| The Twelfth Night By: William Shakespheare |
| Viola |
| I left no ring with her; what means this lady? Fortune Forbid, my outsides 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 the churlish messenger. None of my Lord's ring? why, he sends her none, I am the man, if it be so, at 'tis. Poor lady, she better love a dream. Disguise, I see, thou art a wickedness Wherein the pregnant enemy does much. How easy it is for the proper-false In women's waxen hearts to se their form! Alas, our fraility is the cause, not we! For such that 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 on my master's love; As I am a woman,--now alas the day!-- What thriftless sighs should poor Olivia breathe! O time! Thou must untangle this, not I; It is too hard a knot for me to untie! |
| After being shipwreaked, Viola dresses herself as a man to find work at the Noble Lady Olivia's house. Olivia mistakenly falls in love with Viola. Meanwhile, Viola falls for Olivia's suiter, the Duke. |
| Thank you to Stephanie for emailing this wonderful monologue to me! |
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