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.

B

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 from

her?

Enter Valentine.

Val. So please, my lord, I might not be admitted, But from her hand-maid 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 supply'd, and

fill'd,

(Her sweet perfections,) with one self king!Away before me to sweet beds of flowers;

Love-thoughts lie rich, when canopy'd with bowers. [Exeunt.

SCENE II.

THE SEA-COAST.

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 sav'd. 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 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.

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.
Vio. Who governs here?

Cap. A noble duke in nature, as in name.
Vio. What is his name?

Cap. Orsino.

Vio. Orsino! I have heard my father name him:

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 dy'd some twelve-month since; then leaving

her

In the protection of his son, her brother,
Who shortly also dy'd: 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 deliver'd 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.

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