SCENE IIIOLIVIA'S house.
Enter SIR TOBY BELCH and MARIA.
What a plague means my niece, to
take the death of her brother thus? I am sure
care's an enemy to life.
By my troth, Sir Toby, you must
come in earlier o' nights: your cousin, my
lady, takes great exceptions to your ill hours.
Why, let her except, before excepted.
Ay, but you must confine yourself (9)
within the modest limits of order.
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
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.
Who, Sir Andrew Aguecheek?
He's as tall a man as any's in Illyria. (21)
What's that to the purpose?
Why, he has three thousand ducats
Ay, but he'll have but a year in all
these ducats: he's a very fool and a prodigal.
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 (29)
hath all the good gifts of nature.
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.
By this hand, they are scoundrels
and substractors that say so of him. Who are
They that add, moreover, he's drunk (39)
nightly in your company.
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. Enter SIR ANDREW AGUECHEEK.
Sir Toby Belch! how now, Sir
Sweet Sir Andrew! (50)
Bless you, fair shrew.
And you too, sir.
Accost, Sir Andrew, accost.
My niece's chambermaid.
Good Mistress Accost, I desire
My name is Mary, sir.
Good Mistress Mary Accost,—
You mistake, knight; 'accost' is (60)
front her, board her, woo her, assail her.
By my troth, I would not undertake
her in this company. Is that the meaning
of 'accost '?
Fare you well, gentlemen.
An thou let part so, Sir Andrew,
would thou mightst never draw sword again.
An you part so, mistress, I would
I might never draw sword again. Fair lady,
do you think you have fools in hand? (70)
Sir, I have not you by the hand.
Marry, but you shall have; and
here's my hand.
Now, sir, 'thought is free:' I pray
you, bring your hand to the buttery-bar and
let it drink.
Wherefore, sweet-heart? what's
It's dry, sir.
Why, I think so: I am not such
an ass but I can keep my hand dry. But what's (80)
A dry jest, sir.
Are you full of them?
Ay, sir, I have them at my fingers'
ends: marry, now I let go your hand, I am
O knight, thou lackest a cup of
canary: when did I see thee so put down?
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 (91)
of beef and I believe that does harm to my wit.
An I thought that, I'ld forswear
it. I'll ride home to-morrow, Sir Toby.
Pourquoi, my dear knight?
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!
Then hadst thou had an excellent (101)
head of hair.
Why, would that have mended
Past question; for thou seest it will
not curl by nature.
But it becomes me well enough,
Excellent; it hangs like flax on a
distaff; and I hope to see a housewife take (110)
thee between her legs and spin it off.
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.
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.
I'll stay a month longer. I am a
fellow o' the strangest mind i' the world; I delight (120)
in masques and revels sometimes altogether.
Art thou good at these kickshawses,
As any man in Illyria, whatsoever
he be, under the degree of my betters;
and yet I will not compare with an old man.
What is thy excellence in a galliard,
Faith, I can cut a caper. (130)
And I can cut the mutton to't.
And I think I have the back-trick
simply as strong as any man in Illyria.
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.
Ay, 'tis strong, and it does indifferent
well in a flame-colored stock. Shall we
set about some revels?
What shall we do else? were we
not born under Taurus?
Taurus! That's sides and heart.
No, sir; it is legs and thighs. Let
me see thee caper: ha! higher: ha, ha! excellent! [Exeunt.