Twelfth Night, William Shakespeare [the lemonade war series .TXT] 📗

DRAMATIS PERSONAE

ORSINO, Duke of Illyria
SEBASTIAN, brother to Viola
ANTONIO, a sea captain, friend to Sebastian
A SEA CAPTAIN, friend to Viola
VALENTINE, gentleman attending on the Duke
CURIO, gentleman attending on the Duke
SIR TOBY BELCH, uncle to Olivia
SIR ANDREW AGUECHEEK
MALVOLIO, steward to Olivia
FABIAN, servant to Olivia
FESTE, a clown, servant to Olivia

OLIVIA, a rich countess
VIOLA
MARIA, Olivia's waiting woman

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

SCENE: A city in Illyria, and the sea-coast near it


ACT I.

SCENE I. An apartment in the DUKE'S palace.

[Enter DUKE, CURIO, and other LORDS; MUSICIANS attending.]

DUKE.
If music 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 sound
That breathes upon a bank of violets,
Stealing and giving odour! Enough; no more;
'T is 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 soe'er,
But falls into abatement and low price,
Even in a minute! so full of shapes is fancy
That it alone is high fantastical.

CURIO.
Will you go hunt, my lord?

DUKE.
What, Curio?

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.

[Enter VALENTINE.]

How now! what news from her?

VALENTINE.
So please my lord, I might not be admitted,
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 flow'rs;
Love-thoughts lie rich when canopied with bow'rs.

[Exeunt.]


SCENE II. The sea-coast.

[Enter VIOLA, a CAPTAIN, and SAILORS.]

VIOLA.
What country, friends, is this?

CAPTAIN.
This is Illyria, lady.

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

CAPTAIN.
It is perchance that you yourself were sav'd.

VIOLA.
O my poor brother! and so perchance may he be.

CAPTAIN.
True, madam: and, to comfort you with chance,
Assure yourself, after our ship did split,
When you, and those poor number sav'd with you,
Hung on our driving boat, I saw your brother,
Most provident in peril, bind himself,
Courage and hope both teaching him the practice,
To a strong mast that liv'd 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.

VIOLA.
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?

CAPTAIN.
Ay, madam, well; for I was bred and born
Not three hours' travel from this very place.

VIOLA.
Who governs here?

CAPTAIN.
A noble duke, in nature as in name.

VIOLA.
What is his name?

CAPTAIN.
Orsino.

VIOLA.
Orsino! I have heard my father name him;
He was a bachelor then.

CAPTAIN.
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.

VIOLA.
What's she?

CAPTAIN.
A virtuous maid, the daughter of a count
That died some twelvemonth since, then leaving 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.

VIOLA.
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!

CAPTAIN.
That were hard to compass,
Because she will admit no kind of suit,
No, not the duke's.

VIOLA.
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 prithee, 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 music
That will allow me very worth his service.
What else may hap, to time I will commit;
Only shape thou silence to my wit.

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

VIOLA.
I thank thee; lead me on.

[Exeunt.]


SCENE III.

OLIVIA'S house.

[Enter SIR TOBY BELCH and MARIA.]

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

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

SIR TOBY.
Why, let her except before excepted.

MARIA.
Ay, but you must confine yourself within the modest limits of
order.

SIR TOBY.
Confine! I'll confine myself no finer than I am. These clothes
are good enough to drink in, and so be these boots too; and they
be not, let them hang themselves in their own straps.

MARIA.
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 TOBY.
Who, Sir Andrew Aguecheek?

MARIA.
Ay, he.

SIR TOBY.
He's as tall a man as any's in Illyria.

MARIA.
What's that to th' purpose?

SIR TOBY.
Why, he has three thousand ducats a year.

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

SIR TOBY.
Fie, that you'll say so! he plays o' th' viol-de-gamboys, and
speaks three or four languages word for word without book, and
hath all the good gifts of nature.

