The Sea-coast. |
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Enter VIOLA, Captain, and Sailors. |
Vio. What country, friends, is this? |
Cap. This is 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 sailors? |
Cap. It is perchance that you yourself were sav'd. |
Vio. O my poor brother! and so perchance may he be. |
Cap. 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. |
Vio. 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? |
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. Orsino. |
Vio. Orsino! I have heard my father name him: |
He was a bachelor then. |
Cap. 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. |
Vio. What's she? |
Cap. 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. |
Vio. O! that I serv'd that lady, |
And might not be deliver'd to the world, |
Till I had made mine own occasion mellow, |
What my estate is. |
Cap. That were hard to compass, |
Because she will admit no kind of suit, |
No, not the duke's. |
Vio. 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 bountously,— |
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 a 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. |
Cap. Be you his eunuch, and your mute I'll be: |
When my tongue blabs, then let mine eyes not see. |
Vio. I thank thee: lead me on. [Exeunt. |
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