Scene III

Olivia's House.

[Enter Sir Toby Belch and Maria.]

SIR TOBY:
What a plague means my niece, to take the death of
her brother thus? I am sure care's an enemy to life.
MARIA:
By my troth, Sir Toby, you must come in earlier o'
nights: your cousin, my lady, takes great exceptions to
your ill hours.(5)
SIR TOBY:
Why, let her except, before excepted.
MARIA:
Ay, but you must confine yourself within the
modest limits of order.
SIR TOBY:
Confine? I'll confine myself no finer than I am:
these clothes are good enough to drink in; and so be these(10)
boots too: an they be not, let them hang themselves in
their own straps.
MARIA:
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.(15)
SIR TOBY:
Who, Sir Andrew Aguecheek?
MARIA:
Ay, he.
SIR TOBY:
He's as tall a man as any's in Illyria.
MARIA:
What's that to the purpose?
SIR TOBY:
Why, he has three thousand ducats a year.(20)
MARIA:
Ay, but he'll have but a year in all these ducats: he's a
very fool, and a prodigal.
SIR TOBY:
Fie, that you'll say so! he plays o' the viol-de-gam-
boys, and speaks three or four languages word for word
without book, and hath all the good gifts of nature.(25)
MARIA:
He hath indeed, almost natural: for besides that he's
a fool, he's a great quarreler; 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.(30)
SIR TOBY:
By this hand, they are scoundrels and substractors
that say so of him. Who are they?
MARIA:
They that add, moreover, he's drunk nightly in your
company.
SIR TOBY:
With drinking healths to my niece: I'll drink to her as(35)
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 ANDREW:
Sir Toby Belch! how now, Sir Toby Belch!(40)
SIR TOBY:
Sweet Sir Andrew!
SIR ANDREW:
Bless you, fair shrew.
MARIA:
And you too, sir.
SIR TOBY:
Accost, Sir Andrew, accost.
SIR ANDREW:
What's that?(45)
SIR TOBY:
My niece's chambermaid.
SIR ANDREW:
Good Mistress Accost, I desire better
acquaintance.
MARIA:
My name is Mary, sir.
SIR ANDREW:
Good Mistress Mary Accost,—(50)
SIR TOBY:
You mistake, knight; ‘accost’ is front her, board her,
woo her, assail her.
SIR ANDREW:
By my troth, I would not undertake her in this
company. Is that the meaning of ‘accost’?
MARIA:
Fare you well, gentlemen.(55)
SIR TOBY:
An thou let part so, Sir Andrew, would thou mightst
never draw sword again.
SIR ANDREW:
An you part so, mistress, I would I might never
draw sword again. Fair lady, do you think you have fools
in hand?(60)
MARIA:
Sir, I have not you by the hand.
SIR ANDREW:
Marry, but you shall have; and here's my
hand.
MARIA:
Now, sir, thought is free. I pray you, bring your hand
to the buttery-bar and let it drink.(65)
SIR ANDREW:
Wherefore, sweetheart? what's your metaphor?
MARIA:
It's dry, sir.
SIR ANDREW:
Why, I think so: I am not such an ass but I can
keep my hand dry. But what's your jest?(70)
MARIA:
A dry jest, sir.
SIR ANDREW:
Are you full of them?
MARIA:
Ay, sir, I have them at my fingers' ends: marry, now I
let go your hand, I am barren.

[Exit Maria.]

SIR TOBY:
O knight, thou lackest a cup of canary: when did(75)
I see thee so put down?
SIR ANDREW:
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 great
eater of beef, and I believe that does harm to my wit.(80)
SIR TOBY:
No question.
SIR ANDREW:
An I thought that, I'd forswear it. I'll ride home
tomorrow, Sir Toby.
SIR TOBY:
Pourquoi, my dear knight?
SIR ANDREW:
What is ‘Pourquoi’? Do or not do? I would I had(85)
bestowed that time in the tongues that I have in fenc-
ing, dancing, and bear-baiting. Oh, had I but followed
the arts!
SIR TOBY:
Then hadst thou had an excellent head of hair.
SIR ANDREW:
Why, would that have mended my hair?(90)
SIR TOBY:
Past question; for thou seest it will not curl by
nature.
SIR ANDREW:
But it becomes me well enough, does't not?
SIR TOBY:
Excellent; it hangs like flax on a distaff; and I hope
to see a housewife take thee between her legs and spin(95)
it off.
SIR ANDREW:
Faith, I'll home tomorrow, 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 TOBY:
She'll none o' the Count: she'll not match above her(100)
degree, neither in estate, years, nor wit; I have heard
her swear't. Tut, there's life in't, man.
SIR ANDREW:
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.(105)
SIR TOBY:
Art thou good at these kickshawses, knight?
SIR ANDREW:
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 TOBY:
What is thy excellence in a galliard, knight?(110)
SIR ANDREW:
Faith, I can cut a caper.
SIR TOBY:
And I can cut the mutton to't.
SIR ANDREW:
And, I think I have the back-trick simply as strong
as any man in Illyria.
SIR TOBY:
Wherefore are these things hid? wherefore have these(115)
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(120)
virtues in? I did think, by the excellent constitution of thy
leg, it was formed under the star of a galliard.
SIR ANDREW:
Ay, 'tis strong, and it does indifferent well in flame-
colour'd stock. Shall we set about some revels?
SIR TOBY:
What shall we do else? were we not born under(125)
Taurus?
SIR ANDREW:
Taurus? that's sides and heart.
SIR TOBY:
No, sir; it is legs and thighs. Let me see thee caper; ha!
higher! ha, ha! excellent!
[Exeunt.]