Twelfth Night, Act 1, Scene 2

What country, friends, is this?

What country is this, friends?

This is Illyria, lady.

This is Illyria, my lady.

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

And what am I supposed to do in Illyria? My brother is in Elysium. Maybe he isn't drowned. What do you think, sailors?

It is perchance that you yourself were sav’d.

It was only by chance that you yourself were saved.

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

Oh, my poor brother! And so by chance he may be saved too.

True, madam; and to comfort you with chance, Assure yourself, after our ship did split, When you, and those poor number sav’d 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 liv’d 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.

True, madam; and to comfort you with the thought of chance, you can be sure that after our ship broke apart, when you and the few others saved with you were clinging to our drifting lifeboat, I saw your brother — very quick-thinking in danger — tie himself, with courage and hope both showing him how, to a stout mast that stayed afloat on the sea; and there, like Arion on the dolphin's back, I saw him keeping company with the waves for as long as I could see him.

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?

Here's gold for saying that! My own escape opens up hope in me that the same happened to him, and your account backs that hope up. Do you know this country?

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

Yes, madam, well, for I was raised and born less than three hours' journey from this very spot.

Who governs here?

Who rules here?

A noble duke, in nature as in name.

A duke who is noble in character as well as in title.

What is his name?

What is his name?

Orsino.

Orsino.

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

Orsino! I have heard my father mention him. He was unmarried 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.

And he still is now, or was very recently; for only a month ago I left here, and then it was newly being whispered — since, as you know, ordinary people chatter about whatever the great ones do — that he was seeking the love of the beautiful Olivia.

What’s she?

Who is 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 abjur’d the company And sight of men.

A virtuous young woman, the daughter of a count who died about a year ago, leaving her then in the care of his son, her brother, who died shortly afterwards too; and out of her deep love for him they say she has sworn off the company and the 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.

Oh, if only I served that lady, and did not have to be shown to the world until I had ripened my own opportunity to reveal what my position is.

That were hard to compass, Because she will admit no kind of suit, No, not the Duke’s.

That would be hard to bring about, because she will not receive any kind of petition — no, not even the Duke's.

There is a fair behaviour 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 pray thee, 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.

There is a fine manner about you, Captain; and although nature often walls in something rotten behind a beautiful surface, in your case I will believe that you have a mind that matches your handsome outward appearance. Please — and I will pay you generously — hide what I am, and help me get whatever disguise may happen to suit the shape of my plan. I will serve this duke; you will introduce me to him as a castrated singer. It may be worth your trouble, because I can sing and can speak to him in many kinds of music, which will make me well deserving of his service. Whatever else may happen, I will leave to time; only fit your silence to my scheme.

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

You be his singer and I will be your mute servant; when my tongue tells tales, then let my eyes go blind.

I thank thee. Lead me on.

Thank you. Lead the way.