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1602 |
TWELFTH NIGHT; OR, WHAT YOU WILL |
by William Shakespeare |
DRAMATIS PERSONAE |
ORSINO, Duke of Illyria |
SEBASTIAN, brother of Viola |
ANTONIO, a sea captain, friend of Sebastian |
A SEA CAPTAIN, friend of Viola |
VALENTINE, gentleman attending on the Duke |
CURIO, gentleman attending on the Duke |
SIR TOBY BELCH, uncle of Olivia |
SIR ANDREW AGUECHEEK |
MALVOLIO, steward to Olivia |
FABIAN, servant to Olivia |
FESTE, a clown, servant to Olivia |
OLIVIA, a rich countess |
VIOLA, sister of Sebastian |
MARIA, Olivia's waiting woman |
Lords, Priests, Sailors, Officers, Musicians, and Attendants |
<<THIS ELECTRONIC VERSION OF THE COMPLETE WORKS OF WILLIAM |
SHAKESPEARE IS COPYRIGHT 1990-1993 BY WORLD LIBRARY, INC., AND IS |
PROVIDED BY PROJECT GUTENBERG ETEXT OF ILLINOIS BENEDICTINE COLLEGE |
WITH PERMISSION. ELECTRONIC AND MACHINE READABLE COPIES MAY BE |
DISTRIBUTED SO LONG AS SUCH COPIES (1) ARE FOR YOUR OR OTHERS |
PERSONAL USE ONLY, AND (2) ARE NOT DISTRIBUTED OR USED |
COMMERCIALLY. PROHIBITED COMMERCIAL DISTRIBUTION INCLUDES BY ANY |
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SCENE: |
A city in Illyria; and the sea-coast near it |
ACT I. SCENE I. |
The DUKE'S palace |
Enter ORSINO, Duke of Illyria, 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; |
'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? |
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 |
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