“Prosper well in this,” he ended, “and you shall live as freely as your lord, and call his fortunes yours.” Alas, poor Viola! The Duke little thought what a task he was setting his young page. The sweetness and charm of his own nature had already won Viola’s heart, and how gladly she would have accepted the love which Olivia rejected! But she must be faithful to her trust. “I’ll do my best to woo your lady,” she said, and so departed on her mission. While the lady Olivia lived in grief and retirement, there were others of her household very far from sharing in her desire for quiet and gravity. Her steward, Malvolio, was indeed a staid and respectable personage, stiff in bearing, hating all forms of wit and levity, very fault-finding with others, and extremely well satisfied with himself. Olivia had a real esteem for Malvolio, for she knew him to be worthy and conscientious, although, as she told him, he was “sick of self-love.” But there were others who conducted themselves very differently from Malvolio, and between these noisy dependents and the austere steward there was a constant smouldering resentment, always ready to break into open warfare. The chief source of unruliness was a certain riotous knight, called Sir Toby Belch, an uncle of Olivia’s, who since her brother’s death had taken up his abode in the house. He loved feasting and revelry, and his wild behaviour was likely soon to bring discredit on the household if some check were not put to it. His boon companion was an idle knight, called Sir Andrew Aguecheek, who under a smattering of foreign languages concealed an unlimited fund of native stupidity. Sir Toby was quite aware of Sir Andrew’s silliness, and loved to laugh at him and parade his folly; but none the less he thought this foolish gentleman would do very well as a husband for Olivia, and he encouraged him to come to the house on every occasion. A third member of the band was Feste, the clown, or jester. Feste was a privileged person, and, like all fools or Court jesters in those days, was allowed to speak his mind much more freely than ordinary mortals; even the stately Countess herself did not escape his sharp speeches. In days gone by, Olivia’s father had taken much delight in him, and now Olivia listened indulgently to his chatter, and rebuked Malvolio for the sour ill-temper with which he tried to snub the fool’s sallies. In addition to his fool’s wit, Feste possessed a gift of real power, a wonderfully sweet voice for singing, and wherever he went could be heard snatches of song, gay and jocund, or plaintive and of touching pathos. Olivia’s waiting-maid, Maria, regarded Malvolio with no more favour than did the rest of this noisy company. She was a quick-witted, lively young person, delighting in fun, and Malvolio’s solemn primness and rigid severity seemed to her nothing but hypocrisy.