If the duke continue these favours towards you, Cesario, you are like
to be much advanced; he hath known you but three days, and already you
are no stranger.
If this free and generous young woman is taken with Cesario, you'll find she'll soon lose her melancholy.
If this open-hearted girl likes Cesario, I'm telling you she'll snap out of her whole grieving thing real fast.
if she likes cesario she forgets the grief quick
You either fear his humour or my negligence, that you call in question
the continuance of his love. Is he inconstant, sir, in his favours?
I think not so, my lord.
I don't know, my lord. I doubt it.
i doubt it
No, believe me.
Dear lad, believe yourself. Go to her with this jewel. Tell her it came from me. Say I cannot be unseen while she lives, as long as you speak for me. Be not afraid or ashamed. You have a pretty face.
Trust me, kid. Go give her this jewel and say it's from me. Tell her I can't just forget about her—I'll be thinking of her forever. You speak for me, alright? Don't be nervous or shy about it. You've got a good face.
go give her the jewel say its from me im not giving up speak for me dont be scared you look good
Valentine tells us Viola has been in Orsino's service only three days. In that time, the Duke has opened 'the book of his secret soul' to her and is now sending her on his most personal errand. The speed is deliberate. Illyria runs on desire and passion; time moves differently here than in the real world. This is consistent with the play's broader theme: things happen in Twelfth Night with the velocity of infatuation. Olivia will fall for Cesario in one meeting. Sebastian will agree to marry a stranger the same day he meets her. Orsino will pivot his love from Olivia to Viola in the course of a single final scene. The play understands that desire doesn't wait — and Illyria honors that.
I thank you. Here comes the Count.
That's not so. Go to, go!
No way. Come on, get out of here!
go on go
Who saw Cesario, ho?
Who saw Cesario, ho?
who saw cesario, ho?
Who saw Cesario, ho?
On your attendance, my lord, here.
On your attendance, my lord, here.
on your attendance, my lord, here.
On your attendance, my lord, here.
Orsino describes Cesario as having a 'maiden's organ' and looking like 'a woman's part' — and uses this as the reason Viola will be a good ambassador of love. He's right, but entirely wrong about why. She'll be effective with Olivia not because she looks young and unthreatening, but because she genuinely is a woman, genuinely understands romantic longing, and will accidentally be charming in a way no male messenger could be. Orsino's blindness here is the play's central joke taken to its peak: he sends a woman to woo a woman, thinking he's sending a boy. Every advantage he identifies is an advantage Viola has for a reason he doesn't know. The play will spend three acts making him gradually realize what he almost sees right here.
Stand you awhile aloof.—Cesario,
Thou know’st no less but all; I have unclasp’d
To thee the book even of my secret soul.
Therefore, good youth, address thy gait unto her,
Be not denied access, stand at her doors,
And tell them, there thy fixed foot shall grow
Till thou have audience.
Stand you awhile aloof.—Cesario, Thou know’st no less but all; I have unclasp’d To thee the book even of my secret soul. Therefore, good youth, address your gait unto her, Be not denied access, stand at her doors, And tell them, there your fixed foot shall grow Till you have audience.
stand you awhile aloof.—cesario, you know’st no less but all; i have unclasp’d to thee the book even of my secret soul. therefore, good youth, address your gait unto her, be not denied access, stand at her doors, and tell them, there your fixed foot shall grow till you have audience.
Stand you awhile aloof.—Cesario, Thou know’st no less but all; I have unclasp’d To thee the book even of my secret soul.
Sure, my noble lord,
If she be so abandon’d to her sorrow
As it is spoke, she never will admit me.
Sure, my noble lord, If she be so abandon’d to her sorrow As it is spoke, she never will admit me.
sure, my noble lord, if she be so abandon’d to her sorrow as it is spoke, she never will admit me.
Sure, my noble lord, If she be so abandon’d to her sorrow As it is spoke, she never will admit me.
Be clamorous and leap all civil bounds,
Rather than make unprofited return.
Be clamorous and leap all civil bounds, Rather than make unprofited return.
be clamorous and leap all civil bounds, rather than make unprofited return.
Be clamorous and leap all civil bounds, Rather than make unprofited return.
