SCENE, an Apartment in Olivia's Houfe. Enter Sir Toby, and Maria.. Sir To. W the death of her brother thus? I am HAT a plague means my niece, to take 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 E. 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 ftraps. 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. Sir To. Why he has three thousand ducats a-year. Mar. Ay, but he'll have but a year in all thefe ducats: he's a very fool, and a prodigal. Sir To. Fy, that you'll fay fo! he plays o'th' violde-gambo, and fpeaks three or four languages word for word without book, and hath all the good gifts of Nature. - Mar. He hath, indeed,- -almoft natural; for befides that he's a fool, he's a great quarreller; and but that he hath the gift of a coward to allay the guit 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 Mar. They that add moreover, he's drunk nightly in your company. Sir To. With drinking healths to my niece: I'lk 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 tura o'th' toe like a parish top. What, wench? Caftiliano vulgo for here comes Sir Andrew Ague-cheek. Enter Sir Andrew. Sir And. Sir Toby Belch! how now, Sir Toby Belch & Sir To. Sweet Sir Andrew! Sir And. Blefs you, fair Shrew. Sir Ta. Accoft, Sir Andrew, accoft. Sir And. What's that? Sir To. My niece's chamber-maid. Sir And. Good Miftrefs Accoft, I defire better acquaintance. Mar. My name is Mary, Sir. Sir, And. Good Mrs. Marry 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 accoft? Mar. Fare you well, Gentlemen. Sir To. An thou let her part fo, Sir Andrew, would thou might't 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. 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 metaphor ? Mar. It's dry, Sir Siz 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 jest, Sir. Sir And. Are you full of them Mar. Ay, Sir, I have them at my fingers ends: marry, now I let go your hand, I am barren. [Exit Marias Sir To. O Knight, thou lack'ft a cup of canary: when did I fee thee so put down? 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 question. Sir And. An I thought that, I'd forfwear it. I'l 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. (2) O, had 1 but follow'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. Pait queftion; for, thou feeft, it will not curl by nature. (2) Sir And. O, bad I but-foller'd the Arts! Sir To. Then had'ft thɔ bad an excellent bead of hair. Sir Six To. Paft question; for thou feeft it will not cool my rature,] Prodigious fagacity! and yet thus it has pafs'd down thro' all the printed copies. We cannot enough admire that happy indolence of Mr. Pope, which can acquiefce in tranfmitting to us fuch stuff for genuine fenfe and argument. The dialogue is of a very light, train, 'tis certain, betwixt two foolish Knights: but yet I would be very glad to know, methinks, what Sir Andrew's following the Arts, or his Hair being mended, could have to do with the cooling, or not couling, Sir Toby's nature. But my emendation clears up all this abfurdity and the context is an unexceptionable confirmation. Sir And. But it becomes me well enough, does't not? I 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 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 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' ftrangeft mind i'th' world: I delight in masks and revels fometimes altogether. Sir To. Art thou good at these kick-fhaws, Knight? : Sir And As any man in Illyria whatfoever 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, fim-ply as ftrong as any man in Illyria. Sir To. Wherefore are thefe things hid? wherefore have these gifts a curtain before 'em ? 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 I cannot pafs over the remarkable conundrum betwixt Sir Andrew · wishing he had follow'd the Arts, and Sir Toby's application of this to the ufing art in improving his bair: because I would obferve, what variety and what a contraft of character the Poet has preserv'd in this. pair of ridiculous Knights. Sir Toby has moderate natural parts, and a fmattering of education; which makes him always to be running his wit, and gives him a predominance over the other. Sir Andrew.. is a blockhead by nature, and unimproved by any acquirements from. art; and fo is made the very anvil to impofition and ridicule. think, by the excellent conftitution of thy leg, it was form'd under the ftar of a galliard.. Sir And. Ay, 'tis ftrong, and it does indifferent well in a flame-colour'd stocking. Shall we fet 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, Sir, it is legs and thighs.. Let me fee thee caper; ha! higher: ha, ha! excellent. SCENE changes to the Palace. [Exeunt Enter Valentine, and Viola in man's attire.. F the Duke continue these favours towards you, Val Cefario, you are like to be much advanced; he hath known you but three days, and already you are no ftranger. Vio. You either fear his humour, or my negligence, that you call in queftion the continuance of his love. Is he inconftant, Sir, in his favours ? Val. No, believe me. Enter Duke, Curio, and Attendants. Vio. I thank you: here comes the Duke. Vio. On your attendance, my lord, here. Duke. Stand you a-while aloof. Cefario, Thou knoweft 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 accefs, ftand at her doors, Vio. Sure, my noble Lord, If the be fo abandon'd to her forrow Duke. |