MARIA.
He hath indeed, almost natural; for, besides that he's a fool,
he's a great quarreller; and but that he hath the gift of a
coward to allay the gust he hath in quarrelling, 'tis thought
among the prudent he would quickly have the gift of a grave.

SIR TOBY.
By this hand, they are scoundrels and subtractors that say so of
him. Who are they?

MARIA.
They that add, moreover, he's drunk nightly in your company.

SIR TOBY.
With drinking healths to my niece. I'll drink to her as long as
there is a passage in my throat and drink in Illyria: he's a
coward and a coystrill that will not drink to my niece
till his brains turn o' th' toe like a parish-top. What, wench!
Castiliano vulgo! for here comes Sir Andrew Agueface.

[Enter SIR ANDREW AGUECHEEK.]

SIR ANDREW.
Sir Toby Belch; how now, Sir Toby Belch!

SIR TOBY.
Sweet Sir Andrew!

SIR ANDREW.
Bless you, fair shrew.

MARIA.
And you too, sir.

SIR TOBY.
Accost, Sir Andrew, accost.

SIR ANDREW.
What's that?

SIR TOBY.
My niece's chambermaid.

SIR ANDREW.
Good Mistress Accost, I desire better acquaintance.

MARIA.
My name is Mary, sir.

SIR ANDREW.
Good Mistress Mary Accost, -

SIR TOBY.
You mistake, knight; 'accost' is front her, board her, woo her,
assail her.

SIR ANDREW.
By my troth, I would not undertake her in this company. Is that
the meaning of 'accost'?

MARIA.
Fare you well, gentlemen.

SIR TOBY.
An thou let part so, Sir Andrew, would thou mightst never draw
sword again.

SIR ANDREW.
And you part so, mistress, I would I might never draw sword
again. Fair lady, do you think you have fools in hand?

MARIA.
Sir, I have not you by th' hand.

SIR ANDREW.
Marry, but you shall have; and here's my hand.

MARIA.
Now, sir, 'thought is free.' I pray you, bring your hand to th'
buttery-bar and let it drink.

SIR ANDREW.
Wherefore, sweet-heart? what's your metaphor?

MARIA.
It's dry, sir.

SIR ANDREW.
Why, I think so; I am not such an ass but I can keep my hand dry.
But what's your jest?

MARIA.
A dry jest, sir.

SIR ANDREW.
Are you full of them?

MARIA.
Ay, sir, I have them at my fingers' ends; marry, now I let go
your hand, I am barren.
[Exit.]

SIR TOBY.
O knight, thou lack'st a cup of canary; when did I see thee so
put down?

SIR ANDREW.
Never in your life, I think; unless you see canary put me down.
Methinks sometimes I have no more wit than a Christian or an
ordinary man has; but I am a great eater of beef, and I
believe that does harm to my wit.

SIR TOBY.
No question.

SIR ANDREW.
And I thought that, I'd forswear it. I'll ride home to-morrow,
Sir Toby.

SIR TOBY.
Pourquoi, my dear knight?

SIR ANDREW.
What is 'pourquoi'? do or not do? I would I had bestow'd that
time in the tongues that I have in fencing, dancing, and
bear-baiting! O, had I but follow'd the arts!

SIR TOBY.
Then hadst thou had an excellent head of hair.

SIR ANDREW.
Why, would that have mended my hair?

SIR TOBY.
Past question; for thou seest it will not curl by nature.

SIR ANDREW.
But it becomes me well enough, does't not?

SIR TOBY.
Excellent; it hangs like flax on a distaff.

SIR ANDREW.
Faith, I'll home to-morrow, Sir Toby. Your niece will not be
seen; or, if she be, it's four to one she'll none of me: the
count himself here hard by wooes her.

SIR TOBY.
She'll none o' th' count. She'll not match above her degree,
neither in estate, years, nor wit; I have heard her swear't. Tut,
there's life in't, man.

SIR ANDREW.
I'll stay a month longer. I am a fellow o' th' strangest mind i'
th' world; I delight in masques and revels sometimes altogether.

SIR TOBY.