A Room in OLIVIA'S House. |
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Enter SIR TOBY BELCH and MARIA. |
Sir To. What a plague means my niece, to take the death of her brother thus? I am sure care's an enemy to life. |
Mar. By my troth, Sir Toby, you must come in earlier o' nights: your cousin, my lady, takes great exceptions to your ill hours. |
Sir To. Why, let her except before excepted. |
Mar. Ay, but you must confine yourself within the modest limits of order. |
Sir To. 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. |
Mar. 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. |
Sir To. Who? Sir Andrew Aguecheek? |
Mar. Ay, he. |
Sir To. He's as tall a man as any's in Illyria. |
Mar. What's that to the purpose? |
Sir To. Why, he has three thousand ducats a year. |
Mar. Ay, but he'll have but a year in all these ducats: he's a very fool and a prodigal. |
Sir To. 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. |
Mar. 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. |
Sir To. By this hand, they are scoundrels and substractors that say so of him. Who are they? |
Mar. They that add, moreover, he's drunk nightly in your company. |
Sir To. 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 coystril, 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. |
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Enter SIR ANDREW AGUECHEEK. |
Sir And. Sir Toby Belch! how now, Sir Toby Belch! |
Sir To. Sweet Sir Andrew! |
Sir And. Bless you, fair shrew. |
Mar. And you too, sir. |
Sir To. Accost, Sir Andrew, accost. |
Sir And. What's that? |
Sir To. My niece's chambermaid. |
Sir And. Good Mistress Accost, I desire better acquaintance. |
Mar. My name is Mary, sir. |
Sir And. Good Mistress Mary Accost,— |
Sir To. You mistake, knight: 'accost' is, front her, board her, woo her, assail her. |
Sir And. By my troth, I would not undertake her in this company. Is that the meaning of 'accost?' |
Mar. Fare you well, gentlemen. |
Sir To. An thou let her part so, Sir Andrew, would thou mightst never draw sword again! |
Sir And. An you part so, mistress, I would I might never draw sword again. Fair lady, do you think you have fools in hand? |
Mar. Sir, I have not you by the hand. |
Sir And. Marry, but you shall have; and here's my hand. |
Mar. Now, sir, 'thought is free:' I pray you, bring your hand to the buttery-bar and let it drink. |
Sir And. Wherefore, sweetheart? what's your metaphor? |
Mar. It's dry, sir. |
Sir And. Why, I think so: I am not such an ass but I can keep my hand dry. But what's your jest? |
Mar. A dry jest, sir. |
Sir And. Are you full of them? |
Mar. Ay, sir, I have them at my fingers' ends: marry, now I let go your hand, I am barren. [Exit. |
Sir To. O knight! thou lackest a cup of canary: when did I see thee so put down? |
Sir And. 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. |
Sir To. No question. |
Sir And. An I thought that, I'd forswear it. |
I'll ride home to-morrow, Sir Toby. |
Sir To. Pourquoi, my dear knight? |
Sir And. 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! |
Sir To. Then hadst thou had an excellent head of hair. |
Sir And. Why, would that have mended my hair? |
Sir To. Past question; for thou seest it will not curl by nature. |
Sir And. But it becomes me well enough, does't not? |
Sir To. Excellent; it hangs like flax on a distaff, and I hope to see a housewife take thee between her legs, and spin it off. |
Sir And. 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. |
Sir To. She'll none o' the count; she'll not match above her degree, neither in estate, years, nor wit; I have heard her swear it. Tut, there's life in't, man. |
Sir And. 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. |
Sir To. Art thou good at these kickchawses, knight? |
Sir And. As any man in Illyria, whatsoever he be, under the degree of my betters: and yet I will not compare with an old man. |
Sir To. What is thy excellence in a galliard, knight? |
Sir And. Faith, I can cut a caper. |
Sir To. And I can cut the mutton to 't. |
Sir And. And I think I have the back-trick simply as strong as any man in Illyria. |
Sir To. 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. |
Sir And. Ay, 'tis strong, and it does indifferent well in a flame-coloured stock. Shall we set about some revels? |
Sir To. What shall we do else? were we not born under Taurus? |
Sir And. Taurus! that's sides and heart. |
Sir To. No, sir, it is legs and thighs. Let me see thee caper. Ha! higher: ha, ha! excellent! [Exeunt. |
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