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 possibility, be sure of this: after our ship broke apart, when you and the few others saved with you were clinging to our drifting boat, I saw your brother, very resourceful in danger, tie himself — courage and hope together teaching him what to do — to a strong mast that floated 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?

For saying that, here's gold! My own escape opens up hope in me — and your words back that hope up — that the same happened to him. 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, because I was raised and born less than three hours' travel from this very place.

Who governs here?

Who rules here?

A noble duke, in nature as in name.

A noble duke, noble in his nature as well as in his 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, or was very recently; because only a month ago I left here, and then it was newly being whispered — and you know how the lesser sort chatter about what great people 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 also died soon after; and out of dear 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 could serve that lady, and not 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 accept no kind of approach — 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 good, honest manner about you, Captain; and although nature often shuts up rottenness behind a beautiful wall, in your case I will believe that you have a mind that matches this fine outward appearance of yours. Please — and I'll pay you generously — hide what I am, and help me get whatever disguise may suit the shape of my plan. I'll serve this duke; you will present me to him as a eunuch. It may be worth your trouble, because I can sing and speak to him in many kinds of music, which will make me well worth his service. Whatever else may happen, I'll leave to time; only shape your silence to fit my scheme.

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

Be his eunuch, and I'll be your mute; if my tongue ever tells, then let my eyes go blind.

I thank thee. Lead me on.

Thank you. Lead the way.