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 o'nights; your cousin, 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 I am : thefe clothes are good enough to drink in, and so 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.

Mar. What's that to the 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'the viol-degambo, and speaks 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 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 substractors, that fay fo of him. Who are they?

Mar. They that add

your company.

moreover, he's drunk nightly in

B 3

Sir To

Sir To. With drinking healths to my niece; 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 coystril, that will not drink to my niece, till his brains turn o'the toe like a parish-top. What, wench? Caftiliano vulgo; for here comes Sir Andrew Ague-face.

Enter SIR ANDREW AGUE-CHEEK.

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

Sir And. Bless you, fair shrew.

Mar. And you too, fir.

Sir To. Accoft, fir Andrew, accoft.

Sir And. What's that?

Sir To. My niece's chamber-maid.

Sir And. Good mistress Accoft, I defire better acquaint

ance.

Mar. My name is Mary, fir.

Sir And. Good Mistress Mary Accost,

Sir To. You mistake, knight: accoft, 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. An thou let part fo, fir Andrew, 'would thou might'ft never draw fword again.

Sir And. An 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 the hand.

Sir And. Marry, but you shall have; and here's my hand. Mar. Now, fir, thought is free: I pray you, bring your hand to the buttery-bar, and let it drink.

Sir And.

Sir And. Wherefore, fweet heart? what's your metaphor ?

Mar. It's dry, fir.

Sir And. Why, I think fo; I am not fuch an ass, but I can keep my hand dry. But what's your jeft?

Mar. A dry jest, fir.

Sir And. Are you full of them?

Mar. Ay, fir; I have them at my fingers' ends: marry, now I let go your hand, I am barren.

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

[Exit MARIA. canary:

Sir And. Never in your life, I think; unless you see 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, fir 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 hadft thou an excellent head of hair.

Sir And. Why, would that have mended my hair?
Sir To. Palt queftion; 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 see a housewife take thee between her legs, and fpin it off.

Sir And. 'Faith, I'll home to-morrow, Sir Toby: you niece will not be feen; or, if the be, it's four to one the

none of me: the count himself, here hard by, wooes her.

Sir To. She'll none o'the count; fhe'll not match above her degree, neither, in estate, 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'the ftrangeft mind i'the world; I delight in mafques and revels fometimes altogether.

Sir To. Art thou good at these kick-shaws, 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, simply as ftrong as any man in Illyria.

Sir To. Wherefore are these things hid? wherefore have these gifts a curtain before them? are they like to take duft, 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 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 star of a galliard.

Sir And. Ay, 'tis strong, and it does indifferent well in a flame-colour'd stock. Shall we fet about some 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. thee caper: ha! higher: ha, ha!-excellent!

Let me fee [Exeunt.

SCENE

SCENE IV.

A Room in the Duke's Palace.

Enter VALENTINE, and VIOLA in man's attire.

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

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 count.

Duke. Who faw Cefario, ho?

Vio. On your attendance, my lord; here. Duke. Stand you awhile aloof.-Cefario, Thou know'st 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 access, stand at her doors,

And tell them, there thy fixed foot fhall grow,
Till thou have audience.

Vio.

Sure, my noble lord,

If the be fo abandon'd to her forrow

As it is spoke, she never will admit me.

Duke. Be clamorous, and leap all civil bounds,

Rather than make unprofited return.

Vio. Say, I do speak with her, my lord; What then?

Duke. O, then unfold the paffion of my love,

Surprize her with difcourfe of my dear faith: