Twelfth Night Or, What You Will (Illustrated) E-Book

William Shakespeare

• Herausgeber: BookRix
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2014

Beschreibung

Twelfth Night; or, What You Will is a comedy by William Shakespeare, believed to have been written around 1601–02 as a Twelfth Night's entertainment for the close of the Christmas season. The play expanded on the musical interludes and riotous disorder expected of the occasion, with plot elements drawn from the short story "Of Apollonius and Silla" by Barnabe Rich, based on a story by Matteo Bandello. The first recorded performance was on 2 February 1602, at Candlemas, the formal end of Christmastide in the year's calendar. The play was not published until its inclusion in the 1623 First Folio.

Leseprobe

William Shakespeare

Twelfth Night Or, What You Will (Illustrated)

BookRix GmbH & Co. KG81371 Munich

DRAMATIS PERSONAE

ORSINO, Duke of Illyria

SEBASTIAN, brother to Viola

ANTONIO, a sea captain, friend to Sebastian

A SEA CAPTAIN, friend to Viola

VALENTINE, gentleman attending on the Duke

CURIO, gentleman attending on the Duke

SIR TOBY BELCH, uncle to Olivia

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 sea-coast 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 sea-coast.

[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.

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 prithee, 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 silence to my wit.

CAPTAIN.

Be you his eunuch, and your mute I'll be;

When my tongue blabs, then let mine eyes not see.

VIOLA.

I thank thee; lead me on.

[Exeunt.]

SCENE III.

OLIVIA'S house.

[Enter SIR TOBY BELCH and MARIA.]

SIR TOBY.

What a plague means my niece, to take the death of her brother

thus? I am sure care's an enemy to life.

MARIA.

By my troth, Sir Toby, you must come in earlier o' nights; your

cousin, my lady, takes great exceptions to your ill hours.

SIR TOBY.

Why, let her except before excepted.

MARIA.

Ay, but you must confine yourself within the modest limits of

order.

SIR TOBY.

Confine! I'll confine myself no finer than I am. These clothes

are good enough to drink in, and so be these boots too; and they

be not, let them hang themselves in their own straps.

MARIA.

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 TOBY.

Who, Sir Andrew Aguecheek?

MARIA.

Ay, he.

SIR TOBY.

He's as tall a man as any's in Illyria.

MARIA.

What's that to th' purpose?

SIR TOBY.

Why, he has three thousand ducats a year.

MARIA.

Ay, but he'll have but a year in all these ducats; he's a very

fool and a prodigal.

SIR TOBY.

Fie, that you'll say so! he plays o' th' viol-de-gamboys, and

speaks three or four languages word for word without book, and

hath all the good gifts of nature.

MARIA.

He hath indeed, almost natural; for, besides that he's a fool,

he's a great quarreller; and but that he hath the gift of a

coward to allay the gust he hath in quarrelling, 'tis thought

among the prudent he would quickly have the gift of a grave.

SIR TOBY.

By this hand, they are scoundrels and subtractors that say so of

him. Who are they?

MARIA.

They that add, moreover, he's drunk nightly in your company.

SIR TOBY.

With drinking healths to my niece. I'll drink to her as long as

there is a passage in my throat and drink in Illyria: he's a

coward and a coystrill that will not drink to my niece

till his brains turn o' th' toe like a parish-top. What, wench!

Castiliano vulgo! for here comes Sir Andrew Agueface.

[Enter SIR ANDREW AGUECHEEK.]

SIR ANDREW.

Sir Toby Belch; how now, Sir Toby Belch!

SIR TOBY.

Sweet Sir Andrew!

SIR ANDREW.

Bless you, fair shrew.

MARIA.

And you too, sir.

SIR TOBY.

Accost, Sir Andrew, accost.

SIR ANDREW.

What's that?

SIR TOBY.

My niece's chambermaid.

SIR ANDREW.

Good Mistress Accost, I desire better acquaintance.

MARIA.

My name is Mary, sir.

SIR ANDREW.

Good Mistress Mary Accost,--

SIR TOBY.

You mistake, knight; 'accost' is front her, board her, woo her,

assail her.

SIR ANDREW.

By my troth, I would not undertake her in this company. Is that

the meaning of 'accost'?

MARIA.

Fare you well, gentlemen.

SIR TOBY.

An thou let part so, Sir Andrew, would thou mightst never draw

sword again.

SIR ANDREW.

And you part so, mistress, I would I might never draw sword

again. Fair lady, do you think you have fools in hand?

MARIA.

Sir, I have not you by th' hand.

SIR ANDREW.

Marry, but you shall have; and here's my hand.

MARIA.

Now, sir, 'thought is free.' I pray you, bring your hand to th'

buttery-bar and let it drink.

SIR ANDREW.

Wherefore, sweet-heart? what's your metaphor?

MARIA.

It's dry, sir.

SIR ANDREW.

Why, I think so; I am not such an ass but I can keep my hand dry.

But what's your jest?

MARIA.

A dry jest, sir.

SIR ANDREW.

Are you full of them?

MARIA.

Ay, sir, I have them at my fingers' ends; marry, now I let go

your hand, I am barren.

[Exit.]

SIR TOBY.

O knight, thou lack'st a cup of canary; when did I see thee so

put down?

SIR ANDREW.

Never in your life, I think; unless you see canary put me down.

Methinks sometimes I have no more wit than a Christian or an

ordinary man has; but I am a great eater of beef, and I

believe that does harm to my wit.

SIR TOBY.

No question.

SIR ANDREW.

And I thought that, I'd forswear it. I'll ride home to-morrow,

Sir Toby.

SIR TOBY.

Pourquoi, my dear knight?

SIR ANDREW.

What is 'pourquoi'? do or not do? I would I had bestow'd that

time in the tongues that I have in fencing, dancing, and

bear-baiting! O, had I but follow'd the arts!

SIR TOBY.

Then hadst thou had an excellent head of hair.

SIR ANDREW.

Why, would that have mended my hair?

SIR TOBY.

Past question; for thou seest it will not curl by nature.

SIR ANDREW.

But it becomes me well enough, does't not?

SIR TOBY.

Excellent; it hangs like flax on a distaff.

SIR ANDREW.

Faith, I'll home to-morrow, Sir Toby. Your niece will not be

seen; or, if she be, it's four to one she'll none of me: the

count himself here hard by wooes her.

SIR TOBY.

She'll none o' th' count. She'll not match above her degree,

neither in estate, years, nor wit; I have heard her swear't. Tut,

there's life in't, man.

SIR ANDREW.

I'll stay a month longer. I am a fellow o' th' strangest mind i'

th' world; I delight in masques and revels sometimes altogether.

SIR TOBY.

Art thou good at these kickshawses, knight?

SIR ANDREW.

As any man in Illyria, whatsoever he be, under the degree of my

betters; and yet I will not compare with an old man.

SIR TOBY.