I still don't own the characters, the rest is public domain

I'm sorry this took so long, but school started and all and the scenes are getting longer. Anyway, I hope to get another one out next weekend, but you never know and thanks to everyone for the feedback, particularly M'cha, but I already said that so on to Act 1, Scene 3!

CHARACTERS:

VIOLA--Alanna of Trebond

OLIVIA--Thayet jian Wilima

MARIA--Buriram Tourikom

SIR TOBY BELCH--Numair Salmalín

SIR ANDREW AGUECHEEK--Liam Ironarm

MALVOLIO--Roger of Conté

FOOL--Nealan of Queenscove

FABIAN--Owen of Jesslaw

ORSINO--Jonathon of Conté

VALENTINE--Raoul of Goldenlake

CURIO--Gareth of Naxen Jr.

SEBASTIAN--Thom of Trebond

ANTONIO--George Cooper

CAPTAIN--Coram Smythsson

1.3

Director: *still recovering from being killed twice but cheerful as always* Miss Tourikom and Mr. Salamín ; you're beginning, of course, and then Mr. Ironarm enters later.

Numair: Salmalín.

Director: Of course, Mr. Salamín.

Numair: It's Sal-mal-ín. The em comes before the second a. Salmalín.

Director: That's what I said, Mr. Salamín. Carry on now, we're already behind schedule.

Numair: *gives up* "What a plague means my niece, to take the death of/her brother thus? I am sure care's an enemy to life."

Buri: "By my troth, Sir Toby, you must come in earlier o'nights: your cousin," Do I have to say this? This is silly.

Director: Don't be ridiculous, Miss Touikom, you're being as bad as Mr. Goldenlake there.

Raoul: Hey!

Buri: *mutters* am not.

Thayet: *whispers something at Buri*

Buri: Oh all right then! *glares at Thayet* "your cousin, my lady, takes great/ exceptions to your ill hours."

Numair: "Why, let her except, before excepted."

Daine: *who has appeared on the scene* What's that supposed to mean?

Numair: *protesting* I'm just reading what's in the script

Daine: I'll bet... *grabs script away from Numair playfully*

Numair: *kisses Daine*

Director: Mr. Salamín! And Miss, er *consults list*, Sarsria, I'm shocked!

Daine: *turns on director angrily*

Numair: It's all right, she does that to everyone's name

Daine: Do you know what she just called me? Do any of you know common Gallan?

Neal: *murmurs* I took a course in colloquial Gallan last summer...

Director: I'm very sorry, Miss Sirsara, but, we really must continue. Miss Tourokim?

Thayet: She's not here.

Director: Then where is she?

Alanna: *looking around* And where's Raoul?

*intersting noises from off stage*

Director: Will someone please explain what is going on?

Neal: No.

*Buri and Raoul re-appear*

DIrector: Miss Tourokom. We really must stay on task here. You can't just wander off like that!

Buri: *ignores her*

Director: Your line please...

Buri: "Ay, but you must confine yourself within the/modest/limits of order."

Numair: *stops kissing Daine* Where are we?

Daine: *giggles, points out place in script*

Director: *glares at them*

Numair: "Confine! I'll confine myself no finer than I am:/these clothes are good enough to drink in; and so/be/these boots too: an they be not, let them hang/themselves in their own straps!"

Director: *approvingly* That's the spirit, Mr. Salamín!

Numair: *murmuring* All those years of stree performances finally paying off.

Buri: *bored with the whole thing* "That quaffing and drinking will undo you: I heard/ my lady talk of it yesterday; and of a foolish/ knight that you brought in one night here to be/ her wooer."

Director: Miss Tourokom, please try to put feeling into your words. *goes off into whole speech about feeling*

*everyone else looks at eachother. Daine kisses Numair*

Director: *shuts up*

Numair: *really in the spirit of the thing* "Who, Sir Andrew Aguecheek?"

Buri: "Ay, he."

Numair: "He's as tall as a man as any's in Illyria."

Buri: "What's that to the purpose?"

Numair: "Why, he has three thousand ducats a year."

Gary: Ducats? What's that in nobles?

Neal: about 4000 gold.

Gary: Why so much?

Neal: Inflation.

Jonathon: What's inflation.

*the three begin a discussion of economics*

Numair: If you think that's bad, you should see what it's like in Carthak. We're worth almost double their standard.

Buri: And in Sarain...

Director: *coughs loudly* If we may continue....

Buri *glares at director* "Ay, but he'll have but a year in all these ducats:/ he's a very fool and a prodigal."

Numair: "Fie, that you'll say so! he plays o' the/ viol-de-gamboys, and speaks three or four languages/ word for word without book, and hath all the good/ gifts of nature."

Buri: "He hath indeed, almost natural: for besides that/ he's a fool, he's a great quarreller: and but that/ he hath the gift of a coward to allay the gust he/ hath in quarrelling, 'tis thought among the prudent/ he would quickly have the gift of a grave.'

