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Dramatis Perfonæ.

ORSINO, Duke of Illyria.

Sebaftian, a young Gentleman, Brother to Viola.
Antonio, a Sea-captain, Friend to Sebastian.
Valentine,

Curio,

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Gentlemen, attending

Sir Toby Belch, Uncle to Olivia.

on

the Duke.

Sir Andrew Ague-cheek, a foolish Knight, pretending te

Olivia.

A Sea-captain, Friend to Viola.

Fabian, Servant to Olivia.

4

Malvolio, a fantastical Steward to Olivia.

Clown, Servant to Olivia.

Olivia, a Lady of great Beauty and Fortune, below'd by the Duke.

Viola, in love with the Duke.
Maria, Olivia's Woman.

Prieft, Sailors, Officers, and other Attendants.

SCENE, a City on the Coast of Illyria.

TWELFTH-NIGHT:

OR,

WHAT YOU WILL.

ACT I.

SCENE, The PALACE.
Enter the Duke, Curio, and Lords.

I

DUKE.

F mufick be the food of love, play on;
Give me excess of it; that, surfeiting,
The appetite may ficken, and so die.
That strain 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 so sweet 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,

E3

Even

Even in a minute; (1) so full of shapes in fancy,
That it alone is high fantastical.

Cur. Will you go hunt, my Lord ?

Duke. What, Curio?

Cur. The hart.

Duke. Why, so I do, the noblest that I have:

O, when my eyes did see Olivia first,
Methought, she purg'd the air of pestilence;
That instant was I turn'd into a hart,

And my defires, 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 hand-maid do return this answer :
The element itself, 'till seven years hence,
Shall not behold her face at ample view;
But, like a cloystress, 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 fad 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 sov'reign thrones, are all supply'd, and fill'd,
Her sweet perfections, with one self-fame King!
Away before me to sweet beds of flowers;
Love-thoughts lye rich, when canopy'd with bowers.

(1)

So full of Shapes is Fancy,

[Exeunt.

That it alone is high fantastical.] There can be no Reason why the Duke here, who is altogether serious, and moralizing on the Qualities of Love, should tell us, that Fancy is alone the most fantastical Thing imaginable. I am perfuaded, the Alteration of is into in has given us the Poet's genuine Meaning; that Love is most fantastical, in being so variable in its Mr. Warburton, SCENE,

Fancies.

Vio.

SCENE, The Street.

Enter Viola, a Captain and Sailors.

W

HAT country, friends, is this?
Cap. Illyria, Lady.

Vio. And what should I do in Illyria?
My brother he is in Elysium.

Perchance, he is not drown'd; what think you, failors?
Cap. It is perchance, that you yourself were sav'd.
Vio. O my poor brother! 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 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 fea;
Where, like Arion on the dolphin's back,
I saw him hold acquaintance with the waves,
So long as I could fee.

Vio. For faying 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.

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 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,

E 4

That

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