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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 kestrel that will not drink to my niece till his brains turn o’th' toe like a parish-top. What, wench? * Castiliano volto! for here comes fir Andrew Ague-cheek.
Enter fir Andrew. Sir And. Sir Toby Belch! how now, fir Toby Belch? Sir To. Sweet fir Andrew! Sir And. Bless you, fair shrew. Mar. And you too, fir. Sir To. Accost, fir Andrew, accoft. Sir And. What's that? Sir To. My niece's chambermaid. Sir And. Good mistress Accoft, I defire better acquaintance. Mar. My name is Mary, fir. Sir And. Good mistress Mary Accoft.
Sir Tó. You mistake, knight: accost, is, front her, board her, woo her, affail 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. If thou let her part so, fir Andrew, would thou might'st never draw sword again!
Sir And. If 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 th' hand.
By Castilian countenance here he means her best, her most civil and courtly looks, which he bids ber put on because for Andrew is coming.
Mar. Now, fir, thought is free: I pray you, bring your hand to th' buttery-bar, and let it drink.
Sir And. Wherefore, sweet heart? what's your metaphor ? Mar. It's dry, fir.
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.
Mar. Ay, fir, Í have them at my fingers ends : marry, now I let go your hand, I am barren.
[Exit Maria. Sir To. O knight, thou lack'st 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. If I thought that, I'd forswear it. I'll ride home to-morrow, fir Toby.
Sir To. Pourquoy, my dear knight?
Sir And. What is pourquoy? 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 follow'd the arts !
Sir To. Then hadît thou had an excellent head of hair.
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, fir Toby; your niece, will not be seen, or if she be, it's four to one she'll none of me: the duke himself here hard by wooes her.
Sir To. She'll none o’th' duke; she'll not match above her degree, neither in estate, years, nor wit; I have heard her swear. Tut, there's life in't, man. Sir And. I'll stay a month longer. I am a fellow o'th' ftrangest
mind i'th' world: I delight in masks and revels sometimes altogether.
Sir To. Art thou good at these kickshaws, 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
Sir To. What is thy excellence in a galliard, knight?
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 doft 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 cinque-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 form’d under the ffar of a galliard.
Sir And. Ay, 'tis strong; and it does indifferent well in a flame-colour'd stocking. 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, fir, it is legs and thighs. Let me see thee caper ; ha! higher : ha! ha! excellent !
Enter Valentine, and Viola in man's attire.
you are like to be much advanc'd; he hath known you but three days, and already you are no stranger.
Vio. You either fear his humour, or my negligence, that you
Enter Duke, Curio, and Attendants.
Duke. Stand you a while aloof. Cesario,
Vio. Sure, my noble lord,
Duke. Be clamorous, and leap all civil bounds,
Vio. Say, I do speak with her, my lord; what then?
Vio. I think not so, my lord.
Duke. Dear lad, believe it:
All, if you will; for I myself am best
Vio. I'll do my best
SCE N E VI.
Enter Maria, and Clown. Mar. TAY, either tell me where thou hast been, or I will
not open my lips so wide as a bristle may enter, in way of thy excuse: my lady will hang thee for thy abfence.
Clo. Let her hang me; he that is well hang’d in this world needs fear no colours.
Mar. Make that good.
Mar. A good lenten answer : I can tell thee where that saying was born, of, I fear no colours,
Clo. Where, good mistress Mary?
Mar. In the wars; and that may you be bold to say in your foolery.
Clo. Well, god give them wisdom that have it; and those that are fools let them use their talents.
Mar. Yet you will be hang’d for being so long absent, or be turn’d away; is not that as good as a hanging to you?
Clo. Many a good hanging prevents a bad marriage; and for turning away, let summer bear it out.
Mar. You are resolute then?
your gaskins fall.