Alanna: *confused* Who's this you're talking about? Jonathon?

Neal: he hasn't come on yet, my lady.

Alanna: Who? Jonathon?

Neal: *explains to Alanna what is going on.*

Numair: "By this hand, they are scoundrels and subractors/ that say so of him. WHo are the?"

Buri: "They that add, moreover, he's drunk nightly in your/ company."

Numair: "With drinking healths to my niece: I'll drink to/ her as long as there is a passage in my throat/ and/ drink in Illyria: he's a coward and a coystrill/ that will not drink to my niece till his brains turn/ o' the toe like a parish-top. What, wench!/ Castiliano vulgo! for here comes Sir Andrew Agueface."

Buri: What did you just call me?

Numair: It's just in the script!

Buri: I'm a warrior! A warrior, not a wench!

Thayet: Calm down, Buri, it's just a play.

Buri: *glares at Numair*

*Alex appears*

Director: WHo are you? ANd where is Mr. Ironarm?

Alex: Liam was busy, he sent me instead.

Director: And you are...

Alanna: He's Sir Alexander of Tirragen.

Roger: Alex! My former squire, how pleasant to see you. Now we can get to work taking over the world!

Alex: *Edging away from Roger* Jon-Majesty! Forgive me! I deserve to die for my crimes against you!

Gary: *mutters to Raoul* There's someone with the dramatic flair.

Jon: *confused* Alex, I though you were dead.

Roger: You though I was dead, too, my naive cousin. *puts hand on Alex's shoulder*

Alex: Get away from me! Majesty, *kneels* I-I don't know how I could have betrayed you! *starts to cry*

Director: Can we please get started? Mr. Tirragen, take up your line.

Alex: *sob* Line? *sob*

Gary: It's a play Alex, you have the highlighted lines.

Alex: A play? *stops crying and gets up* I love plays! I've been practicing my dramatic flair!

Raoul: *mutters* It's obvious

Alex: *finding place* "SIr Toby Belch! How now, Sir Toby Belch!"

Numair: "Sweet Sir Andrew!"

Alex: "Bless you, fair shrew."

Buri: Who are you calling a shrew? *draws dagger on Alex*

Thay: *takes dagger away from Buri*

Buri: *scowls at Thayet* "And you too, sir."

Numair: "Accost, Sir ANdrew, accost."

Alex: "What's that?"

Numair: *repeats* "Accost, Sir Andrew, accost."

Alex: No! That was my line! You've ruined it! *attacks Numair*

Numair: *turns Alex into a tree* oops. Guess I got a little carried away. *mutters spell*

*tree turns back into Alex*

Alex: We-elll?

Numair: I'm sorry. I really didn't mean it...

Alex: No! Say your line!

Numair: *gives Alex strange look* "My neice's chambermaid." *backs nervously away from Buri*

Alex: Good Mistress Accost, I desire better acquaintance."

Buri: *with clenched teeth* "My name is Mary, sir."

Alex: "Good Mistress Mary Accost,--"

Numair: "You mistake, knight; accost' is front her, board/ her, woo her, assail her."

Alex: *attempts to take Numair at his word*

Buri: *stabs Alex*

Neal: Hey, my dad said that he's not going to come fix you guys up any more. Lady Alanna?

Alanna: Nope. He's better off dead. *stabs Alex too*

Neal: *heals Alex*

Alanna: *glares at Neal*

Alex: "By my troth, I would not undertake her in this/ company. Is that the meaning of accost'?"

Buri: "Fare you well, gentlemen." *leaves*

Thayet: you're not done yet.

Buri: *gives Thayet the evil eye*

Numair: "An thou let part so, Sir Andrew, would thou mightst/ never draw sword again."

Neal: *laughs*

Raoul: *laughs*

Gary: *laughs*

Jon: *laughs*

Thom: I don't get it.

Alex: "An you part so, mistress, I would I might never/ draw sword again. Fair lady, do you think you have/ fools in hand?"

Buri: Huh?

Alex: "An you part so, mistress, I would I might never/ draw sword again. Fair lady, do you think you have/ fools in hand?"

Buri: "Sir, I have not you by the hand."

Owen: * complains* I don't get this. It isn't jolly at all.

Alex: "Marry, but you shall have; and here's my hand"

Daine: Are you flirting with her, Alex?

Director: Miss Sasria, it's only a play. Of course he isn't really flirting.

Daine: I'd thought you could at least understand a joke.

Buri: "Now, sir, 'thought is free:' I pray you, bring/ your hand to the buttery-bar and let it drink."

Thayet: Owen's too young to be hearing this sort of thing.

Owen: I don't get it anyway.

Buri: "It's dry, sir."

Alex: "Why, I think so: I am not such an ass but I can/ keep my hand dry. But what's your jest?"

