SCENE III.

_A Room in_ OLIVIA'S _House_.

_Enter_ MARIA _and_ SIR TOBY BELCH.

_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 niece, 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 have brought in here, to be her wooer.

_Sir To._ Who? Sir Andrew Ague-cheek?

_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._ Fye, that you'll say so! he plays o' the viol-de-gambo, and hath all the good gifts of nature.

_Mar._ He hath, indeed, all, most 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 band, 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--See, here comes Sir Andrew Ague-face.

[SIR ANDREW AGUE-CHEEK, _without_.

_Sir And._ Sir Toby Belch! how now, Sir Toby Belch?

_Sir To._ Sweet Sir Andrew!

_Enter_ 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 chamber-maid.

_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 part so, Sir Andrew, 'would thou might'st 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._ [_Takes his hand._] Now, sir, thought is free: I pray you, bring your hand to the buttery-bar, and let it drink.

_Sir And._ Wherefore, sweet-heart? 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, [_Lets go his hand._] 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._ An I thought that, I'd forswear it. I'll ride home to-morrow, Sir Toby.

_Sir To._ _Pourquoy_, my dear knight?

_Sir And._ What is _pourquoy_? 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 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 duke himself, here hard by, wooes her.

_Sir To._ She'll none o' the duke; 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 kick-shaws, knight?

_Sir And._ As any man in Illyria, whatsoever he be, under the degree of my betters; and yet I'll 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 them? 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 And._ Ay, 'tis strong, and it does indifferent well in a flame-colour'd 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._