William Shakespeare - Ultimate Collection: Complete Plays & Poetry in One Volume. William Shakespeare
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SIR ANDREW AGUECHEEK
MALVOLIO, steward to Olivia
FABIAN, servant to Olivia
FESTE, a clown, servant to Olivia
OLIVIA, a rich countess
VIOLA
MARIA, Olivia’s waiting woman
Lords, Priests, Sailors, Officers, Musicians, and other
Attendants
SCENE: A city in Illyria, and the seacoast near it
ACT I.
SCENE I. An apartment in the DUKE’S palace.
[Enter DUKE, 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;
‘T is 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
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 flow’rs;
Love-thoughts lie rich when canopied with bow’rs.
[Exeunt.]
SCENE II. The seacoast.
[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 sav’d.
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 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.
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 his 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 abjur’d the company
And sight of men.
VIOLA.
O that I serv’d 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.