυκεν ως ετηθύμως δοκώ ανδρών γυναίκας πίστιν ουχ ήσσω τελεϊν. ήν πατρί τώμώ παίς τις, ή πόθω κέαρ ανδρός κατέσχεθ, ώσπερ ει καγώ γυνή

κυρών έρωτα σε κατασχοίμην, άναξ. Α. τύχας αν ήδη τήσδ' αναπτύσσοις κόρης.

ΚαΤα

avaTVO TOOLS

V10.

neve

en

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.

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VA

SHAKESPEARE.

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