Twelfth Night is a beguiling comedy of mistaken identity, the pangs of love, and the humiliation of the pious, all set in Illyria on the Adriatic coast.
Twelfth Night, Retold is a contemporary, line-by-line, iambic-pentameter rewrite of one of Shakespeare's most endearing comedies, intended to bring life to the original text through a direct, easily understood modern interpretation.
Twelfth Night, Retold: Coming soon...
Subscribe below to receive publication details.
ACT 1, Scene 1
If music be the food of love, play on.
Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting,
The appetite may sicken and so die.
That strain again! It had a dying fall.
O, it came o'er my ear like the sweet sound
That breathes upon a bank of violets,
Stealing and giving odor. Enough; no more.
'Tis not so sweet now as it was before.
If music is the fuel of love, play on!
Play tunes aplenty till I’ve heard too much,
and then these pangs will pale and fade away.
Play that refrain again; I found it haunting.
To me it sounded like the gentle purr
of blowing breeze through violets on a bank,
distributing their scent. But, that’s enough!
For now, love’s not as sweet as once it was.