ACT I.

SCENE I.-An Apartment in the Duke's Palace.
Enter DUKE, CURIO, 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 south,
That breathes upon a bank of violets,
Stealing, and giving odor.—Enough;
"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.

no more;

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

What, Curio?

Cur.

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;

The 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 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. Ö, 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.

Enter VIOLA, Captain, and Sailors.

Illyria, lady.

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

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
(Courage and hope both teaching him the practice)
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.

A noble duke, in nature,

As in his name.

Vio.

Vio. Who governs here?
Cap.

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 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.

[Exeunt.

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

Vio. 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 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 a page 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.

Cap. Be thou his page, and I your mute will be;
When my tongue blabs, then let mine eyes not see!

Vio. I thank thee: Lead me on.

[Exeunt.

Viola, having disguised herself in male attire, obtains the situation of Page, in the Duke's household, under the name of Cesario.

A Room in the Duke's Palace.

Enter VALENTINE, and VIOLA in man's attire.

Val. If the Duke continue these favors towards you, Cesario, you are like to be much advanced; he hath known you but three days, and already you are no stranger.

Vio. You either fear his humor, or my negligence, that you call in question the continuance of his love: Is he inconstant, sir, in his favors?

Val. No, believe me.

Enter DUKE, CURIO, and Attendants.

Vio. I thank you.
Here comes the count.
Duke. Who saw Cesario, ho?
Vio. On your attendance, my lord; here.
Duke. Stand you awhile aloof.-Cesario,
Thou know'st no less but all; I have unclasp'd
To thee the book even of my secret soul:
Therefore, good youth, address thy gait unto her;
Be not deny'd access, stand at her doors,

And tell them, there thy fixed foot shall grow,

Till thou have audience.

Vio.

Sure, my noble lord,
If she be so abandoned to her sorrow
As it is spoke, she never will admit me.

Duke. Be clamorous, and leap all civil bounds,
Rather than make unprofited return.

Vio. Say, I do speak with her, my lord: What then?
Duke. O, then unfold the passion of my love;
Surprise her with discourse of my dear faith.
It shall become thee well to act my woes;
She will attend it better in thy youth,
Than in a nuncio of more grave aspect.
Vio. I think not so, my lord.
Duke.

Dear lad, believe it;
For they shall yet belie thy happy years,
That say, thou art a man: Diana's lip
Is not more smooth, and rubious; thy small pipe
Is as the maiden's organ, shrill, and sound,
And all is semblative a woman's part.

I know, thy constellation is right apt

For this affair:-Some four, or five, attend him;
All, if you will; for I myself am best,
When least in company :-Prosper well in this,
And thou shalt live as freely as thy lord,
To call his fortunes thine.

Vio.

I'll do my best,

To woo your lady: yet,-[Aside.]—a barful strife:
Whoe'er I woo, myself would be his wife.

[Exeunt.

The Lady Olivia, attended by her waiting woman Maria, and Malvolio her steward, is informed that a messenger from the Duke seeks her

presence.

SCENE V.

Enter OLIVIA, MARIA, and MALVOLIO.

Mar. Madam, there is at the gate a young gentleman, much desires to speak with you.

Oli. From the count Orsino, is it?

Mar. I know not, madam; 'tis a fair young man, and well attended. Oli. Who of my people hold him in delay?

Mar. Sir Toby, madam, your kinsman.

Oli. Fetch him off, I pray you; he speaks nothing but madman: Fye on him!-[Exit MARIA.]-Go you, Malvolio: if it be a suit from the count, I am sick or not at home; what you will, to dismiss it.-[Exit MALVOLIO.]-Now you see, sir, how your fooling grows old, and people dislike it.

Re-enter MALVOLJO.

Mal. Madam, yond, young fellow swears he will speak with you.

I told him you were sick; he takes on him to understand so much, and therefore comes to speak with you: I told him you were asleep; he seems to have a fore-knowledge of that too, and therefore comes to speak with you. What is to be said to him, lady? he's fortified against any denial.

Oli. Tell him, he shall not speak with me.

Mal. He has been told so; and he says, he'll stand at your door like a sheriff's post, and be the supporter of a bench, but he'll speak with you.

Oli. What kind of man is he?

Mal. Why, of mankind.

Oli. What manner of man?

Mal. Of very ill manner; he'll speak with you, will you, or no. Oli. Of what personage, and years, is he?

Mal. Not yet old enough for a man, nor young enough for a boy He is very well-favored, and he speaks very shrewishly.

Oli. Let him approach: Call in my gentlewoman.
Mal. Gentlewoman, my lady calls.

Re-enter MARIA.

Oli. Give me my veil: come throw it o'er my face: We'll once more hear Orsino's embassy.

[Exit

Enter VIOLA.

Vio. The honorable lady of the house, which is she? Oli. Speak to me, I shall answer for her: Your will? Vio. Most radiant, exquisite, and unmatchable beauty, I pray you, tell me, if this be the lady of the house, for I never saw her: I would be loath to cast away my speech; for, besides that it is excellently well penn'd, I have taken great pains to con it. Good beauties, let me sustain no scorn; I am very comptible,* even to the least sinister usage. Oli. Whence came you, sir?

Vio. I can say little more than I have studied, and that question's out of my part. Good gentle one, give me modest assurance, if you be the lady of the house, that I may proceed in my speech. Oli. Are you a comedian?

Vio. No, my profound heart: and yet, by the very fangs of malice, I swear I am not that I play. Are you the lady of the house? Oli. If I do not usurp myself, I am.

Vio. Most certain, if you are she, you do usurp yourself; for what is yours to bestow, is not yours to reserve. But this is from my commission: I will on with my speech in your praise, and then show you the heart of my message.

Oli. Come to what is important in't I forgive you the praise.
Vio. Alas, I took great pains to study it, and 'tis poetical.

Oli. It is the more like to be feigned; I pray you keep it in. I heard you were saucy at my gates; and allowed your approach, rather to wonder at you than to hear you. If you be not mad, be

* Accountable.