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And I thought that, I’d forswear it. I’ll ride home tomorrow,

       Sir Toby.

       SIR TOBY.

       Pourquoi, my dear knight?

       SIR ANDREW. What is ‘pourquoi’? do or not do? I would I had bestow’d that time in the tongues that I have in fencing, dancing, and bear-baiting! O, had I but follow’d the arts!

       SIR TOBY.

       Then hadst thou had an excellent head of hair.

       SIR ANDREW.

       Why, would that have mended my hair?

       SIR TOBY.

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

       SIR ANDREW.

       But it becomes me well enough, does’t not?

       SIR TOBY.

       Excellent; it hangs like flax on a distaff.

       SIR ANDREW. Faith, I’ll home tomorrow, Sir Toby. Your niece will not be seen; or, if she be, it’s four to one she’ll none of me: the count himself here hard by wooes her.

       SIR TOBY. She’ll none o’ th’ count. She’ll not match above her degree, neither in estate, years, nor wit; I have heard her swear’t. Tut, there’s life in’t, man.

       SIR ANDREW. I’ll stay a month longer. I am a fellow o’ th’ strangest mind i’ th’ world; I delight in masques and revels sometimes altogether.

       SIR TOBY.

       Art thou good at these kickshawses, knight?

       SIR ANDREW. 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 TOBY.

       What is thy excellence in a galliard, knight?

       SIR ANDREW.

       Faith, I can cut a caper.

       SIR TOBY.

       And I can cut the mutton to’t.

       SIR ANDREW.

       And I think I have the back-trick simply as strong as any man in

       Illyria.

       SIR TOBY. 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. What dost thou mean? is it a world to hide virtues in? I did think, by the excellent constitution of thy leg, it was form’d under the star of a galliard.

       SIR ANDREW. Ay, ‘t is strong, and it does indifferent well in flame-colour’d stock. Shall we set about some revels?

       SIR TOBY.

       What shall we do else? were we not born under Taurus?

       SIR ANDREW.

       Taurus! That’s sides and heart.

       SIR TOBY. No, sir; it is legs and thighs. Let me see the caper. Ha! higher! ha, ha, excellent!

       [Exeunt.]

       SCENE IV. The DUKE’S palace.

       [Enter VALENTINE, and VIOLA in man’s attire.]

       VALENTINE. If the duke continue these favours towards you, Cesario, you are like to be much advanc’d. He hath known you but three days, and already you are no stranger.

       VIOLA. You either fear his humour or my negligence, that you call in question the continuance of his love. Is he inconstant, sir, in his favours?

       VALENTINE.

       No, believe me.

       VIOLA.

       I thank you. Here comes the Count.

       [Enter DUKE, CURIO, and ATTENDANTS.]

       DUKE.

       Who saw Cesario, ho?

       VIOLA.

       On your attendance, my lord; here.

       DUKE.

       Stand you awhile aloof. Cesario,

       Thou know’st no less but all; I have unclasp’d

       To thee the book even of my secret soul.

       Therefore, good youth, address thy gait unto her;

       Be not denied access, stand at her doors,

       And tell them, there thy fixed foot shall grow

       Till thou have audience.

       VIOLA.

       Sure, my noble lord,

       If she be so abandon’d to her sorrow

       As it is spoke, she never will admit me.

       DUKE.

       Be clamorous and leap all civil bounds

       Rather than make unprofited return.

       VIOLA.

       Say I do speak with her, my lord, what then?

       DUKE.

       O, then unfold the passion of my love,

       Surprise her with discourse of my dear faith!

       It shall become thee well to act my woes;

       She will attend it better in thy youth

       Than in a nuncio’s of more grave aspect.

       VIOLA.

       I think not so, my lord.

       DUKE.

       Dear lad, believe it;

       For they shall yet belie thy happy years,

       That say thou art a man: Diana’s lip

       Is not more smooth and rubious; thy small pipe

       Is as the maiden’s organ, shrill and sound,

       And all is semblative a woman’s part.

       I know thy constellation is right apt

       For this affair. Some four or five attend him;

       All, if you will; for I myself am best

       When least in company. Prosper well in this,

       And thou shalt live as freely as thy lord,

       To call his fortunes thine.

       VIOLA.

       I’ll do my best

       To woo your lady,— [Aside] yet, a barful strife!

       Whoe’er I woo, myself would be his wife.

       [Exeunt.]

       SCENE V. OLIVIA’S house.

       [Enter MARIA and CLOWN.]

       MARIA. Nay, either tell me where thou hast been, or I will not open my lips so wide as a bristle may enter in way of thy excuse. My lady will hang thee for thy absence.

       CLOWN. Let her hang me. He that is well hang’d in this world needs to fear no colours.

       MARIA.

       Make that good.

       CLOWN.

       He shall see none to fear.

       MARIA. A good lenten answer. I can tell thee where that saying was born, of ‘I fear no colours.’

       CLOWN.

       Where, good Mistress Mary?

       MARIA.

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

       CLOWN. Well, God give them wisdom that have it; and those that are fools, let them use their talents.

       MARIA. Yet you will be hang’d for being so long absent; or to be turn’d away, is not that as good as a hanging to you?

       CLOWN. Many a good hanging prevents a bad marriage; and, for turning away, let

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