Twelfth Night, Or What You Will
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William Shakespeare
William Shakespeare is the world's greatest ever playwright. Born in 1564, he split his time between Stratford-upon-Avon and London, where he worked as a playwright, poet and actor. In 1582 he married Anne Hathaway. Shakespeare died in 1616 at the age of fifty-two, leaving three children—Susanna, Hamnet and Judith. The rest is silence.
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Reviews for Twelfth Night, Or What You Will
1,981 ratings1 review
- Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5I'm rarely let down by an Arden edition, but this one is almost the exception. No, that's being too cruel, but...
As always, the quality of the text, the depth of the notes, the discussion of editorial issues, and the bibliography are immaculate. You couldn't ask for a greater scholarly resource and overall "cheat sheet" to one of the Bard's works. At the same time, the introduction is a rare letdown for this series. Overall, the Ardens inhabit an awkward gray area between scholarly pursuits - reading in to every line, letter, and semi-colon - and general accessibility. Inevitably when examining a work at this level of detail, academia will rear its ugly head. At the same time, the Arden editors have wisely made each introduction an overall analysis, leaving the more scholarly notes for the bibliography. After all, this kind of opaque discussion is more the purview of scholarly articles and papers rather than published editions of the play. The massive bibliographies are vital, and they lead those of us with scholarly minds down that path. Unfortunately, this work is dry and hermeneutic from page one. (This might seem like a silly complaint, but when these introductions clock in at 150 dense pages, it's important they work well.)
So, I can't complain about the high standard of the text, but unfortunately I'll be seeking out alternative "Twelfth Night" editions for an overview.
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Twelfth Night, Or What You Will - William Shakespeare
Twelfth Night
William Shakespeare
Copyright © 2018 by OPU
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Act I
SCENE I. DUKE ORSINO's palace.
Enter DUKE ORSINO, CURIO, and other Lords; Musicians attending
DUKE ORSINO
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.
CURIO
Will you go hunt, my lord?
DUKE ORSINO
What, Curio?
CURIO
The hart.
DUKE ORSINO
Why, so I do, the noblest that I have:
O, when mine eyes did see Olivia first,
Methought she purged 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 ORSINO
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
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 saved.
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 saved with you
Hung on our driving boat, I saw your brother,
Most provident in peril, bind himself,
Courage and hope both teaching him the practise,
To a strong mast that lived 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 the 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 abjured the company
And sight of men.
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!
Captain
That were hard to compass;
Because she will admit no kind of suit,
No, not the duke's.
VIOLA
There is a fair behavior 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 shall 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.
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 BELCH
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 BELCH
Why, let her except, before excepted.
MARIA
Ay, but you must confine yourself within the modest
limits of order.
SIR TOBY BELCH
Confine! I'll confine myself no finer than I am:
these clothes are good enough to drink in; and so be
these boots too: an 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