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Olivia , a countess , resisting Orsino's wooing Malvolio , steward to Olivia Maria , a Lady in waiting in Olivia's household Sir Toby Belch , Olivia's drunken uncle Fabian , a servant and friend to Sir Toby
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Olivia, a countess, resistingOrsino'swooing Malvolio, steward to Olivia Maria, a Lady in waiting in Olivia'shousehold Sir TobyBelch, Olivia'sdrunkenuncle Fabian, a servant and friend to Sir Toby Sir Andrew Aguecheek, a simplemindedcompanion of Sir Toby's, wooing Olivia Feste, Olivia'sjester Viola, castaway, disguised as a man called Cesario, in service to Orsino Sebastian, castaway, twin brother to Viola, thought dead Antonio, a captain and friend to Sebastian A sea captain, friend to Viola Orsino, Duke of Illyria, wooing Olivia Valentine, gentleman attending on Duke Orsino Curio, gentleman attending on Duke Orsino
Duke Orsino, I, 1, 1-15 If music be the food of love, play on; Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting, The appetite may sicken, and so die. That strain again! it had a dying fall: O, it came o'er my ear like the sweet sound, That breathes upon a bank of violets, Stealing and giving odour! Enough; no more: 'Tis not so sweet now as it was before. O spirit of love! how quick and fresh art thou, That, notwithstanding thy capacity Receiveth as the sea, nought enters there, Of what validity and pitch soe'er, But falls into abatement and low price, Even in a minute: so full of shapes is fancy That it alone is high fantastical. 2 3 1
Violaa sea captain, 1.2,51-60 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 shall 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. Viola sulla professione del Clown: «Dost thou live by the tabor?», 3.1,211.2 (740) Olivia a Viola e la «music from the spheres», 3.1,108-112 (748) Olivia a Viola sull’«oldtune» di Orsino, 5.1,109-111 (812)
Clown(cantatra Toby e Andrew), 2.3,40-53 (706-7) O mistress mine, where are you roaming?O, stay and hear; your true love's coming,That can sing both high and low:Trip no further, pretty sweeting;Journeys end in lovers meeting,Every wise man's son doth know. […]What is love? 'tis not hereafter;Present mirth hath present laughter;What's to come is still unsure:In delay there lies no plenty;Then come kiss me, sweet and twenty,Youth's a stuff will not endure. Clown(canta a Orsino), 2.4,50-65 (720-2) 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 strown; 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!
Clown(canta a Malvolio), 4.2,74ff (798) Hey, Robin, jolly Robin, Tell me how thy lady does. […] My lady is unkind, perdy. […]Alas, why is she so?[…] She loves another […] Clown (canta a tutti e chiude), 5.1,392ff (832-834) When that I was and a little tiny boy, With hey, ho, the wind and the rain, A foolish thing was but a toy,For the rain it raineth every day. But when I came to man's estate, With hey, ho, & c.'Gainst knaves and thieves men shut their gate, For the rain, & c. But when I came, alas! to wive, With hey, ho, & c.By swaggering could I never thrive, For the rain, & c. But when I came unto my beds, With hey, ho, & c.With toss-pots still had drunken heads, For the rain, & c. A great while ago the world begun, With hey, ho, & c.But that's all one, our play is done, And we'll strive to please you every day. Clown(canta a Malvolio), 4.2,123ff (800-1) I am gone, sir, and anon, sir, I'll be with you again, In a trice, like to the old Vice, Your need to sustain; Who, with dagger of lath, in his rage and his wrath, Cries, ah, ha! to the devil: Like a mad lad, pare thy nails, dad; Adieu, good man devil.