Twelfth Night | Page 5

troth, I would not undertake her in this company. Is that the meaning of accost?
MARIA. Fare you well, gentlemen.
SIR TOBY. An thou let part so, Sir Andrew, would thou mightst never draw sword again.
SIR ANDREW. An you part so, mistress, I would I might never draw sword again. Fair lady, do you think you have fools in hand?
MARIA. Sir, I have not you by the hand.
SIR ANDREW. 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.
SIR ANDREW. Wherefore, sweetheart? what's your metaphor?
MARIA. It's dry, sir.
SIR ANDREW. 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.
SIR ANDREW. 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 MARIA.]
SIR TOBY. O knight, thou lack'st a cup of canary: When did I see thee so put down?
SIR ANDREW. 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 great eater of beef, and, I believe, that does harm to my wit.
SIR TOBY. No question.
SIR ANDREW. An I thought that, I'd forswear it. I'll ride home to-morrow, Sir Toby.
SIR TOBY. Pourquoy, my dear knight?
SIR ANDREW. 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. Oh, had I but followed the arts!
SIR TOBY. Then hadst thou had an excellent head of hair.
SIR ANDREW. Why, would that have mended my hair?
SIR TOBY. Past question; for thou seest it will not curl by nature.
SIR ANDREW. But it becomes me well enough, does't not?
SIR TOBY. Excellent; it hangs like flax on a distaff; and I hope to see a houswife take thee between her legs and spin it off.
SIR ANDREW. 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. She'll none o' the Count; she'll not match above her degree, neither in estate, years, nor wit; I have heard her swear't. Tut, there's life in't, man.
SIR ANDREW. 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.
SIR TOBY. Art thou good at these kick-shaws, knight?
SIR ANDREW. 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. What is thy excellence in a galliard, knight?
SIR ANDREW. Faith, I can cut a caper.
SIR TOBY. And I can cut the mutton to't.
SIR ANDREW. And, I think, I have the back-trick simply as strong as any man in Illyria.
SIR TOBY. Wherefore are these things hid? wherefore have these gifts a curtain before them? 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 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. Ay, 'tis strong, and it does indifferent well in flame-colour'd stock. Shall we set about some revels?
SIR TOBY. What shall we do else? were we not born under Taurus?
SIR ANDREW. Taurus? that's sides and heart.
SIR TOBY. No, sir; it is legs and thighs. Let me see thee caper: ha, higher: ha, ha!--excellent!
[Exeunt.]

SCENE IV. A Room in the DUKE'S Palace.
[Enter VALENTINE, and VIOLA in man's attire.]
VALENTINE. If the duke continue these favours towards you, Cesario, you are like to be much advanced; he hath known you but three days, and already you are no stranger.
VIOLA. You either fear his humour or my negligence, that you call in question the continuance of his love. Is he inconstant, sir, in his favours?
VALENTINE. No, believe me.
[Enter DUKE, CURIO, and Attendants.]
VIOLA. I thank you. Here comes the count.
DUKE. Who saw Cesario, ho?
VIOLA. On your attendance, my lord; here.
DUKE. Stand you awhile aloof.--Cesario, Thou know'st no less but all; I have unclasp'd To thee the book even of my secret soul: Therefore, good youth, address thy gait unto her; Be not denied access, stand at her doors, And tell them there thy fixed foot shall grow Till thou have audience.
VIOLA. Sure, my noble lord, If she be so abandon'd to her sorrow As it is spoke, she never will admit