SCENE III. OLIVIA’S house.
Enter SIR TOBY BELCH and MARIA
What a plague means my niece, to take the death of
her brother thus? I am sure care’s an enemy to life.
By my troth, Sir Toby, you must come in earlier o’
nights: your cousin, my lady, takes great
exceptions to your ill hours.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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
An you part so, mistress, I would I might never
draw sword again. Fair lady, do you think you have
fools in hand?
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.
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!
Excellent; it hangs like flax on a distaff; and I
hope to see a housewife take thee between her legs
and spin it off.
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.
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,
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.
As any man in Illyria, whatsoever he be, under the
degree of my betters; and yet I will not compare
with an old man.
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.
Ay, ’tis strong, and it does indifferent well in a
flame-coloured stock. Shall we set about some revels?