PERSONS REPRESENTED.

ORSINO, Duke of Illyria.
SEBASTIAN, a young Gentleman, Brother to Viola.
ANTONIO, a Sea Captain, friend to Sebastian.
A Sea Captain, Friend to Viola.

VALENTINE, Gentlemen attending on the Duks.

CURIO,

SIR TOBY BELCH, Uncle of Olivia.
SIR ANDREW AGUE-CHEEK.

MALVOLIO, Steward to Olivia.

FABIAN, Servants to Clown, S

Olivia.

OLIVIA, a rich Countess.

VIOLA, in love with the Duke.

MARIA, Olivia's Woman.

Lords, Priests, Sailors, Officers, Musicians, and other Attendants.

SCENE-a City in Illyria; and the Sea Coast near it.

TWELFTH NIGHT;

OR,

WHAT YOU WILL.

ACT I.

SCENE I. An Apartment in the Duke's Palace.
Enter Duke, CURIO, Lords; Musicians attending.
Duke. Ir musick be the food of love, play on,
Give me excess of it; that, surfeiting,
The appetite may sicken, and so die.-
That strain again;-it had a dying fall:
O, it came o'er my ear like the sweet south,
That breathes upon a bank of violets,
Stealing, and giving odour. Enough; no more;
'Tis not so sweet now as it was before.
O spirit of love, how quick and fresh art thou !
That notwithstanding thy capacity
Receiveth as the sea, nought enters there,
Of what validity and pitch soever,
But falls into abatement and low price,
Even in a minute! so full of shapes is fancy,
That it alone is high-fantastical.

Cur. Will you go hunt, my lord?
Duke.

Cur.

What, Curio?

The hart.

Duke. Why, so I do, the noblest that I have: O, when mine eyes did see Olivia first, Methought, she purg'd the air of pestilence; That instant was I turn'd into a hart; And my desires, like fell and cruel hounds, E'er since pursue me. How now? what news

Enter VALENTINE.

Val. So please my lord, I might not be ad

mitted,
But from her handmaid do return this answer:
The element itself, till seven years' heat,
Shall not behold her face at ample view;
But, like a cloistress, she will veiled walk,
And water once a day her chamber round
With eye-offending brine: all this, to season
A brother's dead love, which she would keep

fresh,

And lasting, in her sad remembrance.

Duke. O, she, that hath a heart of that fine
frame,

To pay this debt of love but to a brother,
How will she love, when the rich golden shaft
Hath kill'd the flock of all affections else
That live in her! when liver, brain, and heart,
These sovereign thrones, are all supplied, and

fill'd

(Her sweet perfections) with one self king!
Away before me to sweet beds of flowers;
Love-thoughts lie rich, when canopied with

bowers.

SCENE II. The Sea Coast.

[Exeunt.

Enter VIOLA, Captain, and Sailors.

Vio. What country, friends, is this?
Cap.

Illyria, lady.

Vio. And what should I do in Illyria?
My brother he is in Elysium.
Perchance he is not drown'd:--What think you,

sailors ?

Cap. It is perchance that you yourself were

saved.

Vio. O my poor brother! and so, perchance,

may he be.

Cap. True, madam: and, to comfort you with

chance,

Assure yourself, after our ship did split,
When you, and that poor number saved with

you,

Hung on our driving boat, I saw your brother,
Most provident in peril, bind himself

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(Courage and hope both teaching him the prac

tice)

To a strong mast, that lived upon the sea.
Where, like Arion on the dolphin's back,
I saw him hold acquaintance with the waves,

So long as I could see.

Vio.

For saying so, there's, gold:

Mine own escape unfoldeth to my hope,
Whereto thy speech serves for authority,
The like of him. Know'st thou this country?

Cap. Ay, madam, well; for I was bred and born

Not three hours travel from this very place.

Vie. Who governs here?

Cap.

As in his name.

Vio.

Cap.

him:

A noble duke, in nature,

What is his name?

Orsino.

Vio. Orsino! I have heard my father name

He was a bachelor then.

Cap.

And so is now,

Or was so very late: for but a month

Ago I went from hence; and then 'twas fresh

In murmur (as you know, what great ones do,

The less will prattle of), that he did seek

The love of fair Olivia.

Vio.

What's she?

Cap. A virtuous maid, the daughter of a count

That died sone twelvemonth since; then leav

ing her

In the protection of his son, her brother,
Who shortly also died: for whose dear love

They say she hath abjur'd the company

And sight of men.

Vio.

O, that I serv'd that lady:

And might not be delivered to the world,

Till I had made mine own occasion mellow,

What my estate is.

Cap.

That were hard to compass;

Because she will admit no kind of suit,
No, not the duke's.

Vio. There is a fair behaviour in thee, captain;
And though that nature with a beauteous wall
Doth oft close in pollution, yet of thee
I will believe, thou hast a mind that suits
With this thy fair and outward character.

I pray thee, and I'll pay thee bounteously,
Conceal me what I am; and be my aid
For such disguise as, haply, shall become
The form of my intent. I'll serve this duke;
Thou shalt present me as an eunuch to him,
It may be worth thy pains; for I can sing,
And speak to him in many sorts of musick,
That will allow me very worth his service.
What else may hap, to time I will commit;
Only shape thou thy silence to my wit.

Cap. Be you his eunuch, and your mute I'll be:
When my tongue blabs, then let mine eyes not

see!

Vio. I thank thee: Lead me on.

[Exeunt.

SCENE III. A Room in Olivia's House.
Enter SIR TOBY BELCH and MARIA.

Sir To. What a plague means my niece, to take the death of her brother thus? I am sure, care's an enemy to life.

Mar. By my troth, Sir Toby, you must come in earlier o'nights; ; your cousin, my lady, takes great exceptions to your ill hours.

Sir To. Why, let her except before excepted. Mar. Ay, but you must confine yourself within the modest limits of order.

Sir To. Confine? I'll confine myself no finer than I am: these clothes are good enough to drink in, and so be these boots too; an they be not, let them hang themselves in their own straps. Mar. That quaffing and drinking will undo you: I heard my lady talk of it yesterday; and of a foolish knight, that you brought in one night here, to be her wooer.

Sir To. Who, Sir Andrew Ague-cheek?

Mar. Ay, he.

Sir To. He's as tall a man as any's in Illyria.
Mar. What's that to the purpose?

Sir To. Why, he has three thousand ducats a

year.

Mar. Ay, but he'll have but a year in all these ducats; he's a very fool and a prodigal.

Sir To. Fye, that you'll say so! he plays o' the viol-de-gambo, and speaks three or four languages word for word without book, and hath all the good gifts of nature.

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