SIR TOBY. What a plague means my niece to take the death of her  brother thus? I am sure care's an enemy to life.

        MARIA. By my troth, Sir Toby, you must come in earlier o' nights; your cousin, my lady, takes great exceptions to your ill hours.

        SIR TOBY. Why, let her except before excepted.

        MARIA. Ay, but you must confine yourself within the modest limits of order.

        SIR TOBY. 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.

        MARIA. 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 TOBY. Who? Sir Andrew Aguecheek?

        MARIA. Ay, he.

        SIR TOBY. He's as tall a man as any's in Illyria.

        MARIA. What's that to th' purpose?

        SIR TOBY. Why, he has three thousand ducats a year.

        MARIA. Ay, but he'll have but a year in all these ducats; he's a very fool and a prodigal.

        SIR TOBY. Fie that you'll say so! He plays o' th' viol-de-gamboys, and speaks three or four languages word for word without book,  and hath all the good gifts of nature.

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

        MARIA. They that add, moreover, he's drunk nightly in your company.

        SIR TOBY. 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 coystrill that will not drink to my niece till his brains turn o' th' toe like a parish-top. What, wench!

          Castiliano vulgo! for here comes Sir Andrew Agueface.

      AGUECHEEK. Sir Toby Belch! How now, Sir Toby Belch!

        SIR TOBY. Sweet Sir Andrew!

        AGUECHEEK. Bless you, fair shrew.

        MARIA. And you too, sir.

        SIR TOBY. Accost, Sir Andrew, accost.

        AGUECHEEK. What's that?

        SIR TOBY. My niece's chambermaid.

        AGUECHEEK. Good Mistress Accost, I desire better acquaintance.

        MARIA. My name is Mary, sir.

        AGUECHEEK. Good Mistress Mary Accost-

        SIR Toby. You mistake, knight. 'Accost' is front her, board

      her, woo her, assail her.

        AGUECHEEK. By my 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!

        AGUECHEEK. 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 th' hand.

        AGUECHEEK. Marry, but you shall have; and here's my hand.

        MARIA. Now, sir, thought is free. I pray you, bring your hand to th' buttry-bar and let it drink.

        AGUECHEEK. Wherefore, sweetheart? What's your metaphor?

        MARIA. It's dry, sir.

        AGUECHEEK. 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.

        AGUECHEEK. 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?

        AGUECHEEK. 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.

        AGUECHEEK. An I thought that, I'd forswear it. I'll ride home to-morrow, Sir Toby.

        SIR TOBY. Pourquoi, my dear knight?

        AGUECHEEK. What is 'pourquoi'– 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.

        AGUECHEEK. Why, would that have mended my hair?

        SIR TOBY. Past question; for thou seest it will not curl by nature.

        AGUECHEEK. But it becomes me well enough,