Come away, come
away, Death,
And
in sad cypress let me be laid;
Fly away, fly
away, breath,
I
am slain by a fair cruel maid.
My shroud of white stuck all with yew,
O prepare it!
My part of death no one so true did share
it.
Not a flower,
not a flower sweet,
On
my black coffin let there be strewn:
Not a friend,
not a friend greet
My
poor corpse, where my bones shall be thrown.
A thousand thousand sighs to save, lay
me O where
Sad true lover never find my grave, to
weep there!
Viola did not fail to mark the words
of the old song, which in such true simplicity described
the pangs of unrequited love, and she bore testimony
in her countenance of feeling what the song expressed.
Her sad looks were observed by Orsino, who said to
her, “My life upon it, Cesario, though you are
so young, your eye has looked upon some face that
it loves: has it not, boy?” “A
little, with your leave,” replied Viola.
“And what kind of woman, and of what age is she?”
said Orsino. “Of your age and of your complexion,
my lord,” said Viola; which made the duke smile
to hear this fair young boy loved a woman so much older
than himself, and of a man’s dark complexion;
but Viola secretly meant Orsino, and not a woman like
him.
When Viola made her second visit to
Olivia, she found no difficulty in gaining access
to her. Servants soon discover when their ladies
delight to converse with handsome young messengers;
and the instant Viola arrived, the gates were thrown
wide open, and the duke’s page was shown into
Olivia’s apartment with great respect; and when
Viola told Olivia that she was come once more to plead
in her lord’s behalf, this lady said, “I
desired you never to speak of him again; but if you
would undertake another suit, I had rather hear you
solicit, than music from the spheres.”
This was pretty plain speaking, but Olivia soon explained
herself still more plainly, and openly confessed her
love; and when she saw displeasure with perplexity
expressed in Viola’s face, she said, “O
what a deal of scorn looks beautiful in the contempt
and anger of his lip! Cesario, by the roses of
the spring, by maidhood, honour, and by truth, I love
you so, that, in spite of your pride, I have neither
wit nor reason to conceal my passion.”
But in vain the lady wooed; Viola hastened from her
presence, threatening never more to come to plead
Orsino’s love; and all the reply she made to
Olivia’s fond solicitation was, a declaration
of a resolution Never to love any woman.
No sooner had Viola left the lady
than a claim was made upon her valour. A gentleman,
a rejected suitor of Olivia, who had learned how that
lady had favoured the duke’s messenger, challenged
him to fight a duel. What should poor Viola do,
who, though she carried a manlike outside, had a true
woman’s heart, and feared to look on her own
sword?
When she saw her formidable rival
advancing towards her with his sword drawn, she began
to think of confessing that she was a woman; but she
was relieved at once from her terror, and the shame
of such a discovery, by a stranger that was passing
by, who made up to them, and as if he had been long
known to her, and were her dearest friend, said to
her opponent, “If this young gentleman has done
offence, I will take the fault on me; and if you offend
him, I will for his sake defy you.” Before
Viola had time to thank him for his protection, or
to inquire the reason of his kind interference, her
new friend met with an enemy where his bravery was
of no use to him; for the officers of justice coming
up in that instant, apprehended the stranger in the
duke’s name, to answer for an offence he had
committed some years before: and he said to Viola,
“This comes with seeking you:” and
then he asked her for a purse, saying, “Now
my necessity makes me ask for my purse, and it grieves
me much more for what I cannot do for you, than for
what befalls myself. You stand amazed, but be
of comfort.” His words did indeed amaze
Viola, and she protested she knew him not, nor had
ever received a purse from him; but for the kindness
he had just shown her, she offered him a small sum
of money, being nearly the whole she possessed.
And now the stranger spoke severe things, charging
her with ingratitude and unkindness. He said,
“This youth, whom you see here, I snatched from
the jaws of death, and for his sake alone I came to
Illyria, and have fallen into this danger.”
But the officers cared little for hearkening to the
complaints of their prisoner, and they hurried him
on, saying, “What is that to us?” And
as he was carried away, he called Viola by the name
of Sebastian, reproaching the supposed Sebastian for
disowning his friend, as long as he was within hearing.
When Viola heard herself called Sebastian, though
the stranger was taken away too hastily for her to
ask an explanation, she conjectured that this seeming
mystery might arise from her being mistaken for her
brother; and she began to cherish hopes that it was
her brother whose life this man said he had preserved.
And so indeed it was. The stranger, whose name
was Antonio, was a sea-captain. He had taken
Sebastian up into his ship, when, almost exhausted
with fatigue, he was floating on the mast to which
he had fastened himself in the storm. Antonio
conceived such a friendship for Sebastian, that he
resolved to accompany him whithersoever he went; and
when the youth expressed a curiosity to visit Orsino’s
court, Antonio, rather than part from him, came to
Illyria, though he knew, if his person should be known
there, his life would be in danger, because in a sea-fight
he had once dangerously wounded the Duke Orsino’s
nephew. This was the offence for which he was
now made a prisoner.
Antonio and Sebastian had landed together
but a few hours before Antonio met Viola. He
had given his purse to Sebastian, desiring him to use
it freely if he saw anything he wished to purchase,
telling him he would wait at the inn, while Sebastian
went to view the town; but Sebastian not returning
at the time appointed, Antonio had ventured out to
look for him, and Viola being dressed the same, and
in face so exactly resembling her brother, Antonio
drew his sword (as he thought) in defence of the youth
he had saved, and when Sebastian (as he supposed)
disowned him, and denied him his own purse, no wonder
he accused him of ingratitude.
