Oli. What do you say, Cesario? Good my [lord],—
Vio. My lord would speak; my duty hushes me.
Oli. If it be aught to the old tune, my lord,
It is as [fat] and fulsome to mine ear
As howling after music.
Duke. [Still] so cruel?
Oli. Still [so constant, lord].
Duke. What, to perverseness? You uncivil lady,
To whom ingrate and unauspicious altars