Twelfth Night

1

In ancient Illyria lived a duke named Orsino who pined for the love of a noblewoman named Olivia.

Alas, Olivia loved him not.

Moping in his courtroom, Orsino cried to his musicians, "If music be the food of love, play on! Give me more than I can hold. Perhaps then this appetite will sicken and die."

So he sat, wrapped in music and sorrow, waiting for the messenger he had sent to carry his words of love to Olivia. But when the man returned, he shook his head sadly. "She would not even let me in. Her handmaid says the lady mourns her brother’s recent death, and will do so for seven years."

The duke groaned, but still hoped to turn Olivia’s heart. "If she pays such a debt of love to but a brother, how much more might she love a man such as me?"

Not far away another young woman also mourned a lost brother. This was Viola, who had washed up on Illyria’s coast after a shipwreck. Alas, her twin, Sebastian, was nowhere to be seen.

"Take heart," said the captain of the sunken vessel, who had also made it to shore. "Your brother may yet live. After our ship did split, I saw him bind himself to a strong mast."

"May that be so!" cried Viola. She glanced around fearfully. "Know you this country?"

"I was born not three hours’ travel from this beach. The land is governed by a noble duke, Orsino by name. When I set sail, it was rumored he sought the love of Lady Olivia. But she is lost in mourning and will not answer him."

Viola sighed. "Would that I served that lady, and might weep with her until my own situation comes clear. It is not good for a woman to be alone in a strange land."

"Olivia’s home would be a safe place for you," agreed the captain. "But the lady gives audience to no one."

"Then mayhap it is the duke I should serve."

"He has no women in his court!" said the startled captain.

"Then I will come to him disguised as a man," replied Viola, seized by her idea. "I can sing to him in many sorts of music that will make me worthy of his service."

With the captain’s help Viola cut her long hair and put on men’s attire. Then they traveled to the court of Duke Orsino, where the captain introduced her as "Cesario."

As time passed, Orsino found something strangely appealing about this Cesario, who listened so much more sympathetically than his other men. Soon he decided the newcomer should be the one to carry his latest message of love to Olivia. Taking the youth by the hand, the duke said urgently, "I have unclasped the secret book of my soul to you. Carry those words to her I love. Stand rooted at her door until you are granted audience. She will attend you better for thy youth."

"I think not so, my lord," said Viola modestly.

"Dear lad, believe it. Your youth gives you a beauty that is almost . . . womanly. It will soften her."

"I’ll do my best," promised Viola. But her heart was heavy, for she herself was falling in love with the duke!

As for the Lady Olivia, her mourning was made more difficult by her drunken uncle, Sir Toby Belch, who had brought to the household a tall and tremulous suitor named Sir Andrew Aguecheek. Like Orsino, Sir Andrew hoped to win the hand of Olivia––a task made more difficult in his case by the fact that he was a coward and a fool. But he had a great deal of money to spend, so Sir Toby happily encouraged the hopeless suit.

Olivia’s maid, Maria, as clever as Sir Andrew was dull, tolerated their presence for another reason: She had a secret liking for Sir Toby.

It was Maria who brought word that a handsome youth stood at the gates, wishing to speak to Olivia.

"What is he who is at the gate?" Olivia asked Sir Toby, who had staggered in behind Maria.

"A (hic) gentleman," said Sir Toby. He covered his mouth. "A plague on these pickled herrings!" he cried, trying to pretend he had not been drinking.

Before he could say more, Olivia’s steward, Malvolio, came bustling in. he was a sour man, with no taste for Sir Toby’s foolery.

"Malvolio, what can you tell me of this caller?" asked Olivia, who was beginning to grow exasperated.

"Not yet old enough for a man, nor young enough for a boy," said Malvolio, sniffing a bit. "One would think his mother’s milk were scarce out of him. Yet he stands like a post at the gate, and claims he will not be moved until you see him."

Intrigued, Olivia said, "Let him approach. Maria, bring my veil that I might hide my face."

When Viola entered, she began eagerly, "Most radiant, exquisite, and unmatchable beauty––" She stopped and turned to Maria. "Pray, tell me if this be the lady of the house. I would hate to cast away my speech."

"I am that lady," said Olivia. "You may pass over the empty praise."

Viola shook her head. "Alas, I took great pains to study it, and ’tis poetical. But it is secret, and concerns your ear alone."

Something in the youth’s manner appealed to Olivia, so she sent Maria away. Then, at Viola’s request, she removed her veil. Viola’s heart sank when she saw Olivia’s beauty. Yet she did not turn from her mission. Speaking with honesty and passion about the duke’s love, she chastised Olivia for being hard-hearted. "If I did love you in my master’s flame–– with such suffering, such passion––then in your denial I would find no sense."

"What would you do?" asked Olivia.

"Make me a willow cabin at your gate. Write aching songs of rejected love and sing them loud. Cry your name to the echoing hills, until the babbling gossip of the air replied ‘Olivia, Olivia, Olivia!’"

With these words and more, Viola moved Olivia’s heart, but not in the way she intended. No sooner had the lady dismissed the handsome lad than she longed to see him again. Pulling a ring from her finger, she called Malvolio and said, "That peevish messenger left this token. Tell him I won’t take it, and if he’ll come this way tomorrow, I’ll tell him why." With this ruse, she hoped to bring the youth back.

Eager to please his lady, Malvolio hurried after "Cesario." When the youth would not accept the ring, Malvolio flung it to the ground. "If it be worth stooping for, there it lies!" he snapped. Then he stalked away, huffing indignantly.

Viola knelt to retrieve the ring, and with a sudden chill realized what it meant. Clutching it to her breast, she murmured, "Disguise, I see thou art a wickedness. Look what now has come to pass. I love my master, who knows not I am a woman. He in turn loves Olivia. And she, thinking me a man, has come to dote on me instead of him! O Time, thou must untangle this, not I; it is too hard a knot for me to untie."