I have always believed my failure to be a main character, the heroine, the object of desire, makes me, by default, the villain. But Feste provides a third option. The fool is off to the side, but always onstage. He doesn’t break the fourth wall, he is the wall—a fictional embodiment of the author, there to remind the audience that all this drama will eventually end. He is the only character who doesn’t covet a romantic partner. Maybe it’s because he doesn’t need one, I think.
