Tales from Shakespeare, by Charles and Mary Lamb. In this narrative version of the Bard's plays, Twelfth Night is sixteen pages long, and the language used is that of the authors, i.e., that of early nineteenth century England. It is, however, easier to read than a novel written for adults around the same time, as the authors wrote it for children, and I find it particularly engaging. I found the book in my middle school's library and devoured it almost in one sitting at about age twelve or so. The entire book is available at Bartleby.com, and Twelfth Night can be found here.
Many people prefer the retellings in Shakespeare Stories I and II by Leon Garfield (and illustrated by Michael Foreman), as, in addition to more current language (first published in 1985 and 1994, respectively), there are some fun black-and-white pictures in and amongst the text, as well as some truly gorgeous full-color, full page illustrations placed sporadically throughout the book. Twelfth Night has the distinction of being the first story in the first volume, and is twenty pages long. I will likely choose this version to read aloud with my five- and eight-year-olds, but will give the Lamb to DS (almost twelve) in one of his workboxes tomorrow. We'll see how that goes. : )
The only movie version (the one from 1996) I have seen stars Imogen Stubbs as Viola/Cesario,
There are seven songs in Twelfth Night, and many, if not all, can be found in various incarnations. In the play, four of the songs are sung by Feste, and three by Sir Toby. Of the seven, I'd guess "O Mistress Mine" is the most popular text chosen by composers, and the one found in the 1996 movie (sung by Ben Kingsley) is particularly charming:
But there is also a fairly new choral setting (2001) by Romanian composer György Orbán (b. 1947) that appears with regularity on concert programs:
Sung by Chicago a cappella in this 2005 recording. Text below:
O Mistress mine, where are you roaming?
O stay and hear! your true love's coming
That can sing both high and low;
Trip no further, pretty sweeting,
Journeys end in lovers' meeting--
Every wise man's son doth know.
What is love? 'tis not hereafter;
Present mirth hath present laughter;
What's to come is still unsure:
In delay there lies no plenty,--
Then come kiss me, Sweet-and-twenty,
Youth's a stuff will not endure.