| [Enter SIR TOBY BELCH and MARIA] | |
| SIR TOBY BELCH | 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. |
| SIR TOBY BELCH | Why, let her except, before excepted. |
| MARIA | Ay, but you must confine yourself within the modest limits of order. |
| SIR TOBY BELCH | 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. |
| 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. |
| SIR TOBY BELCH | Who, Sir Andrew Aguecheek? |
| MARIA | Ay, he. |
| SIR TOBY BELCH | He's as tall a man as any's in Illyria. |
| MARIA | What's that to the purpose? |
| SIR TOBY BELCH | Why, he has three thousand ducats a year. |
| MARIA | Ay, but he'll have but a year in all these ducats: he's a very fool and a prodigal. |
| SIR TOBY BELCH | 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. |
| MARIA | 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 TOBY BELCH | By this hand, they are scoundrels and subtractors that say so of him. Who are they? |
| MARIA | They that add, moreover, he's drunk nightly in your company. |
| SIR TOBY BELCH | 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] | |
| SIR ANDREW | Sir Toby Belch! how now, Sir Toby Belch! |
| SIR TOBY BELCH | Sweet Sir Andrew! |
| SIR ANDREW | Bless you, fair shrew. |
| MARIA | And you too, sir. |
| SIR TOBY BELCH | Accost, Sir Andrew, accost. |
| SIR ANDREW | What's that? |
| SIR TOBY BELCH | 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,-- |
| SIR TOBY BELCH | 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. |
| SIR TOBY BELCH | 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? |
| 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. |
| SIR ANDREW | Wherefore, sweet-heart? 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? |
| 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] | |
| SIR TOBY BELCH | O knight thou lackest a cup of canary: when did 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 a great eater of beef and I believe that does harm to my wit. |
| SIR TOBY BELCH | No question. |
| SIR ANDREW | An I thought that, I'ld forswear it. I'll ride home to-morrow, Sir Toby. |
| SIR TOBY BELCH | Pourquoi, my dear knight? |
| SIR ANDREW | 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 TOBY BELCH | Then hadst thou had an excellent head of hair. |
| SIR ANDREW | Why, would that have mended my hair? |
| SIR TOBY BELCH | Past question; for thou seest it will not curl by nature. |
| SIR ANDREW | But it becomes me well enough, does't not? |
| SIR TOBY BELCH | 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 ANDREW | 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 TOBY BELCH | 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. |
| 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. |
| SIR TOBY BELCH | 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 BELCH | What is thy excellence in a galliard, knight? |
| SIR ANDREW | Faith, I can cut a caper. |
| SIR TOBY BELCH | 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 BELCH | 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 ANDREW | Ay, 'tis strong, and it does indifferent well in a flame-coloured stock. Shall we set about some revels? |
| SIR TOBY BELCH | What shall we do else? were we not born under Taurus? |
| SIR ANDREW | Taurus! That's sides and heart. |
| SIR TOBY BELCH | No, sir; it is legs and thighs. Let me see the caper; ha! higher: ha, ha! excellent! |
| [Exeunt] |