http://www.arcamax.com/plays/b-1510-2
Twelfth Night
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.
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 boots too; and
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. 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 th' purpose?
SIR TOBY. 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. Fie, that you'll say so! he plays o' th' 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. 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. 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' th' 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!
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?
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,--
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.
SIR TOBY. An thou let part so, Sir Andrew, would thou mightst never
draw sword again.
SIR ANDREW. And 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 th' 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 th'
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. O knight, thou lack'st 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. No question.
SIR ANDREW. And I thought that, I'd forswear it. I'll ride home
to-morrow, Sir Toby.
SIR TOBY. Pourquoi, my dear knight?
SIR ANDREW. What is 'pourquoi'? do or not do? I would I had bestow'd
that time in the tongues that I have in fencing, dancing, and
bear-baiting! O, had I but follow'd the arts!
SIR TOBY. Then hadst thou had an excellent head of hair.
SIR ANDREW. Why, would that have mended my hair?
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.
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 wooes her.
SIR TOBY. She'll none o' th' 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' th' strangest
mind i' th' world; I delight in masques and revels sometimes
altogether.
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?
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 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. 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 star of a galliard.
SIR ANDREW. Ay, 't is 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 Taurus?
SIR ANDREW. Taurus! That's sides and heart.
SIR TOBY. No, sir; it is legs and thighs. Let me see the caper. Ha!
higher! ha, ha, excellent!
[Exeunt.]
SCENE IV.
The DUKE'S palace.
[Enter VALENTINE, and VIOLA in man's attire.]
VALENTINE. If the duke continue these favours towards you, Cesario,
you are like to be much advanc'd. He hath known you but three days,
and already you are no stranger.
VIOLA. You either fear his humour or my negligence, that you call in
question the continuance of his love. Is he inconstant, sir, in his
favours?
VALENTINE. No, believe me.
VIOLA. I thank you. Here comes the Count.
[Enter DUKE, CURIO, and ATTENDANTS.]
DUKE. Who saw Cesario, ho?
VIOLA. On your attendance, my lord; here.
DUKE. Stand you awhile aloof. Cesario, Thou know'st no less but all; I
have unclasp'd To thee the book even of my secret soul. Therefore,
good youth, address thy gait unto her; Be not denied access, stand at
her doors, And tell them, there thy fixed foot shall grow Till thou
have audience.
VIOLA. Sure, my noble lord, If she be so abandon'd to her sorrow As it
is spoke, she never will admit me.
DUKE. Be clamorous and leap all civil bounds Rather than make
unprofited return.
VIOLA. Say I do speak with her, my lord, what then?
DUKE. O, then unfold the passion of my love, Surprise her with
discourse of my dear faith! It shall become thee well to act my woes;
She will attend it better in thy youth Than in a nuncio's of more
grave aspect.
VIOLA. I think not so, my lord.
DUKE. Dear lad, believe it; For they shall yet belie thy happy years,
That say thou art a man: Diana's lip Is not more smooth and rubious;
thy small pipe Is as the maiden's organ, shrill and sound, And all is
semblative a woman's part. I know thy constellation is right apt For
this affair. Some four or five attend him; All, if you will; for I
myself am best When least in company. Prosper well in this, And thou
shalt live as freely as thy lord, To call his fortunes thine.
VIOLA. I'll do my best To woo your lady,-- [Aside] yet, a barful
strife! Whoe'er I woo, myself would be his wife.
[Exeunt.]