Viola, when Antonio was gone, fearing
a second invitation to fight, slunk home as fast as
she could. She had not been long gone, when her
adversary thought he saw her return; but it was her
brother Sebastian, who happened to arrive at this
place, and he said, “Now, sir, have I met with
you again? There’s for you;” and struck
him a blow. Sebastian was no coward; he returned
the blow with interest, and drew his sword.
A lady now put a stop to this duel,
for Olivia came out of the house, and she too mistaking
Sebastian for Cesario, invited him to come into her
house, expressing much sorrow at the rude attack he
had met with. Though Sebastian was as much surprised
at the courtesy of this lady as at the rudeness of
his unknown foe, yet he went very willingly into the
house, and Olivia was delighted to find Cesario (as
she thought him) become more sensible of her attentions;
for though their features were exactly the same, there
was none of the contempt and anger to be seen in his
face, which she had complained of when she told her
love to Cesario.
Sebastian did not at all object to
the fondness the lady lavished on him. He seemed
to take it in very good part, yet he wondered how it
had come to pass, and he was rather inclined to think
Olivia was not in her right senses; but perceiving
that she was mistress of a fine house, and that she
ordered her affairs and seemed to govern her family
discreetly, and that in all but her sudden love for
him she appeared in the full possession of her reason,
he well approved of the courtship; and Olivia finding
Cesario in this good humour, and fearing he might change
his mind, proposed that, as she had a priest in the
house, they should be instantly married. Sebastian
assented to this proposal; and when the marriage ceremony
was over, he left his lady for a short time, intending
to go and tell his friend Antonio the good fortune
that he had met with. In the meantime Orsino
came to visit Olivia: and at the moment he arrived
before Olivia’s house, the officers of justice
brought their prisoner, Antonio, before the duke.
Viola was with Orsino, her master; and when Antonio
saw Viola, whom he still imagined to be Sebastian,
he told the duke in what manner he had rescued this
youth from the perils of the sea; and after fully
relating all the kindness he had really shown to Sebastian,
he ended his complaint with saying, that for three
months, both day and night, this ungrateful youth had
been with him. But now the Lady Olivia coming
forth from her house, the duke could no longer attend
to Antonio’s story; and he said, “Here
comes the countess: now Heaven walks on earth!
but for thee, fellow, thy words are madness.
Three months has this youth attended on me:”
and then he ordered Antonio to be taken aside.
But Orsino’s heavenly countess soon gave the
duke cause to accuse Cesario as much of ingratitude
as Antonio had done, for all the words he could hear
Olivia speak were words of kindness to Cesario:
and when he found his page had obtained this high place
in Olivia’s favour, he threatened him with all
the terrors of his just revenge; and as he was going
to depart, he called Viola to follow him, saying,
“Come, boy, with me. My thoughts are ripe
for mischief.” Though it seemed in his
jealous rage he was going to doom Viola to instant
death, yet her love made her no longer a coward, and
she said she would most joyfully suffer death to give
her master ease. But Olivia would not so lose
her husband, and she cried, “Where goes my Cesario?”
Viola replied, “After him I love more than my
life.” Olivia, however, prevented their
departure by loudly proclaiming that Cesario was her
husband, and sent for the priest, who declared that
not two hours had passed since he had married the
Lady Olivia to this young man. In vain Viola
protested she was not married to Olivia; the evidence
of that lady and the priest made Orsino believe that
his page had robbed him of the treasure he prized
above his life. But thinking that it was past
recall, he was bidding farewell to his faithless mistress,
and the young dissembler, her husband, as he
called Viola, warning her never to come in his sight
again, when (as it seemed to them) a miracle appeared!
for another Cesario entered, and addressed Olivia
as his wife. This new Cesario was Sebastian,
the real husband of Olivia; and when their wonder
had a little ceased at seeing two persons with the
same face, the same voice, and the same habit, the
brother and sister began to question each other; for
Viola could scarce be persuaded that her brother was
living, and Sebastian knew not how to account for
the sister he supposed drowned being found in the
habit of a young man. But Viola presently acknowledged
that she was indeed Viola, and his sister, under that
disguise.
When all the errors were cleared up
which the extreme likeness between this twin brother
and sister had occasioned, they laughed at the Lady
Olivia for the pleasant mistake she had made in falling
in love with a woman; and Olivia showed no dislike
to her exchange, when she found she had wedded the
brother instead of the sister.
The hopes of Orsino were for ever
at an end by this marriage of Olivia, and with his
hopes, all his fruitless love seemed to vanish away,
and all his thoughts were fixed on the event of his
favourite, young Cesario, being changed into a fair
lady. He viewed Viola with great attention, and
he remembered how very handsome he had always thought
Cesario was, and he concluded she would look very beautiful
in a woman’s attire; and then he remembered
how often she had said she loved him, which
at the time seemed only the dutiful expressions of
a faithful page; but now he guessed that something
more was meant, for many of her pretty sayings, which
were like riddles to him, came now into his mind,
and he no sooner remembered all these things than he
resolved to make Viola his wife; and he said to her
(he still could not help calling her Cesario
and boy), “Boy, you have said to me a
thousand times that you should never love a woman
like to me, and for the faithful service you have
done for me so much beneath your soft and tender breeding,
and since you have called me master so long, you shall
now be your master’s mistress, and Orsino’s
true duchess.”
Olivia, perceiving Orsino was making
over that heart, which she had so ungraciously rejected,
to Viola, invited them to enter her house, and offered
the assistance of the good priest, who had married
her to Sebastian in the morning, to perform the same
ceremony in the remaining part of the day for Orsino
and Viola. Thus the twin brother and sister were
both wedded on the same day: the storm and shipwreck,
which had separated them, being the means of bringing
to pass their high and mighty fortunes. Viola
was the wife of Orsino, the Duke of Illyria, and Sebastian
the husband of the rich and noble countess, the Lady
Olivia.