Buri: "A dry jest, sir."

Alex: "Are you full of them?"

Buri: *who can see the end finally coming* "Ay,-sir,-I-have-them-at-my-fingers'-ends:-marry.-now-I-let-go-your-hand,-I-am-barren." Thank the gods thats over! *Runs away*

Numair: "O knight thou lackest a cup of canary: when did I/ see thee so put down?"

Alex: "Never in your life, I think; unless you see canary/ put me down. Methinks sometimes I have no more wit/ than a Christian or an ordinary man has: but I am a/ great eater of beef and I believe that does harm to my wit."

Alanna: What's a Christian?

*no answer*

Numair: "No question"

Alex: "An I thought that, I'd forswear it. I'll ride home to-morrow, Sir Toby"

Numair: "Pourquoi, my dear knight?"

Jon: pourquoi?

Neal: C'est français.

Alanna: what?

Neal: It's French.

Jon: What's French?

Neal: Pourquoi.

Jon: What?

Neal: Pourquoi is French.

Jon: I know. You told me. But what is French?

Neal: The language of France.

Jon: Where is France?

Neal: *shrugs*

Alanna: how do you know everything?

Neal: *shrugs*

Alex: "What is 'Pourquoi'? do or not do? I would I had/ bestowed that time in the tongues that I have in/ fencing, dancing and bear-baiting: O, had I but/ followed the arts!"

Numair: "Then hadst thou had an excellent head of hair."

Alex: "Why, would that have mended my hair?"

Numair: "Past question; for thou seeth it will not curl by nature."

Alex: "But it becomes me well enought, does't not?"

Numair: "Excellent; it hangs like flax on a distaff; and I/ hope to see a housewife take thee between her legs/ and spin it off."

Neal/Gary/Raoul: *laugh*

Alex: "Faith, I'll home to-morrow, Sir Toby: your niece/ will not be seen; or if she be, it's four to one/ she'll none of me: the count himself here hard by woos her."

Numair: "She'll none o' the count: she'll not match above/ her degree, neither in estate, years, nor wit; I/ have heard her swear't. Tut, there's life in't,/ man."

Thayet: That's not true!

Buri: *sarcastically* It's just a play, remember, Highness?

Alex: "I'll stay a month longer. I am a fellow o' the/ strangest mind i' the world; I delight in masques/ and revels sometimes altogether."

Numair: "Art thou good at these kickshawses, knight?"

Alex: "As any man in Illyria, whatsoever he be, under the/ degree of my betters; and yet I will not compare/ with an old man."

Neal: What's a kickshaws?

Alanna: At last! Something my genius of a squire doesn't know!

Numair: "What is thy excellence in a galliard, knight?"

Alex: "Faith, I can cut a caper."

Gary, Raoul, Jon, and Alanna: *Snicker*

Gary: Remember dancing class?

Raoul: And when he tried to dance with the Gallan Ambassador's wife?

All four: *crack up*

Alex: *glares at them*

Numair: *smiling* "And I can cut the mutton to't"

Alex: "And I think I have the back-trick simply as strong/ as any man in Illyria."

Neal: I know! A kickshaws must be some sort of dance!

Alanna: *ignores him*

Numair: "Wherefore are these things hid? wherefore have/ these gifts a curtain before 'em? are they like to/ take dust, like Mistress Mall's picture? why dost/ thou not go to church in a galliard and come home in/ a coranto? My very walk should be a jig; I would not/ so much as make water but in a sink-a-pace. What/ dost thou mean? Is it a world to hide virtues in?/ I did think, by the excellent constitution of thy/ leg, it was formed under the star of a galliard."

Daine: *applauds* That was great! *kisses Numair*

Numair: *kisses Daine*

Director: *stiffly* Mr. Salamín, Miss Srisari: I am trying to conduct an exemplary rehearsal for the benefit of young people all over.

Alex: "Ay, tis strong, and it does indifferent well in a/ flame colored stock. Shall we set about some revels."

Numair: ....

Daine: Here, silly. *points out place in script*

Numair: *kisses Daine* "What shall we do else? Were we not born under Taurus?"

Jon: What's Taurus?

Alanna: *too late* Don't ask it!

Neal: The Bull. It's one of the 12 zodiacal signs.

Jon: Zodiacal-

Alanna: Shut up!

Alex: "Taurus! That's sides and heart."

Numair: "No, sir; it is legs and thighs. Let me see thee/ caper;"

Alex: *capers*

Alanna, Jon, Raoul, Gary: *laughing so hard they're crying*

Own: This isn't jolly....

Numair: "ha! Higher:"

Alex: *capers higher*

Alanna, Jon, Raoul, Gary: *laughing even harder*

Numair: "Ha! ha! Excellent"

Gary: *dies laughing*

Neal: *fixes Gary*

Gary: *still laughing*