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• Twelfth-night; Or, What You Will: Dramatis PersonÆ.
• Act I.
• Scene I.—: A Room In Theduke’spalace. Enterduke, Curio, Lords; Musicians Attending.
• Scene II.—: The Sea-coast.
• Scene III.—: A Room Inolivia’shouse.
• Scene IV.—: A Room In Theduke’spalace.
• Scene V.—: A Room Inolivia’shouse.
• Act II.
• Scene I.—: The Sea-coast.
• Scene II.—: A Street.
• Scene III.—: A Room Inolivia’shouse.
• Scene IV.—: A Room In Theduke’spalace.
• Scene V.—: Olivia’sgarden.
• Act III.
• Scene I.—: Olivia’sgarden.
• Scene II.—: A Room Inolivia’shouse.
• Scene III.—: A Street.
• Scene IV.—: Olivia’sgarden.
• Act IV.
• Scene I.—: The Street Adjoiningolivia’shouse.
• Scene II.—: A Room Inolivia’shouse.
• Scene III.—: Olivia’sgarden.
• Act V.
• Scene I.—: The Street Beforeolivia’shouse. Enter Clown Andfabian.

Scene I.—

A Room in theDuke’sPalace. EnterDuke, Curio, 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:

’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.

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 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.

EnterValentine.

How now! what news from her?

Val.

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 eve-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 flowers;

Love-thoughts lie rich when canopied with bowers.

[Exeunt.