Twelfth Night is famous for love triangles and cross dressing. Viola, a woman, is in love with Orsino and has gone so far as to dress as a man named Cesario to be his servant. Meanwhile, Orsino is in love with Olivia and decides to send Viola/Cesario to woo her for him. In the process, Olivia falls in love with Cesario. In this scene, Orsino finds out that Olivia is in love with Cesario. Heartbroken, he threatens to sacrifice Cesario out of spite against Olivia. Viola loves Orsino so much, she says she is willing to die for him. Dramatic much?
Why should I not, had I the heart to do it,
Like to the Egyptian thief at point of death,
Kill what I love?–a savage jealousy
That sometimes savours nobly. But hear me this:
Since you to non-regardance cast my faith,
And that I partly know the instrument
That screws me from my true place in your favour,
Live you the marble-breasted tyrant still;
But this your minion, whom I know you love,
And whom, by heaven I swear, I tender dearly,
Him will I tear out of that cruel eye,
Where he sits crowned in his master’s spite.
Come, boy, with me; my thoughts are ripe in mischief:
I’ll sacrifice the lamb that I do love,
To spite a raven’s heart within a dove.
Viola (as Cesario)
And I, most jocund, apt, and willingly,
To do you rest, a thousand deaths would die.
Oreo wants treats. Meanwhile, his sister, Violet, isn’t taking the treat their owner is trying to give her. So he decides to draw her away with play so he can take her treat. Violet loves playing so much that she is happy to give up her treat to run around with him.
Why should I not, had I the teeth to chew it,
Like a wild white fanged wolf at point of bacon,
Eat her treat too?–a hungry jealousy
That sometimes savours tasty. But hear me this:
Since you to non-regardance cast the snack,
And that I partly know the animal,
That screws chicken from its true place on my tongue,
Live you the even-handed Owner still
But this your doggie, whom I know you love,
And whom, by raw-hide I swear, I play with dearly,
Her reward will I tear out of that hand,
Where feast sits held in our master’s grip.
Come, dog, with me; my mouth is ripe with dribble:
I’ll entertain this pup who doesn’t eat,
and drawing away trick to get a treat.
And I, most eager, spry, and readily
To play with you, a thousand meats would cede.