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SCE N E, an Apartment in Olivia's House.

Enter Sir Toby, and Maria. Sir To. HAT a plague means my niece, to take

the death of her brother thus ? I am: sure, care's an enemy to life.

Mar. By my troth, Sir Toby, you must come in ear. lier a-nights ; your niece, my Lady, takes great ex. ceptions to your ill hours. Sir To. Why, let her except, before excepted.

Mar. Ay, but you muft confine yourself within the modeft limits of order..

Sir To. Confine ? I'll confine myself no finer than I. am; these cloaths are good enough to drink in, and so be these boots too; an they be not, let them hang themselves in their own straps.

Mar. That quaffing and drinking will undo you ; I heard my Lady talk of it yesterday, and of a foolith knight that you brought in one night here, to be her: woder?

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 th' purpose ?
Sir To. Why he has three thousand ducats a year.

Mar. Ay, but he'll have but a year in all these duo cats : he's a very fool, and a prodigal.

Sir To. Fy, that you'll fay fo! he plays o'th' violde-gambo, and speaks three or four languages word for:word without book, and hath all the good gitis of Nature.

Mar. He hath, indeed, -almost 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 gutt he hach in quarrelling, 'tis thought among the prudent, he would quickly have the gift of a grave.

Sir To. By this hand, they are scoundrels and subtractors that say so of him. Who are they?


Mar. They that add moreover, he's drunk nightiya in your company.

Sir To. With drinking healths to my niece : I'll drink to her as long as there's a passage 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. Bless you, fair Shrew. Mar. And you too, Sir. Sur. To. Accoft, Sir Andrew, accoft.Sir And. What's that? Sir To. My niece's chamber-maid.

Sir And. Good Mistress Accoft, I dellre better ace quaintance.

Mar. My name is Mary, Sir.
Sir, And. Guod Mrs. Marry Accoft,-

Sir To. You mistake, Knight: accoft, is, front herz board her, wooe her, asfail 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'it never draw sword again.

Sir And. An you part.fo, mistress, I would. I might, never draw sword again. Fair Lady, do you think you have fools in hand ?

Mar. Şir, I have not you.by th' hand.

Sir And. Marry, but you shall 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, Sweet-heart? what's your me... taphor?

Mar. It's dry, Şir,

Sir And. Why, I think so: I am not such an ats, but I can keep my hand dry. But what's your jest ?

Mar. A dry jett, 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 Maria: Sir To. O Knight, thou lack'it a cup of canary : when did I see thee so put down?

Sir And. 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 bas ;. 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 forswear it. I'll ride home to-morrow, Sir Toby.

Sir T. Pourquoy, my dear Knight?

Sir And. What is Pourquoy? do, or not do? I would, I. had betowed that time in the tongues that I have in fencing, dancing, and bear-baiting. (2) 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. Pait question; for, thou seelt, it will not curl by nature,


(2) Sir And. 0, bad 1 bit-follow'd be Arts !
Sir To. Then had'

A obou bad on excellent bead of bain
Sir And. Why, would tbet bave munded my bair ?

Six To. Past question ; for thou seeft it will not cool my. rature, ] Prodi:ious sagacity! and yet thus it has pass’d down thro' all the printed copies. We cannot enough admire that bappy indolence of Mfr. Pope, which can acquiesce in transmitting to us fuch stuff for genuine sense and argument. The dialogue is of a very light. Atrain, 'eis 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 coule isng, Sir T.by's nature. But my emendation clears up all this ablurdity: and i he context is an unexceptionable confirmation.

Sir And. But it becomes me well enough, does's not ?
Şir To, Excellent !.. ir bangs like fax on a difeff, &c.

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 spin it off.

Sir And. Faith, I'll home to-morrow, Sir Toby; your niece will not be seen, or, if she be, it's four to one The'll none of me: the Duke himself here, hard by, wooes her.

Şir To. She'll none o'th'Duke, she'll not match above · her degree, neither in estate, years, nor wit; I have heard her swear it. 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 sometimes altogether.

Sir To. Art thou good at these kick-fhaws, Knight?

Sir Anda 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 à caper. Sir To. And I can cut the mutton to't.

Sir And. And, I think, I have the back-trick, fim.. ply as strong 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 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 fink-a-pace : what. dost thou mean? is it a world to hide virtues in? I did,

I cannot pass over the remarkable conundrum betwixt Sir Andrew wishing he had follow'd the Arts, and Sir Toby's application of this to the using art in improving his bair: because I would obferve, what variety and what a contrast of character the Poet has preserv'd in this. pair of ridiculous Knights. Sir Toby has moderate natural parts, and a smattering of education ; which makes him always to be running his wit, and gives him a predominance over the oiher. Sir Andrew. is a block head by nature, and unimproved by any acquirements from art, and so is made the very anvil to impofition and ridicule.

think, by the excellent conftitution of thy leg, it was form'd under the star of a galliard..

Sir And. Ay, 'tis itrong, and it does indifferent well in a flame-colour'd stocking. Shall we set about some revels ?

Sir To. What shall we do else 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.


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SCENE changes to the Palace.

Valu be

Enter Valentine, and Viola in man's attire.. Wala F the Duke continue these favours towards you, 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, Sir, in his favours?

Val. No, believe me.

Enter Duke, Curio, and Attendants,
Vio. I thank you : here comes the Duke,
Duke. Who saw Cefario, hoa ?
Vio. On your attendance, my lord, here.'
Duke. Stand you a-while aloof. Cefario,
Thou knoweft no less, but all: I have unclasp'd
To thee the book even of my secret soul.
Therefore, good youth, address thy gate unto her;
Be not deny'd access, stand at her doors,
And tell them, there thy fixed foot shall grow
'Till thou have aud ience.

Vio. Sure, my noble Lord,
If she be fo abandon'd to her sorrow
As it is spoke, he never will admit me.


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