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Because the will admit no kind of fuit,
No, not the Duke's.


Vio. There is a fair behaviour in thee, Captain; And tho' that nature with a beauteous wall Doth oft clofe in pollution; yet of thee, I will believe, thou haft a mind that fuits With this thy fair and outward character: I pr'ythee, and I'll pay thee bounteously, Conceal me what I am, and be my aid For fuch disguise as, haply, fhall become The form of my intent. I'll ferve this Duke; Thou shalt prefent me as an eunuch to him, It may be worth thy pains; for I can fing, And speak to him in many forts of musick, That will allow me very worth his fervice, What else may hap, to time I will commit; Only shape thou thy filence to my wit. Cap. Be you his eunuch, and your mute I'll be: When my tongue blabs, then let mine eyes not fee. Vio. I thank thee; lead me on. [Exeunt.

Sir To.


An Apartment in Olivia's Houfe.

Enter Sir Toby, and Maria.


HAT 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.


Fll ferve this Duke ;] Viola is an excellent fchemer, never at a lofs; if the cannot

ferve the lady, fhe will ferve the Duke.

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Sir To. Confine? I'll confine myself no finer than I am; these cloaths are good enough to drink in, and fo 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 brought in one night here, to be her


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' violdegambo, and fpeaks three or four languages word for word without book, and hath all the good gifts of


A Mar. He hath, indeed, almost natural; for befides that he's a fool, he's a great quarreller; and bút that he hath the gift of a coward to allay the guft 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 fubtractors 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 neice: 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 coyftril, that will not drink to my neice 'till his brains turn o'th' toe like a parish-top. What, wench? Caftiliano Volgo; for here comes Sir Andrew Ague-cheek. SCENE

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Enter Sir Andrew.

Sir And. Sir Toby Belch! how now, Sir Toby Belch?
Sir To. Sweet Sir Andrew!

Sir And. Blefs you, fair fhrew.
Mar. And you too, Sir.

Sir To. Accoft, Sir Andrew, accoft,

Sir And. What's that?

Sir To. My neice's chamber-maid.

Sir And. Good miftrefs, Accoft, I defire better acquaintance.

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Mar. My name is Mary, Sir.

Sir And. Good mistress Mary Accoft,

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, miftrefs, 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 fhall have, and here's my hand.

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Mar. Now, Sir, 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 me taphor?

lemn looks. The Oxford Editor has taken my emendation: But, by Caftilian countenance, he, fuppoles is meant most civil and

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Mar. It's dry, Sir?.

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, Sir.

Sir And. Are you full of them?

Mar. Ay, Sir, 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?GR

Sir And. Never in your life, I think, unless you fee 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 queftion.

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 bestowed 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 hadit 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


Sir To. Excellent! it hangs like flax on a distaff;

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and I hope to fee a house-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 he 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, fhe'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' ftrangeft mind i'th' world: I delight in masks and revels fometimes altogether.

Sir To. Art thou good at thefe kick-fhaws, 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 fimply as ftrong as any man in Illyria.

Sir To. Wherefore are thefe things hid? wherefore have these gifts a curtain before them? are they like to take duft, like miftrefs 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 ftar of a Sir And. Ay, 'tis ftrong, and it does indifferent well in a flame-colour'd ftocking. Shall we fet about fome revels?

and yet I will not compare with an old man. This is "intended as a fatire on that common vanity of old men, in

preferring their own times, and the past generation, to the prefent.y WARBURTON.

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