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- Edition: Twelfth Night
Twelfth Night (Modern)
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1171.3
What a plague means my niece to take the 120death of her brother thus! I am sure care's an enemy to 121life.
By my troth, Sir Toby, you must come in earlier 123a-nights. Your cousin, my lady, takes great exceptions 124to your ill hours.
Why let her except, before excepted.
Ay, but you must confine yourself within the 127modest limits of order.
Confine? I'll confine myself no finer than I am! 129These clothes are good enough to drink in, and so be 130these boots too; an they be not, let them hang 131themselves in their own straps.
That quaffing and drinking will undo you. I 133heard my lady talk of it yesterday--and of a foolish 134knight that you brought in one night here, to be her wooer.
Who, Sir Andrew Aguecheek?
Ay, he.
He's as tall a man as any's in Illyria.
What's that to th'purpose?
Why, he has three thousand ducats a year.
Ay, but he'll have but a year in all these ducats. 141He's a very fool, and a prodigal.
Fie that you'll say so! He plays o'th'viol-de-gamboys, 143and speaks three or four languages word for word 144without book, and hath all the good gifts of nature.
He hath indeed, all most natural. For besides that 146he's a fool, he's a great quarreler; and but that he hath 147the gift of a coward, to allay the gust he hath in 148quarreling, 'tis thought among the prudent he would quickly 149have the gift of a grave.
By this hand, they are scoundrels and 151substractors that say so of him. Who are they?
They that add, moreover, he's drunk nightly 153in your company.
With drinking healths to my niece! I'll drink 155to her as long as there is a passage in my throat, and drink 156in Illyria. He's a coward and a coistrel that will not 157drink to my niece till his brains turn o'th'toe, like a 158parish top.
Sir Toby Belch! How now, Sir Toby Belch!
Sweet Sir Andrew!
Bless you, fair shrew.
And you too, sir.
Accost, Sir Andrew, accost!
What's that?
My niece's chambermaid.
Good Mistress Accost, I desire better acquaintance.
My name is Mary, sir.
Good Mistress Mary Accost--
[Aside to Sir Andrew] You mistake, knight. "Accost" is front her, board 172her, woo her, assail her.
[Aside to Sir Toby, indicating audience] By my troth, I would not undertake her in this 174company. Is that the meaning of "accost"?
Fare you well, gentlemen.
[Aside to Sir Andrew] An thou let part so, Sir Andrew, would thou 177might'st never draw sword again.
An you part so, mistress, I would I might never 179draw sword again! Fair lady, do you think you have 180fools in hand?
Sir, I have not you by th'hand.
Marry, but you shall have, and here's my hand.
[Taking his hand] Now sir, thought is free. I pray you, bring your 184hand to th'buttery bar, and let it drink.
Wherefore, sweetheart? What's your 186metaphor?
It's dry, sir.
Why, I think so. I am not such an ass but I 189can keep my hand dry. But what's your jest?
A dry jest, sir.
Are you full of them?
Ay, sir, I have them at my fingers' ends. [Letting go his hand] Marry, now 193I let go your hand, I am barren.
1.3.42.1Exit Maria.
O knight, thou lack'st a cup of canary. [Pouring wine] When did 195I see thee so put down?
Never in your life, I think, unless you see 197canary put me down. Methinks sometimes I have no 198more wit than a Christian or an ordinary man has. But I 199am a great eater of beef, and I believe that does harm 200to my wit.
No question.
An I thought that, I'd forswear it. I'll ride 203home tomorrow, Sir Toby.
Pourquoi, my dear knight?
What is pourquoi? "Do," or "not do"? I would I had 206bestowed that time in the tongues that I have in fencing, 207dancing, and bear-baiting. O had I but followed the 208arts!
Then hadst thou had an excellent head of hair.
Why, would that have mended my hair?
Past question, for thou see'st it will not curl by nature.
But it becomes me well enough, dost not?
Excellent! It hangs like flax on a distaff; and I hope 214to see a housewife take thee between her legs, and spin it off.
Faith, I'll home tomorrow, Sir Toby. Your niece will 216not be seen, or if she be, it's four to one she'll none of me. 217The count himself here hard by woos her.
She'll none o'th'count. She'll not match above her 219degree, neither in estate, years, nor wit; I have heard her 220swear't. Tut, there's life in't, man.
I'll stay a month longer. I am a fellow o'th' 222strangest mind i'th'world. I delight in masques and 223revels sometimes altogether.
Art thou good at these kickshawses, knight?
As any man in Illyria, whatsoever he be, under 226the degree of my betters; and yet I will not compare with 227an old man.
What is thy excellence in a galliard, knight?
Faith, I can cut a caper.
1.3.60.1[He dances.]
And I can cut the mutton to it.
And I think I have the back-trick simply as 232strong as any man in Illyria.
1.3.62.1[He demonstrates.]
Wherefore are these things hid? Wherefore have 234these gifts a curtain before 'em? Are they like to take 235dust, like Mistress Moll's picture? Why dost thou not go 236to church in a galliard, and come home in a coranto? 237My very walk should be a jig; I would not so much 238as make water but in a cinquepace! What dost thou 239mean! Is it a world to hide virtues in? I did think by 240the excellent constitution of thy leg, it was formed 241under the star of a galliard.
Ay, 'tis strong, and it does indifferent well in a 243flame-colored stock. Shall we set about some revels?
What shall we do else? Were we not born under 245Taurus!
Taurus? That's sides and heart.
No, sir, it is legs and thighs. Let me see thee 248caper.
1.3.67.1[Sir Andrew dances.]
1.3.68Ha, higher! Ha, ha, excellent!
1.3.68.1 Exeunt.