VIOLA.
And so they are: alas, that they are so;
To die, even when they to perfection grow!

[Re-enter CURIO and CLOWN.]

DUKE.
O, fellow, come, the song we had last night.
Mark it, Cesario, it is old and plain;
The spinsters and the knitters in the sun,
And the free maids that weave their thread with bones,
Do use to chant it: it is silly sooth,
And dallies with the innocence of love,
Like the old age.

CLOWN.
Are you ready, sir?

DUKE.
Ay; prithee, sing.

[Music]

SONG

CLOWN.
Come away, come away, death,
And in sad cypress let me be laid;
Fly away, fly away, breath;