Twelfth Night By William Shakespeare

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Twelfth Night

William Shakespeare

Published: 1601

Categorie(s): Fiction, Drama

Source: http://shakespeare.mit.edu/ About Shakespeare:

William Shakespeare (baptised 26 April 1564 – died 23 April 1616) was an English poet and playwright, widely regarded as the greatest writer in the English language and the world's pre-eminent dramatist. He is often called England's national poet and the "Bard of Avon" (or simply "The Bard"). His surviving works consist of 38 plays, 154 sonnets, two long narrative poems, and several other poems. His plays have been translated into every major living language, and are performed more often than those of any other playwright. Shakespeare was born and raised in Stratford-upon-Avon. At the age of 18 he married Anne Hathaway, who bore him three children: Susanna, and twins Hamnet and Judith. Between 1585 and 1592 he began a successful career in London as an actor, writer, and part owner of the playing company the Lord Chamberlain's Men, later known as the King's Men. He appears to have retired to Stratford around 1613, where he died three years later. Few records of Shakespeare's private life survive, and there has been considerable speculation about such matters as his sexuality, religious beliefs, and whether the works attributed to him were written by others. Shakespeare produced most of his known work between 1590 and 1613. His early plays were mainly comedies and histories, genres he raised to the peak of sophistication and artistry by the end of the sixteenth century. Next he wrote mainly tragedies until about 1608, including Hamlet, King Lear, and Macbeth, considered some of the finest examples in the English language. In his last phase, he wrote tragicomedies, also known as romances, and collaborated with other playwrights. Many of his plays were published in editions of varying quality and accuracy during his lifetime, and in 1623 two of his former theatrical colleagues published the First Folio, a collected edition of his dramatic works that included all but two of the plays now recognised as Shakespeare's. Shakespeare was a respected poet and playwright in his own day, but his reputation did not rise to its present heights until the nineteenth century. The Romantics, in particular, acclaimed Shakespeare's genius, and the Victorians hero-worshipped Shakespeare with a reverence that George Bernard Shaw called "bardolatry". In the twentieth century, his work was repeatedly adopted and rediscovered by new movements in scholarship and performance. His plays remain highly popular today and are consistently performed and reinterpreted in diverse cultural and political contexts throughout the world. Source: Wikipedia

Also available on Feedbooks Shakespeare:

- Romeo and Juliet (1597)

- Hamlet (1599)

- Macbeth (1606)

- A Midsummer Night's Dream (1596)

- Julius Caesar (1599)

- Othello (1603)

- The Merchant of Venice (1598)

- Much Ado About Nothing (1600)

- King Lear (1606)

- The Taming of the Shrew (1594)

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Act I

SCENE I. 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?

DUKE ORSINO

> What, Curio?

CURIO

> The hart.

DUKE ORSINO

> 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.

DUKE ORSINO

> 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

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 saved.

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 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.

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 the 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 abjured the company

> And sight of men.

VIOLA

> 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!

Captain

> That were hard to compass;

> Because she will admit no kind of suit,

> No, not the duke's.

VIOLA

> 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.

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 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.

SIR TOBY BELCH

> Why, let her except, before excepted.

MARIA

> Ay, but you must confine yourself within the modest

> limits of order.

SIR TOBY BELCH

> 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.

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 BELCH

> Who, Sir Andrew Aguecheek?

MARIA

> Ay, he.

SIR TOBY BELCH

> He's as tall a man as any's in Illyria.

MARIA

> What's that to the purpose?

SIR TOBY BELCH

> 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 BELCH

> 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.

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 BELCH

> 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 BELCH

> 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!

SIR TOBY BELCH

> Sweet Sir Andrew!

SIR ANDREW

> Bless you, fair shrew.

MARIA

> And you too, sir.

SIR TOBY BELCH

> Accost, Sir Andrew, accost.

SIR ANDREW

> What's that?

SIR TOBY BELCH

> 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 BELCH

> 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 BELCH

> An thou let part so, Sir Andrew, would thou mightst

> never draw sword again.

SIR ANDREW

> An 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 the 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 the 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 BELCH

> O knight thou lackest 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 BELCH

> No question.

SIR ANDREW

> An I thought that, I'ld forswear it. I'll ride home

> to-morrow, Sir Toby.

SIR TOBY BELCH

> Pourquoi, my dear knight?

SIR ANDREW

> 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!

SIR TOBY BELCH

> Then hadst thou had an excellent head of hair.

SIR ANDREW

> Why, would that have mended my hair?

SIR TOBY BELCH

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

SIR ANDREW

> But it becomes me well enough, does't not?

SIR TOBY BELCH

> Excellent; it hangs like flax on a distaff; and I

> hope to see a housewife take thee between her legs

> and spin it off.

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 woos her.

SIR TOBY BELCH

> 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.

SIR ANDREW

> 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.

SIR TOBY BELCH

> Art thou good at these kickshawses, knight?

SIR ANDREW

> As any man in Illyria, whatsoever he be, under the

> degree of my betters; and yet I will not compare

> with an old man.

SIR TOBY BELCH

> What is thy excellence in a galliard, knight?

SIR ANDREW

> Faith, I can cut a caper.

SIR TOBY BELCH

> And I can cut the mutton to't.

SIR ANDREW

> And I think I have the back-trick simply as strong

> as any man in Illyria.

SIR TOBY BELCH

> 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.

SIR ANDREW

> Ay, 'tis strong, and it does indifferent well in a

> flame-coloured stock. Shall we set about some revels?

SIR TOBY BELCH

> What shall we do else? were we not born under Taurus?

SIR ANDREW

> Taurus! That's sides and heart.

SIR TOBY BELCH

> No, sir; it is legs and thighs. Let me see the

> caper; ha! higher: ha, ha! excellent!

>

> Exeunt

SCENE IV. DUKE ORSINO's palace.

> Enter VALENTINE and VIOLA in man's attire

VALENTINE

> 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.

VIOLA

> 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?

VALENTINE

> No, believe me.

VIOLA

> I thank you. Here comes the count.

>

> Enter DUKE ORSINO, CURIO, and Attendants

DUKE ORSINO

> Who saw Cesario, ho?

VIOLA

> On your attendance, my lord; here.

DUKE ORSINO

> Stand you a while 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 denied access, stand at her doors,

> And tell them, there thy fixed foot shall grow

> Till thou have audience.

VIOLA