The Twelfth Night Storyboard
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Oh, when mine eyes did see Olivia first, Methought she purged the air of pestilence. That instant was I turned into a hart, And my desires, like fell and cruel hounds.
O, my poor brother! And so perchance may he be.
This is Illyria, lady.It is perchance that you yourself were saved.
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.
A noble duke, in nature as in name is who governs here.
When my tongue blabs, then let mine eyes not see.
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