Sir To. By this hand, they are scoundrels and fubftractors 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 niece: I'll drink to her as long as there is a paffage in my throat, and drink in Illyria. He's a coward and a keftrel that will not drink to my niece till his brains turn o'th' toe like a parish-top. What, wench?

a

* Caftiliano volto! for here comes fir Andrew Ague-cheek.

SCENE IV.

Enter fir Andrew.

Sir And. Sir Toby Belch! how now, fir Toby Belch?

Sir To. Sweet fir Andrew!

Sir And. Bless you, fair fhrew.

Mar. And you too, fir.

Sir To. Accoft, fir Andrew, accoft.

Sir And. What's that?

Sir To. My niece's chambermaid.

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

Mar. My name is Mary, fir.

Sir And. Good miftrefs Mary Accoft.

Sir To. You mistake, knight: accost, is, front her, board her, woo 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. If thou let her part fo, fir Andrew, would thou might'st never draw fword again!

Sir And. If you part fo, mistress, 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.

By Caftilian countenance here he means her best, her most civil and courtly looks, which he bids ber put on becaufe fir Andrew is coming.

Mar.

Mar. Now, fir, 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, fir.

Sir And. Why, I think fo: I am not such an ass, but I can keep my hand dry. But what's your jeft? Mar. A dry jeft, fir.

Sir And. Are you full of them?

Mar. Ay, fir, Í have them at my fingers ends:

marry, now I [Exit Maria.

let go your hand, I am barren.

Sir To. O knight, thou lack'st a cup of canary: when did I fee thee fo put down?

Sir And. Never in your life, I think; unless you see canary put me down: methinks, fometimes 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.

Sir To. No question.

Sir And. If I thought that, I'd forfwear it. I'll ride home to-morrow, fir 7oby.

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 hadft thou had an excellent head of hair.
Sir And. Why, would that have mended my hair?

Sir To. Paft question; for thou seeft it will not curl by nature.
Sir And. But it becomes me well enough, does't not?
Sir To. Excellent, it hangs like flax on a distaff; and I hope
to fee a housewife take thee between her legs, and spin it off.

Sir And. 'Faith, I'll home to-morrow, fir Toby; your niece. will not be feen, or if fhe be, it's four to one she'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 cftate, years, nor wit; I have heard her swear. Tut, there's life in't, man.

Sir And. I'll stay a month longer. I am a fellow o'th' ftrangest

mind i'th' world: I delight in masks and revels fometimes altogether.

Sir To. Art thou good at these kickshaws, 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 these 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 so much as make water but in a cinque-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 star of a galliard.

Sir And. Ay, 'tis ftrong; and it does indifferent well in a flame-colour'd ftocking. Shall we set 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, fir, it is legs and thighs. Let me fee thee caper; ha! higher: ha! ha! excellent!

[Exeunt.

SCENE V.

The Palace.

Enter Valentine, and Viola in man's attire.

Val.F the duke continue these favours towards you, Cefario, you are like to be much advanc'd; he hath known you but three days, and already you are no stranger.

Val.IF

Vio. You either fear his humour, or my negligence, that you call in question the continuance of his love. Is he inconftant, fir, in his favours?

Val. No, believe me.

Enter Duke, Curio, and Attendants.

Vio. I thank you: here comes the duke.
Duke. Who faw Cefario, hoa?

Vio. On your attendance, my lord, here.
Duke. Stand you a while aloof. Cefario,
Thou know'ft no lefs, but all: I have unclafp'd
To thee the book even of my secret soul.
Therefore, good youth, address thy gait unto her,
Be not deny'd accefs, ftand at her doors,
And tell them, there thy fixed foot shall grow
Till thou have audience.

Vio. Sure, my noble lord,

If fhe be fo abandon'd to her forrow

As it is spoke, fhe never will admit me.

Duke. Be clamorous, and leap all civil bounds,
Rather than make unprofited return.

Vio. Say, I do fpeak with her, my lord; what then?
Duke. O, then, unfold the paffion of my love,
Surprize her with difcourfe of my dear faith:
It fhall become thee well to act my woes;
She will attend it better in thy youth,
Than in a nuncio of more grave afpect.

Vio. I think not fo, my lord.
Duke. Dear lad, believe it:

For they fhall yet belie thy happy years,
That fay, thou art a man: Diana's lip
Is not more smooth and rubious; thy fmall pipe
Is as the maiden's organ, fhrill and found,
And all is femblative a woman's part.

I know, thy conftellation is right apt
For this affair: fome four or five attend him,
VOL. II.

Iii

All,

All, if you will; for I myself am best
When leaft in company. Profper well in this,
And thou fhalt live as freely as thy lord,
To call his fortunes thine.

Vio. I'll do my best

To woo your lady: yet, o baneful strife!
Whoe'er I woo, myself would be his wife.

[Exeunt.

SCENE VI.
Olivia's house.

Enter Maria, and Clown.

Mar.

AY, either tell me where thou haft been, or I will not open my lips fo wide as a bristle may enter, in way of thy excufe: my lady will hang thee for thy abfence. Clo. Let her hang me; he that is well hang'd in this world needs fear no colours.

Mar. Make that good.

Clo. He fhall fee none to fear.

Mar. A good lenten answer: I can tell thee where that saying was born, of, I fear no colours.

Clo. Where, good miftrefs Mary?

Mar. In the wars; and that may you be bold to say in your foolery.

Clo. Well, god give them wisdom that have it; and those that are fools let them ufe their talents.

Mar. Yet you will be hang'd for being fo long abfent, or be turn'd away;" is not that as good as a hanging to you?

Clo. Many a good hanging prevents a bad marriage; and for turning away, let fummer bear it out.

Mar. You are resolute then ?

Clo. Not fo neither; but I am refolved on two points. Mar. That if one break, the other will hold; or, if both break, your gaskins fall.

Clo.