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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. 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 |
AGUECHEEK. Sir Toby Belch! How now, Sir Toby Belch! |
SIR TOBY. Sweet Sir Andrew! |
AGUECHEEK. Bless you, fair shrew. |
MARIA. And you too, sir. |
SIR TOBY. Accost, Sir Andrew, accost. |
AGUECHEEK. What's that? |
SIR TOBY. My niece's chambermaid. |
AGUECHEEK. Good Mistress Accost, I desire better acquaintance. |
MARIA. My name is Mary, sir. |
AGUECHEEK. Good Mistress Mary Accost- |
SIR Toby. You mistake, knight. 'Accost' is front her, board her, |
woo her, assail her. |
AGUECHEEK. 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! |
AGUECHEEK. 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 th' hand. |
AGUECHEEK. Marry, but you shall have; and here's my hand. |
MARIA. Now, sir, thought is free. I pray you, bring your hand to |
th' buttry-bar and let it drink. |
AGUECHEEK. Wherefore, sweetheart? What's your metaphor? |
MARIA. It's dry, sir. |
AGUECHEEK. 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. |
AGUECHEEK. 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 lack'st a cup of canary! When did I see |
thee so put down? |
AGUECHEEK. 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. |
SIR TOBY. No question. |
AGUECHEEK. An I thought that, I'd forswear it. I'll ride home |
to-morrow, Sir Toby. |
SIR TOBY. Pourquoi, my dear knight? |
AGUECHEEK. 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. Oh, had I but followed the arts! |
SIR TOBY. Then hadst thou had an excellent head of hair. |
AGUECHEEK. Why, would that have mended my hair? |
SIR TOBY. Past question; for thou seest it will not curl by nature. |
AGUECHEEK. 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 huswife take thee between her legs and spin it off. |
AGUECHEEK. 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. 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. |
AGUECHEEK. 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? |
AGUECHEEK. 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? |
AGUECHEEK. Faith, I can cut a caper. |
SIR TOBY. And I can cut the mutton to't. |
AGUECHEEK. 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 |
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