SCENE I.

_The Sea-coast._

_Enter_ VIOLA, ROBERTO, _and two Sailors, carrying a Trunk_.

_Vio._ What country, friends, is this?

_Rob._ This is Illyria, lady.

_Vio._ And what should I do in Illyria? My brother he is in Elysium. Perchance, he is not drown'd:--What think you, sailors?

_Rob._ It is perchance, that you yourself were saved.

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

_Rob._ True, madam; and, to comfort you with chance, Assure yourself, after our ship did split, When you, and that poor number saved 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 lived 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.

_Vio._ Mine own escape unfoldeth to my hope, Whereto thy speech serves for authority, The like of him. Know'st thou this country?

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

_Vio._ Who governs here?

_Rob._ A noble duke, in nature, As in his name.

_Vio._ What is his name?

_Rob._ Orsino.

_Vio._ Orsino!--I have heard my father name him: He was a bachelor then.

_Rob._ 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.

_Vio._ What is she?

_Rob._ 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 abjured the company And sight of men.

_Vio._ Oh, that I served that lady! And might not be deliver'd to the world, Till I had made mine own occasion mellow, What my estate is!

_Rob._ That were hard to compass; Because she will admit no kind of suit, No, not the duke's.

_Vio._ There is a fair behaviour in thee, captain; And, I 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 a page unto him, Of gentle breeding, and my name, Cesario:-- That trunk, the reliques of my sea-drown'd brother, Will furnish man's apparel to my need:-- 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.

_Rob._ Be you his page, and I your mute will be; When my tongue blabs, then let mine eyes not see!

_Vio._ I thank thee:--Lead me on. [_Exeunt._