Twelfth Night, Act I · Scene IIThe sea-coast of Illyria.

What country, friends, is this?

This is Illyria, lady.

And what should I do in Illyria? My brother he is in Elysium. Perchance he is not drown'd: what think you, sailors?

It is perchance that you yourself were saved.

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

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.

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?

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

Who governs here?

A noble duke, in nature as in name.

What is the name?

Orsino.

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

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.

What's she?

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.

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!

That were hard to compass; Because she will admit no kind of suit, No, not the duke's.

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 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 thy silence to my wit.

Be you his eunuch, and your mute I'll be: When my tongue blabs, let mine eyes not see.

I thank thee: lead me on.