Speeches (Lines) for Viola
in "Twelfth Night"
Total: 121

1

I,2,48

What country, friends, is this?

2

I,2,50

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

3

I,2,54

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

4

I,2,65

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?

5

I,2,71

Who governs here?

6

I,2,73

What is the name?

7

I,2,75

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

8

I,2,82

What's she?

9

I,2,89

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!

10

I,2,96

There is a fair behavior 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 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.

11

I,2,113

I thank thee: lead me on.

12

I,4,250

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?

13

I,4,254

I thank you. Here comes the count.

14

I,4,257

On your attendance, my lord; here.

15

I,4,265

Sure, my noble lord,
If she be so abandon'd to her sorrow
As it is spoke, she never will admit me.

16

I,4,270

Say I do speak with her, my lord, what then?

17

I,4,276

I think not so, my lord.

18

I,4,289

I'll do my best
To woo your lady:
[Aside]
yet, a barful strife!
Whoe'er I woo, myself would be his wife.

19

I,5,461

The honourable lady of the house, which is she?

20

I,5,464

Most radiant, exquisite and unmatchable beauty,—I
pray you, tell me if this be the lady of the house,
for I never saw her: I would be loath to cast away
my speech, for besides that it is excellently well
penned, I have taken great pains to con it. Good
beauties, let me sustain no scorn; I am very
comptible, even to the least sinister usage.

21

I,5,472

I can say little more than I have studied, and that
question's out of my part. Good gentle one, give me
modest assurance if you be the lady of the house,
that I may proceed in my speech.

22

I,5,477

No, my profound heart: and yet, by the very fangs
of malice I swear, I am not that I play. Are you
the lady of the house?

23

I,5,481

Most certain, if you are she, you do usurp
yourself; for what is yours to bestow is not yours
to reserve. But this is from my commission: I will
on with my speech in your praise, and then show you
the heart of my message.

24

I,5,487

Alas, I took great pains to study it, and 'tis poetical.

25

I,5,495

No, good swabber; I am to hull here a little
longer. Some mollification for your giant, sweet
lady. Tell me your mind: I am a messenger.

26

I,5,500

It alone concerns your ear. I bring no overture of
war, no taxation of homage: I hold the olive in my
hand; my words are as fun of peace as matter.

27

I,5,504

The rudeness that hath appeared in me have I
learned from my entertainment. What I am, and what I
would, are as secret as maidenhead; to your ears,
divinity, to any other's, profanation.

28

I,5,511

Most sweet lady,—

29

I,5,514

In Orsino's bosom.

30

I,5,516

To answer by the method, in the first of his heart.

31

I,5,518

Good madam, let me see your face.

32

I,5,525

Excellently done, if God did all.

33

I,5,527

'Tis beauty truly blent, whose red and white
Nature's own sweet and cunning hand laid on:
Lady, you are the cruell'st she alive,
If you will lead these graces to the grave
And leave the world no copy.

34

I,5,539

I see you what you are, you are too proud;
But, if you were the devil, you are fair.
My lord and master loves you: O, such love
Could be but recompensed, though you were crown'd
The nonpareil of beauty!

35

I,5,545

With adorations, fertile tears,
With groans that thunder love, with sighs of fire.

36

I,5,554

If I did love you in my master's flame,
With such a suffering, such a deadly life,
In your denial I would find no sense;
I would not understand it.

37

I,5,559

Make me a willow cabin at your gate,
And call upon my soul within the house;
Write loyal cantons of contemned love
And sing them loud even in the dead of night;
Halloo your name to the reverberate hills
And make the babbling gossip of the air
Cry out 'Olivia!' O, You should not rest
Between the elements of air and earth,
But you should pity me!

38

I,5,570

Above my fortunes, yet my state is well:
I am a gentleman.

39

I,5,577

I am no fee'd post, lady; keep your purse:
My master, not myself, lacks recompense.
Love make his heart of flint that you shall love;
And let your fervor, like my master's, be
Placed in contempt! Farewell, fair cruelty.

40

II,2,659

Even now, sir; on a moderate pace I have since
arrived but hither.

41

II,2,668

She took the ring of me: I'll none of it.

