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SCENE. III. An apartment in Olivia's house.

Ener Sir Toby, and Maria.

Sir To. What a plague means my niece, to take the death of her brother thus? I am fure, care's an enemy to life.

MAR. By my troth, Sir Toby, you must come in earlier a-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 modeft limits of order.

Sir To. Confine? I'll confine myself no finer than I am; these cloaths are good enough to drink in, and fo be thefe 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 brought in one night 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 th' 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. Fie, that you'll fay fo! he plays o' th' violdeganbo, and speaks three or four languages word for word without book, and hath all the good gifts of nature.

MAR. He hath, indeed,- -almost natural; for befides that he's a fool, he's a 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 hand, they are fcoundrels and subtractors that fay fo 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's a paffage 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'th' toe like a parish-top. What, wench? Caftiliano Volgo; for here comes Sir Andrew Ague-cheek.

SCENE IV. Enter Sir Andrew.

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Sir AND. Good mistress Mary Accost,

Sir To. You mistake, knight: accoft, is, front her, board her, wooe 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. An thou let her part fo, Sir Andrew, would thou might'ft never draw fword again.

Sir AND. An you part fo, mistress, I would I might never

draw fword again. Fair lady, do you think, you have fools in hand?

MAR. Sir, I have not you by th' hand.

Sir AND. Marry, but you shall have, and here's my hand. MAR. Now, fir, thought is free: I pray you, bring your hand to th' buttery-bar, and let it drink.

Sir AND. Wherefore, fweet heart? what's your metaphor?

MAR. It's dry, fir.

Sir AND. Why, I think fo: I am not fuch an afs, but I can keep my hand dry. But what's your jeft?

MAR. A dry jeft, fir.

Sir AND. Are you full of them?

MAR. Ay, fir, I have them at my fingers ends: marry, now I let your hand go, I am barren.

[Exit Maria. Sir To. O knight, thou lack'ft a cup of canary: when did I fee thee fo put down?

Sir AND. Never in your life, I think, unless you see canary put me down: methinks, fometimes I have no more wit than a chriftian, 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 forfwear 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 beftowed that time in the tongues that I have in fencing, dancing, and bear-baiting. O, had I but fellow'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. Paft queftion; for thou feeft, 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 diftaff; and I hope to see a houfe-wife take thee between her legs, and fpin it off.

Sir AND. Faith, I'll home to-morrow, Sir Toby; your niece will not be feen, or, if she be, it's four to one fhe'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 eftate, years, nor wit; I have heard her fwear it. 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 fometimes 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 will 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 ftrong as any man in Illyria.

Sir To. Wherefore are these things hid? wherefore have thefe gifts a curtain before them? are they like to take duft, like mistress Mall's picture? why doft thou not go to church in a galliard, and come home in a coranto? my very walk fhould be a jig! I would not fo much as make water, but in a fink-a-pace: what doft thou mean? is it a world to hide virtues in? I did think, by the excellent conftitution of thy leg, it was form'd under the star of a galliard.

Sir AND. Ay, 'tis ftrong, and it does indifferent well in a flame-colour'd stocking. Shall we set about fome revels?

Sir To. What fhall we do elfe? were we not born under Taurus?

Sir AND. Taurus? that's fides and heart.

Sir To. No, fir, it is legs and thighs. Let me fee thee caper; ha! higher: ha, ha!—excellent.

SCENE II. Changes to the palace.

[Exeunt.

Enter Valentine, and Viola in man's attire.

VAL. If the duke continue these favours towards you, Cefario, 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 call in question the continuance of his love. Is he inconftant, fir, in his favours?

VAL. No, believe me,

Enter Duke, Curio, and attendants.

Vio. I thank you: here comes the duke.
DUKE Who faw Cefario, hoa?

Vio. On your attendance, my lord, here.
DUKE. Stand you a while aloof.-Cefario,
Thou know'it no lefs, but all: I have unclafp'd
To thee the book even of my fecret foul.
Therefore, good youth, addrefs thy gate unto her;
Be not deny'd access, stand at her doors,
And tell them, there thy fixed foot shall grow,
'Till thou have audience.

Vio. Sure, my noble lord,

If the be fo abandon'd to her forrow

As it is fpoke, the never will admit me.

DUKE. Be clamorous, and leap all civil bounds, Rather than make usprofited return.

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