VIOLA

A woman disguised as a man, in love with the master who cannot see her, tells him about her 'sister' who is really herself. She grieves and flirts in the same breath, hidden in plain sight.

1:02Dramatic-comic18–25Intermediate

The speech96 words · 3 beats

0:00 / 1:02

Off-book

My father had a daughter loved a man, As it might be, perhaps, were I a woman, I should your lordship.

And what's her history? 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.turn

✦ AIStudy this passageplain English

Three ways in, all in plain English. Side by side pairs the original with a modern rendering, line by line. In contexttells you what’s happening and what the character wants. Glossary unpacks the tricky words. Pick a lens above.

AI-generated study aid — trust the original text first; treat this as a gloss.

Takes

No takes yet — be the first to log how you’d play it.

Speaking to: Orsino, whom she loves and cannot tell.
What just happened: Orsino has claimed no woman could love as deeply as he loves Olivia. Viola, in her page's disguise, quietly disputes it by describing a love she can only call her sister's.
Objective: To make Orsino feel the love she cannot openly declare.
The turn: 'I am all the daughters of my father's house, / And all the brothers too' — the invented sister nearly gives her away.
Watch out for: The trap is playing pure melancholy. The scene is a tightrope of dramatic irony; she is teasing and aching at once. 'Was not this love indeed?' is a genuine challenge to him, not a sigh. Guard against the audience getting ahead of her.

Full work: Twelfth Night New to the vocabulary? What’s a beat? →

More from Twelfth Night1

VIOLA1:24Shipwrecked, believes her twin brother drowned, currently employed as a young man named Cesario.

VIOLA

Twelfth Night · William Shakespeare · 1:02 · 96 words

My father had a daughter loved a man, As it might be, perhaps, were I a woman, I should your lordship. And what's her history? 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.

wrote