Twelfth Night illustration

Twelfth Night

William Shakespeare

Act 1, Scene 2

Original Text

Enter Viola, a Captain and Sailors.

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VIOLA. What country, friends, is this?

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CAPTAIN. This is Illyria, lady.

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VIOLA. And what should I do in Illyria? My brother he is in Elysium. Perchance he is not drown’d. What think you, sailors?

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CAPTAIN. It is perchance that you yourself were sav’d.

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VIOLA. O my poor brother! and so perchance may he be.

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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.

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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?

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CAPTAIN. Ay, madam, well, for I was bred and born Not three hours’ travel from this very place.

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VIOLA. Who governs here?

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CAPTAIN. A noble duke, in nature as in name.

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VIOLA. What is his name?

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CAPTAIN. Orsino.

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VIOLA. Orsino! I have heard my father name him. He was a bachelor then.

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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.

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VIOLA. What’s she?

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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.

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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.

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CAPTAIN. That were hard to compass, Because she will admit no kind of suit, No, not the Duke’s.

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VIOLA. There is a fair behaviour 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 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.

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CAPTAIN. Be you his eunuch and your mute I’ll be; When my tongue blabs, then let mine eyes not see.

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VIOLA. I thank thee. Lead me on. [_Exeunt._]

Act 1, Scene 2