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Dramatis Perfonæ.

ORSINO, Duke of Illyria.

SEBASTIAN, a young gentleman, brother to Viola.
ANTONIO, a fea-captain, friend to Sebastian.

VALENTINE,

CURIO,

Gentlemen, attending on the Duke.

Sir TOBY BELCH, uncle to Olivia.

Sir ANDREW AGUECHEEK, a foolish knight, pretending to Olivia.

A Sea-captain, friend to Viola.

FABIAN, fervant to Olivia.

MALVOLIO, a fantastical steward to Olivia.

Clown, fervant to Olivia.

OLIVIA, a Lady of great beauty and fortune, beloved by the Duke.

VIOLA, in love with the Duke.

MARIA, Olivia's woman.

Prief, Sailors, Officers, and other Attendants.

SCENE, A City on the Coaft of Illyria.

The Perfons of the Drama were first enumerated, with all the cant of the modern stage, by Mr Rowe.

TWELFTH-NIGHT:

O R,

WHAT YOU WILL.

ACT I.

SCENE I.

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I

The Palace.

Enter the Duke, Curio, and Lords.

Duke.

F mufic be the food of love, play on;
Give me excefs of it; that, furfeiting,
The appetite may ficken, and fo die.

That ftrain again;-it had a dying fall:
O, it came o'er my ear like the sweet fouth,
That breathes upon a bank of violets,
Stealing, and giving odour. Enough!-no more
'Tis not fo fweet now as it was before.

O fpirit of love, how quick and fresh art thou!
That, notwithstanding thy capacity
Receiveth as the fea, nought enters there,
Of what validity and pitch foe'er,

But falls into abatement and low price,

Even in a minute; fo full of fhapes in fancy,

That it alone is high fantastical.

Cur. Will you go hunt, my Lord?

Duke. What, Curio?

Cur. The hart.

Duke. Why, fo I do, the nobleft that I have. O, when my eyes did fee Olivia first,

Methought the purg'd the air of peftilence :
That inftant was I turn'd into a hart,

And my defires, like fell and cruel hounds,
E'er fince purfue 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 hence,
Shall not behold her face at ample view;,
But, like a cloyftrefs, fhe will veiled walk,
And water once a day her chamber round
With eye-offending brine: all this to feason
A brother's dead love, which fhe would keep fresh
And lasting in her fad remembrance.

Duke. O, fhe, that hath a heart of that fine frame,
To pay this debt of love but to a brother,
How will fhe love, when the rich golden fhaft
Hath kill'd the flock of all affections elfe

That live in her? when liver, brain, and heart,
Three fov'reign thrones, are all fupply'd, and fill'd,
Her fweet perfections, with one self-fame king!
Away before me to fweet beds of flowers;
Love-thoughts ly rich, when canopy'd with bowers.
[Exeunt.

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Enter Viola, a Captain and Sailors.

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

Vio. And what fhould I do in Illyria?
My brother he is in Elyfium.-

Perchance he is not drown'd; what think you, failors?

Cap. It is perchance that you yourself were fav'd. Vio. O my poor brother! fo, perchance, may he be. Cap. True, Madam: and to comfort you with chance,

Affure yourself, after our fhip did split,

When you, and that poor number fav'd with you, Hung on our driving boat, I saw your brother,

Moft provident in peril, bind himfelf

(Courage and hope both teaching him the practice)
To a strong maft that liv'd upon the fea;
Where, like Arion on the dolphin's back,

I faw him hold acquaintance with the waves,
So long as I could fee.

Vio. For faying fo, there's gold.

Mine own efcape unfoldeth to my hope,
Whereto thy fpeech serves for authority,
The like of him. Know'ft 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. Orfino.

Vio. Orfino! I have heard my father name him: He was a batchelor then.

Cap. And fo is now, or was fo 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 lefs will pratile of)
That he did feek the love of fair Ölivia.
Vio. What's fhe?

Cap. A virtuous maid, the daughter of a Count That dy'd fome twelve months fince, then leaving In the protection of his fon, her brother,

Who fhortly alfo dy'd; for whose dear love,
They say, the hath abjur'd the fight

And company of men.

Vio. O, that I ferv'd that lady,

And might not be deliver'd to the world,
'Till I had made mine own occafion mellow

What my estate is!

Cap. That were hard to compass; Because she will admit no kind of fuit,

No, not the Duke's.

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Vio. There is a fair behaviour in thee, Captain; And tho' that nature with a beauteous wall Doth oft close in pollution; yet of thee, I will believe, thou haft a mind that fuits With this thy fair and outward character:

I pr'ythee, and I'll pay thee bounteously,
Conceal me what I am, and be my aid
For fuch difguife as, haply, fhall become
The form of my intent. I'll ferve this Duke;
Thou fhalt prefent me as an eunuch to him,
It may be worth thy pains; for I can fing,
And fpeak to him in many forts of mufic,
That will allow me very worth his fervice.
What else may hap, to time I will commit;
Only fhape thou thy filence to my wit.

Cap. Be you his eunuch, and your mute I'll be:
When my tongue blabs, then let mine eyes not fee.
Vio. I thank thee; lead me on.
[Exeunt.

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An Apartment in Olivia's House.

Enter Sir Toby, and Maria.

Sir To. What a plague means my niece, to take the death of her brother thus? I am fure care's an enemy to life.

Mar. By my troth, Sir Toby, you must come in earlier a-nights; your niece, 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 modeft limits of order.

Sir To. Confine? I'll confine myself no finer than I am; thefe cloaths are good enough to drink in, and fo be these boots too; an they be not, let them hang themselves in their own ftraps.

Mar. 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 To. Who? Sir Andrew Ague-cheek?

Mar. Ay, he.

Sir To. He's as tall a man as any's in Illyria.
Mar. What's that to th' purpofe?

Sir To. Why, he has three thousand ducats a-year,

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