Say I do speak with her, my lord, what then?
Say I do speak with her, my lord, what then?
say i do speak with her, my lord, what then?
Say I do speak with her, my lord, what then?
When Viola speaks her aside — 'yet, a barful strife! Whoe'er I woo, myself would be his wife' — she steps out of the fictional scene and into the audience's confidence. This is one of theatre's most powerful tools: the character who tells us what they can't tell anyone else. In Shakespeare's theatre, this was especially potent because there was no fourth wall — the groundlings were two feet from the stage, and an actor speaking a whispered aside was genuinely confiding in them. The aside creates complicity. We now know something no one else in the play knows: Viola is in love with Orsino. That knowledge will make every subsequent scene with the two of them almost unbearable, because we know what's at stake while he doesn't.
O then unfold the passion of my love,
Surprise her with discourse of my dear faith;
It shall become thee well to act my woes;
She will attend it better in thy youth,
Than in a nuncio’s of more grave aspect.
O then unfold the passion of my love, Surprise her with discourse of my dear faith; It shall become thee well to act my woes; She will attend it better in your youth, Than in a nuncio’s of more grave aspect.
o then unfold the passion of my love, surprise her with discourse of my dear faith; it shall become thee well to act my woes; she will attend it better in your youth, than in a nuncio’s of more grave aspect.
O then unfold the passion of my love, Surprise her with discourse of my dear faith; It shall become thee well to act my woes;
I think not so, my lord.
I think not so, my lord.
i think not so, my lord.
I think not so, my lord.
Dear lad, believe it;
For they shall yet belie thy happy years,
That say thou art a man: Diana’s lip
Is not more smooth and rubious; thy small pipe
Is as the maiden’s organ, shrill and sound,
And all is semblative a woman’s part.
I know thy constellation is right apt
For this affair. Some four or five attend him:
All, if you will; for I myself am best
When least in company. Prosper well in this,
And thou shalt live as freely as thy lord,
To call his fortunes thine.
Dear lad, believe it; For they shall yet belie your happy years, That say you art a man: Diana’s lip Is not more smooth and rubious; your small pipe Is as the maiden’s organ, shrill and sound, And all is semblative a woman’s part. I know your constellation is right apt For this affair. Some four or five attend him: All, if you will; for I myself am best When least in company. Prosper well in this, And you shalt live as freely as your lord, To call his fortunes thine.
dear lad, believe it; for they shall yet belie your happy years, that say you art a man: diana’s lip is not more smooth and rubious; your small pipe is as the maiden’s organ, shrill and sound, and all is semblative a woman’s part. i know your constellation is right apt for this affair. some four or five attend him: all, if you will; for i myself am best when least in company. prosper well in this, and you shalt live as freely as your lord, to call his fortunes thine.
Dear lad, believe it; For they shall yet belie thy happy years, That say thou art a man: Diana’s lip
I’ll do my best
To woo your lady. [_Aside._] Yet, a barful strife!
Whoe’er I woo, myself would be his wife.
I’ll do my best To woo your lady. [_Aside._] Yet, a barful strife! Whoe’er I woo, myself would be his wife.
i’ll do my best to woo your lady. [_aside._] yet, a barful strife! whoe’er i woo, myself would be his wife.
I’ll do my best To woo your lady. [_Aside._] Yet, a barful strife! Whoe’er I woo, myself would be his wife.
The Reckoning
This is the scene where the trap closes on Viola. She has been in the Duke's service just three days and already he trusts her with his deepest secrets and his most important errand. The dramatic irony is almost unbearable: Orsino sends the woman who loves him to woo the woman who will never love him. Viola agrees, because she has no choice. The aside at the end — 'yet, a barful strife! / Whoe'er I woo, myself would be his wife' — lands with quiet devastation. She's going to do her job perfectly, which will only make her situation worse.
If this happened today…
You've been at a new job three days and your boss — who is brilliant, charismatic, and exactly your type — already trusts you more than anyone on his team. He pulls you aside and says: 'I need you to personally reach out to this person I'm in love with and convince her to date me. You're perfect for this because you're young and charming.' You smile and say yes, because what else do you do? Then you sit in your car for a minute before you start the engine.