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Enter Viola, Captain, and Sailors.
Vio. What country, friends, is this?
Vio. And what should I do in Illyria? My brother he is in Elysium.
Perchance, he is not drown'd:-What think you, sailors?
Cap. It is perchance, that you yourself were
Vio. O my poor brother! and so, perchance, may
Cap. True, madam: and, to comfort you with chance,
Assure yourself, after our ship did split,
When you, and that poor number saved with you,
(Courage and hope both teaching him the practice)
For saying so, there's gold:
Mine own escape unfoldeth to my hope,
Whereto thy speech serves for authority,
The like of him. Know'st thou this country?>
Vio. Who governs here?
Vio. Orsino! I have heard my father name him:
He was a bachelor then.
And so is now,
Or was so very late; for but a month
Ago I went from hence; and then 'twas fresh
The love of fair Olivia.
Cap. A virtuous maid, the daughter of a count That died some twelvemonth since; then leaving her
In the protection of his son, her brother,
O, that I served that lady;
That were hard to compass;
Because she will admit no kind of suit,
No, not the duke's.
Vio. There is a fair behaviour in thee, captain;
I will believe, thou hast a mind that suits
Cap. Be you his eunuch, and your mute I'll be: When my tongue blabs, then let mine eyes not see! Vio. I thank thee: lead me on.
A room in Olivia's house.
Enter Sir Toby Belch, and Maria.
Sir To. What a plague means my niece, to take the death of her brother thus? I am sure, care's an enemy to life.
Mar. By 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 modest limits of order.
Sir To. Confine? I'll confine myself no finer than I am these clothes 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 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 say so! he plays o'the viol-de-gambo, and speaks three or four languages
word for word without book, and hath all the good gifts of nature.
Mar. He hath, indeed, almost natural: for, besides that he's a fool, he's a great quarreller; and, but that he hath the gift of a coward to allay the gust 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 scoundrels, and substractors, that say so 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 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 tnrn o' the toe, like a parish-top. What, wench? Castiliano vulgo; for here comes SirAndrew Ague-face.
Enter Sir Andrew Ague-cheek.
Sir And. Sir Toby Belch! how now,
Sir To. Sweet Sir Andrew!
Sir And. Bless you, fair shrew.
Mar. And you too, sir.
Sir To. Accost, Sir Andrew, accost.
Sir And. What's that?
Sir To. My neice's chamber-maid.
Sir And. Good mistress Accost, I desire better acquaintance.
Mar. My name is Mary, sir.
Sir And. Good mistress Mary Accost,
Sir To. You mistake, knight: accost, is, front her, board her, woo her, assail her.
Sir And. By my troth, I would not undertake her in this company. Is that the meaning of ac
Mar. Fare you well, gentlemen.
* Keystril, a bastard hawk.
Sir To. An thou let part so, Sir Andrew, 'would thou might'st never draw sword again.
Sir And. An you part so, mistress, I would I might never draw sword 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, sir, thought is free: I pray you, bring your hand to the buttery-bar, and let it drink.
Sir And. Wherefore, sweet? heart what's your metaphor?
Mar. It's dry, sir.
Sir And. Why, I think so; I am not such an ass, but I can keep my hand dry. But what's your jest? Mar. A dry jest, 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'st 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 has: 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 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: 0, had I but followed the arts!
Sir To. Then hadst thou had an excellent bead of hair.
Sir And. Why, would that have mended my hair? Sir To. Past question; for thou seest, it will not curl by nature.