Act I, Scene 3

OLIVIA’S house.

[Enter SIR TOBY BELCH and MARIA]

• Sir Toby Belch. 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. 120

• Sir Toby Belch. Why, let her except, before excepted.

• Maria. Ay, but you must confine yourself within the modest
  limits of order.

• Sir Toby Belch. Confine! I'll confine myself no finer than I am:
  these clothes are good enough to drink in; and so be 125
  these boots too: 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. 130

• Sir Toby Belch. Who, Sir Andrew Aguecheek?

• Maria. Ay, he.

• Sir Toby Belch. He's as tall a man as any's in Illyria.

• Maria. What's that to the purpose?

• Sir Toby Belch. Why, he has three thousand ducats a year. 135

• Maria. Ay, but he'll have but a year in all these ducats:
  he's a very fool and a prodigal.

• Sir Toby Belch. 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 140
  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 145
  he would quickly have the gift of a grave.

• Sir Toby Belch. 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 Belch. With drinking healths to my niece: I'll drink to 150
  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. 155

[Enter SIR ANDREW]

• Sir Andrew Aguecheek. Sir Toby Belch! how now, Sir Toby Belch!

• Sir Toby Belch. Sweet Sir Andrew!

• Sir Andrew Aguecheek. Bless you, fair shrew.

• Maria. And you too, sir. 160

• Sir Toby Belch. Accost, Sir Andrew, accost.

• Sir Andrew Aguecheek. What's that?

• Sir Toby Belch. My niece's chambermaid.

• Sir Andrew Aguecheek. Good Mistress Accost, I desire better acquaintance.

• Maria. My name is Mary, sir. 165

• Sir Andrew Aguecheek. Good Mistress Mary Accost,—

• Sir Toby Belch. You mistake, knight; 'accost' is front her, board
  her, woo her, assail her.

• Sir Andrew Aguecheek. By my troth, I would not undertake her in this
  company. Is that the meaning of 'accost'? 170

• Maria. Fare you well, gentlemen.

• Sir Toby Belch. An thou let part so, Sir Andrew, would thou mightst
  never draw sword again.

• Sir Andrew Aguecheek. An you part so, mistress, I would I might never
  draw sword again. Fair lady, do you think you have 175
  fools in hand?

• Maria. Sir, I have not you by the hand.

• Sir Andrew Aguecheek. Marry, but you shall have; and here's my hand.

• Maria. Now, sir, 'thought is free:' I pray you, bring
  your hand to the buttery-bar and let it drink. 180

• Sir Andrew Aguecheek. Wherefore, sweet-heart? what's your metaphor?

• Maria. It's dry, sir.

• Sir Andrew 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. 185

• Sir Andrew 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]

• Sir Toby Belch. O knight thou lackest a cup of canary: when did I 190
  see thee so put down?

• Sir Andrew 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 a
  great eater of beef and I believe that does harm to my wit. 195

• Sir Toby Belch. No question.

• Sir Andrew Aguecheek. An I thought that, I'ld forswear it. I'll ride home
  to-morrow, Sir Toby.

• Sir Toby Belch. Pourquoi, my dear knight?

• Sir Andrew Aguecheek. What is 'Pourquoi'? do or not do? I would I had 200
  bestowed that time in the tongues that I have in
  fencing, dancing and bear-baiting: O, had I but
  followed the arts!

• Sir Toby Belch. Then hadst thou had an excellent head of hair.

• Sir Andrew Aguecheek. Why, would that have mended my hair? 205

• Sir Toby Belch. Past question; for thou seest it will not curl by nature.

• Sir Andrew Aguecheek. But it becomes me well enough, does't not?

• Sir Toby Belch. Excellent; it hangs like flax on a distaff; and I
  hope to see a housewife take thee between her legs
  and spin it off. 210

• Sir Andrew 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 Belch. She'll none o' the count: she'll not match above
  her degree, neither in estate, years, nor wit; I 215
  have heard her swear't. Tut, there's life in't,
  man.

• Sir Andrew Aguecheek. 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. 220

• Sir Toby Belch. Art thou good at these kickshawses, knight?

• Sir Andrew 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 Belch. What is thy excellence in a galliard, knight? 225

• Sir Andrew Aguecheek. Faith, I can cut a caper.

• Sir Toby Belch. And I can cut the mutton to't.

• Sir Andrew Aguecheek. And I think I have the back-trick simply as strong
  as any man in Illyria.

• Sir Toby Belch. Wherefore are these things hid? wherefore have 230
  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 235
  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.

• Sir Andrew Aguecheek. Ay, 'tis strong, and it does indifferent well in a
  flame-coloured stock. Shall we set about some revels? 240

• Sir Toby Belch. What shall we do else? were we not born under Taurus?

• Sir Andrew Aguecheek. Taurus! That's sides and heart.

• Sir Toby Belch. No, sir; it is legs and thighs. Let me see the
  caper; ha! higher: ha, ha! excellent!

[Exeunt]