Twelfth Night / 2
Twelfth Night
by William Shakespeare
Act 1, Scene 1
DUKE ORSINO's palace.
Enter DUKE ORSINO, CURIO, and other Lords; Musicians attending
DUKE ORSINO
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:
'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 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?
What, Curio?
The hart.
Why, so I do, the noblest that I have:
O, when mine eyes did see Olivia first,
Methought she purged 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.
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.
Exeunt
Act 1, Scene 2
The sea-coast.
Enter VIOLA, a Captain, and Sailors
VIOLA
What country, friends, is this?
Captain
This is Illyria, lady.
And what should I do in Illyria?
My brother he is in Elysium.
Perchance he is not drown'd: what think you, sailors?
It is perchance that you yourself were saved.
O my poor brother! and so perchance may he be.
True, madam: and, to comfort you with chance,
Assure yourself, after our ship did split,
When you and those poor number saved with you
Hung on our driving boat, I saw your brother,
Most provident in peril, bind himself,
Courage and hope both teaching him the practise,
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.
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?
Ay, madam, well; for I was bred and born
Not three hours' travel from this very place.
Who governs here?
A noble duke, in nature as in name.
What is the name?
Orsino.
Orsino! I have heard my father name him:
He was a bachelor then.
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.
What's she?
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 abjured the company
And sight of men.
O that I served that lady
And might not be delivered to the world,
Till I had made mine own occasion mellow,
What my estate is!
That were hard to compass;
Because she will admit no kind of suit,
No, not the duke's.
There is a fair behavior 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 shall 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 thy silence to my wit.
Be you his eunuch, and your mute I'll be:
When my tongue blabs, then let mine eyes not see.
I thank thee: lead me on.
Act 1, Scene 3
OLIVIA'S house.
Enter SIR TOBY BELCH and MARIA
SIR TOBY BELCH
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.
Why, let her except, before excepted.
Ay, but you must confine yourself within the modest
limits of order.
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.
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.
Who, Sir Andrew Aguecheek?
Ay, he.
He's as tall a man as any's in Illyria.
What's that to the purpose?
Why, he has three thousand ducats a year.
Ay, but he'll have but a year in all these ducats:
he's a very fool and a prodigal.
Fie, that you'll say so! he plays o' the
viol-de-gamboys, and speaks three or four languages
word for word without book, and hath all the good
gifts of nature.
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.
By this hand, they are scoundrels and subtractors
that say so of him. Who are they?
They that add, moreover, he's drunk nightly in your company.
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' the toe like a parish-top. What, wench!
Castiliano vulgo! for here comes Sir Andrew Agueface.
Enter SIR ANDREW
SIR ANDREW
Sir Toby Belch! how now, Sir Toby Belch!
Sweet Sir Andrew!
Bless you, fair shrew.
And you too, sir.
Accost, Sir Andrew, accost.
What's that?
My niece's chambermaid.
Good Mistress Accost, I desire better acquaintance.
My name is Mary, sir.
Good Mistress Mary Accost,--
You mistake, knight; 'accost' is front her, board
her, woo her, assail her.
By my troth, I would not undertake her in this
company. Is that the meaning of 'accost'?
Fare you well, gentlemen.
An thou let part so, Sir Andrew, would thou mightst
never draw sword again.
An you part so, mistress, I would I might never
draw sword again. Fair lady, do you think you have
fools in hand?
Sir, I have not you by the hand.
Marry, but you shall have; and here's my hand.
Now, sir, 'thought is free:' I pray you, bring
your hand to the buttery-bar and let it drink.
Wherefore, sweet-heart? what's your metaphor?
It's dry, sir.
Why, I think so: I am not such an ass but I can
keep my hand dry. But what's your jest?
A dry jest, sir.
Are you full of them?
Ay, sir, I have them at my fingers' ends: marry,
now I let go your hand, I am barren.
Exit
O knight thou lackest a cup of canary: when did I
see thee so put down?
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.
No question.
An I thought that, I'ld forswear it. I'll ride home
to-morrow, Sir Toby.
Pourquoi, my dear knight?
What is 'Pourquoi'? do or not do? I would I had
bestowed that time in the tongues that I have in
fencing, dancing and bear-baiting: O, had I but
followed the arts!
Then hadst thou had an excellent head of hair.
Why, would that have mended my hair?
Past question; for thou seest it will not curl by nature.
But it becomes me well enough, does't not?
Excellent; it hangs like flax on a distaff; and I
hope to see a housewife take thee between her legs
and spin it off.
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 woos her.
She'll none o' the 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.
I'll stay a month longer. I am a fellow o' the
strangest mind i' the world; I delight in masques
and revels sometimes altogether.
Art thou good at these kickshawses, knight?
As any man in Illyria, whatsoever he be, under the
degree of my betters; and yet I will not compare
with an old man.
What is thy excellence in a galliard, knight?
Faith, I can cut a caper.
And I can cut the mutton to't.
And I think I have the back-trick simply as strong
as any man in Illyria.
Wherefore are these things hid? wherefore have
these gifts a curtain before 'em? are they like to
take dust, like Mistress Mall's picture? why dost
thou not go to church in a galliard and come home in
a coranto? My very walk should be a jig; I would not
so much as make water but in a sink-a-pace. What
dost thou mean? Is it a world to hide virtues in?
I did think, by the excellent constitution of thy
leg, it was formed under the star of a galliard.
Ay, 'tis strong, and it does indifferent well in a
flame-coloured stock. Shall we set about some revels?
What shall we do else? were we not born under Taurus?
Taurus! That's sides and heart.
No, sir; it is legs and thighs. Let me see the
caper; ha! higher: ha, ha! excellent!
Act 1, Scene 4
Enter VALENTINE and VIOLA in man's attire
If the duke continue these favours towards you,
Cesario, you are like to be much advanced: he hath
known you but three days, and already you are no stranger.
You either fear his humour or my negligence, that
you call in question the continuance of his love:
is he inconstant, sir, in his favours?
No, believe me.
I than...
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