42

II,2,674

I left no ring with her: what means this lady?
Fortune forbid my outside have not charm'd her!
She made good view of me; indeed, so much,
That sure methought her eyes had lost her tongue,
For she did speak in starts distractedly.
She loves me, sure; the cunning of her passion
Invites me in this churlish messenger.
None of my lord's ring! why, he sent her none.
I am the man: if it be so, as 'tis,
Poor lady, she were better love a dream.
Disguise, I see, thou art a wickedness,
Wherein the pregnant enemy does much.
How easy is it for the proper-false
In women's waxen hearts to set their forms!
Alas, our frailty is the cause, not we!
For such as we are made of, such we be.
How will this fadge? my master loves her dearly;
And I, poor monster, fond as much on him;
And she, mistaken, seems to dote on me.
What will become of this? As I am man,
My state is desperate for my master's love;
As I am woman,—now alas the day!—
What thriftless sighs shall poor Olivia breathe!
O time! thou must untangle this, not I;
It is too hard a knot for me to untie!

43

II,4,910

It gives a very echo to the seat
Where Love is throned.

44

II,4,916

A little, by your favour.

45

II,4,918

Of your complexion.

46

II,4,920

About your years, my lord.

47

II,4,928

I think it well, my lord.

48

II,4,933

And so they are: alas, that they are so;
To die, even when they to perfection grow!

49

II,4,985

But if she cannot love you, sir?

50

II,4,987

Sooth, but you must.
Say that some lady, as perhaps there is,
Hath for your love a great a pang of heart
As you have for Olivia: you cannot love her;
You tell her so; must she not then be answer'd?

51

II,4,1003

Ay, but I know—

52

II,4,1005

Too well what love women to men may owe:
In faith, they are as true of heart as we.
My father had a daughter loved a man,
As it might be, perhaps, were I a woman,
I should your lordship.

53

II,4,1011

A blank, my lord. She never told her love,
But let concealment, like a worm i' the bud,
Feed on her damask cheek: she pined in thought,
And with a green and yellow melancholy
She sat like patience on a monument,
Smiling at grief. Was not this love indeed?
We men may say more, swear more: but indeed
Our shows are more than will; for still we prove
Much in our vows, but little in our love.

54

II,4,1021

I am all the daughters of my father's house,
And all the brothers too: and yet I know not.
Sir, shall I to this lady?

55

III,1,1236

Save thee, friend, and thy music: dost thou live by
thy tabour?

56

III,1,1239

Art thou a churchman?

57

III,1,1243

So thou mayst say, the king lies by a beggar, if a
beggar dwell near him; or, the church stands by thy
tabour, if thy tabour stand by the church.

58

III,1,1249

Nay, that's certain; they that dally nicely with
words may quickly make them wanton.

59

III,1,1252

Why, man?

60

III,1,1256

Thy reason, man?

61

III,1,1260

I warrant thou art a merry fellow and carest for nothing.

62

III,1,1264

Art not thou the Lady Olivia's fool?

63

III,1,1270

I saw thee late at the Count Orsino's.

64

III,1,1275

Nay, an thou pass upon me, I'll no more with thee.
Hold, there's expenses for thee.

65

III,1,1278

By my troth, I'll tell thee, I am almost sick for
one;
[Aside]
though I would not have it grow on my chin. Is thy
lady within?

66

III,1,1284

Yes, being kept together and put to use.

67

III,1,1287

I understand you, sir; 'tis well begged.

68

III,1,1294

This fellow is wise enough to play the fool;
And to do that well craves a kind of wit:
He must observe their mood on whom he jests,
The quality of persons, and the time,
And, like the haggard, cheque at every feather
That comes before his eye. This is a practise
As full of labour as a wise man's art
For folly that he wisely shows is fit;
But wise men, folly-fall'n, quite taint their wit.

69

III,1,1305

And you, sir.

70

III,1,1307

Et vous aussi; votre serviteur.

71

III,1,1311

I am bound to your niece, sir; I mean, she is the
list of my voyage.

72

III,1,1314

My legs do better understand me, sir, than I
understand what you mean by bidding me taste my legs.

73

III,1,1317

I will answer you with gait and entrance. But we
are prevented.
[Enter OLIVIA and MARIA]
Most excellent accomplished lady, the heavens rain
odours on you!

74

III,1,1323

My matter hath no voice, to your own most pregnant
and vouchsafed ear.

75

III,1,1330

My duty, madam, and most humble service.

76

III,1,1332

Cesario is your servant's name, fair princess.

77

III,1,1336

And he is yours, and his must needs be yours:
Your servant's servant is your servant, madam.

78

III,1,1340

Madam, I come to whet your gentle thoughts
On his behalf.

79

III,1,1347

Dear lady,—

80

III,1,1359

I pity you.

81

III,1,1361

No, not a grize; for 'tis a vulgar proof,
That very oft we pity enemies.

82

III,1,1373

Then westward-ho! Grace and good disposition
Attend your ladyship!
You'll nothing, madam, to my lord by me?

83

III,1,1378

That you do think you are not what you are.

