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                             TWELFTH NIGHT;
                                  OR,
                             WHAT YOU WILL.


                               A COMEDY.

                             IN FIVE ACTS;

                         BY WILLIAM SHAKSPEARE.

                               REVISED BY
                             J. P. KEMBLE.


                        AS NOW PERFORMED AT THE
                     THEATRE ROYAL, COVENT-GARDEN.


                                LONDON:

                PRINTED FOR LONGMAN, HURST, REES, ORME, AND
                        BROWN, PATERNOSTER-ROW.




                               EDINBURGH:

                  Printed by James Ballantyne and Co.




                           DRAMATIS PERSONAE.


    DUKE ORSINO                             _Mr Barrymore_.
    VALENTINE                               _Mr Claremont_.
    CURIO                                   _Mr Treby_.
    SIR TOBY BELCH                          _Mr Emery_.
    SIR ANDREW AGUE-CHEEK                   _Mr Munden_.
    SEBASTIAN                               _Mr Hamerton_.
    ANTONIO                                 _Mr Cresswell_.
    ROBERTO                                 _Mr Jefferies_.
    FRIAR                                   _Mr Atkins_.
    MALVOLIO                                _Mr Liston_.
    CLOWN                                   _Mr Fawcett_.
    FABIAN                                  _Mr Farley_.
    FIRST OFFICER                           _Mr King_.
    SECOND OFFICER                          _Mr Lambert_.

    OLIVIA                                  _Mrs C. Kemble_.
    VIOLA                                   _Miss S. Booth_.
    MARIA                                   _Mrs Gibbs_.

             _Gentlemen.--Musicians.--Sailors.--Servants._

         SCENE--_A City in Illyria, and the Sea-coast near it._




                             TWELFTH NIGHT;

                                  OR,

                             WHAT YOU WILL.


                             ACT THE FIRST.


                                SCENE I.

                            _The Sea-coast._

      _Enter_ VIOLA, ROBERTO, _and two Sailors, carrying a Trunk_.

    _Vio._ What country, friends, is this?

    _Rob._ 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?

    _Rob._ It is perchance, that you yourself were saved.

    _Vio._ O my poor brother! and so, perchance may he be.

    _Rob._ True, madam; and, to comfort you with chance,
  Assure yourself, after our ship did split,
  When you, and that 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 practice)
  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.

    _Vio._ Mine own escape unfoldeth to my hope,
  Whereto thy speech serves for authority,
  The like of him. Know'st thou this country?

    _Rob._ Ay, madam, well; for I was bred and born,
  Not three hours travel from this very place.

    _Vio._ Who governs here?

    _Rob._ A noble duke, in nature,
  As in his name.

    _Vio._ What is his name?

    _Rob._ Orsino.

    _Vio._ Orsino!--I have heard my father name him:
  He was a bachelor then.

    _Rob._ 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 is she?

    _Rob._ 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.

    _Vio._ Oh, that I served that lady!
  And might not be deliver'd to the world,
  Till I had made mine own occasion mellow,
  What my estate is!

    _Rob._ 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, I believe, thou hast a mind that suits
  With this thy fair and outward character.
  I pray