84

III,1,1380

Then think you right: I am not what I am.

85

III,1,1382

Would it be better, madam, than I am?
I wish it might, for now I am your fool.

86

III,1,1396

By innocence I swear, and by my youth
I have one heart, one bosom and one truth,
And that no woman has; nor never none
Shall mistress be of it, save I alone.
And so adieu, good madam: never more
Will I my master's tears to you deplore.

87

III,4,1748

With the same 'havior that your passion bears
Goes on my master's grief.

88

III,4,1755

Nothing but this; your true love for my master.

89

III,4,1758

I will acquit you.

90

III,4,1764

And you, sir.

91

III,4,1771

You mistake, sir; I am sure no man hath any quarrel
to me: my remembrance is very free and clear from
any image of offence done to any man.

92

III,4,1778

I pray you, sir, what is he?

93

III,4,1785

I will return again into the house and desire some
conduct of the lady. I am no fighter. I have heard
of some kind of men that put quarrels purposely on
others, to taste their valour: belike this is a man
of that quirk.

94

III,4,1797

This is as uncivil as strange. I beseech you, do me
this courteous office, as to know of the knight what
my offence to him is: it is something of my
negligence, nothing of my purpose.

95

III,4,1804

Pray you, sir, do you know of this matter?

96

III,4,1807

I beseech you, what manner of man is he?

97

III,4,1815

I shall be much bound to you for't: I am one that
had rather go with sir priest than sir knight: I
care not who knows so much of my mettle.

98

III,4,1848

[Aside] Pray God defend me! A little thing would
make me tell them how much I lack of a man.

99

III,4,1857

I do assure you, 'tis against my will.

100

III,4,1871

Pray, sir, put your sword up, if you please.

101

III,4,1892

What money, sir?
For the fair kindness you have show'd me here,
And, part, being prompted by your present trouble,
Out of my lean and low ability
I'll lend you something: my having is not much;
I'll make division of my present with you:
Hold, there's half my coffer.

102

III,4,1905

I know of none;
Nor know I you by voice or any feature:
I hate ingratitude more in a man
Than lying, vainness, babbling, drunkenness,
Or any taint of vice whose strong corruption
Inhabits our frail blood.

103

III,4,1928

Methinks his words do from such passion fly,
That he believes himself: so do not I.
Prove true, imagination, O, prove true,
That I, dear brother, be now ta'en for you!

104

III,4,1934

He named Sebastian: I my brother know
Yet living in my glass; even such and so
In favour was my brother, and he went
Still in this fashion, colour, ornament,
For him I imitate: O, if it prove,
Tempests are kind and salt waves fresh in love.

105

V,1,2237

Here comes the man, sir, that did rescue me.

106

V,1,2254

He did me kindness, sir, drew on my side;
But in conclusion put strange speech upon me:
I know not what 'twas but distraction.

107

V,1,2282

How can this be?

108

V,1,2295

Madam!

109

V,1,2298

My lord would speak; my duty hushes me.

110

V,1,2324

And I, most jocund, apt and willingly,
To do you rest, a thousand deaths would die.

111

V,1,2327

After him I love
More than I love these eyes, more than my life,
More, by all mores, than e'er I shall love wife.
If I do feign, you witnesses above
Punish my life for tainting of my love!

112

V,1,2333

Who does beguile you? who does do you wrong?

113

V,1,2341

No, my lord, not I.

114

V,1,2368

My lord, I do protest—

115

V,1,2385

Why do you speak to me? I never hurt you:
You drew your sword upon me without cause;
But I bespoke you fair, and hurt you not.

116

V,1,2432

Of Messaline: Sebastian was my father;
Such a Sebastian was my brother too,
So went he suited to his watery tomb:
If spirits can assume both form and suit
You come to fright us.

117

V,1,2443

My father had a mole upon his brow.

118

V,1,2445

And died that day when Viola from her birth
Had number'd thirteen years.

119

V,1,2450

If nothing lets to make us happy both
But this my masculine usurp'd attire,
Do not embrace me till each circumstance
Of place, time, fortune, do cohere and jump
That I am Viola: which to confirm,
I'll bring you to a captain in this town,
Where lie my maiden weeds; by whose gentle help
I was preserved to serve this noble count.
All the occurrence of my fortune since
Hath been between this lady and this lord.

120

V,1,2471

And all those sayings will I overswear;
And those swearings keep as true in soul
As doth that orbed continent the fire
That severs day from night.

121

V,1,2477

The captain that did bring me first on shore
Hath my maid's garments: he upon some action
Is now in durance, at Malvolio's suit,
A gentleman, and follower of my lady's.