Shakespeare's First Folio
Chapter 222 : To. O knight, thou lack'st a cup of Canarie: when did I see thee so put downe?An.

To. O knight, thou lack'st a cup of Canarie: when did I see thee so put downe?

An. Neuer in your life I thinke, vnlesse you see Canarie put me downe: mee thinkes sometimes I haue no more wit then a Christian, or an ordinary man ha's: but I am a great eater of beefe, and I beleeue that does harme to my wit

To. No question

An. And I thought that, I'de forsweare it. Ile ride home to morrow sir Toby

To. Pur-quoy my deere knight?

An. What is purquoy? Do, or not do? I would I had bestowed that time in the tongues, that I haue in fencing dancing, and beare-bayting: O had I but followed the Arts

To. Then hadst thou had an excellent head of haire

An. Why, would that haue mended my haire?

To. Past question, for thou seest it will not coole my nature An. But it becoms me wel enough, dost not?

To. Excellent, it hangs like flax on a distaffe: & I hope to see a huswife take thee between her legs, & spin it off

An. Faith Ile home to morrow sir Toby, your niece wil not be seene, or if she be it's four to one, she'l none of me: the Count himselfe here hard by, wooes her

To. Shee'l none o'th Count, she'l not match aboue hir degree, neither in estate, yeares, nor wit: I haue heard her swear't. Tut there's life in't man

And. Ile stay a moneth longer. I am a fellow o'th strangest minde i'th world: I delight in Maskes and Reuels sometimes altogether

To. Art thou good at these kicke-chawses Knight?

And. As any man in Illyria, whatsoeuer he be, vnder the degree of my betters, & yet I will not compare with an old man

To. What is thy excellence in a galliard, knight?

And. Faith, I can cut a caper

To. And I can cut the Mutton too't

And. And I thinke I haue the backe-tricke, simply as strong as any man in Illyria

To. Wherefore are these things hid? Wherefore haue these gifts a Curtaine before 'em? Are they like to take dust, like mistris Mals picture? Why dost thou not goe to Church in a Galliard, and come home in a Carranto?

My verie walke should be a Iigge: I would not so much as make water but in a Sinke-a-pace: What dooest thou meane? Is it a world to hide vertues in? I did thinke by the excellent const.i.tution of thy legge, it was form'd vnder the starre of a Galliard

And. I, 'tis strong, and it does indifferent well in a dam'd colour'd stocke. Shall we sit about some Reuels?

To. What shall we do else: were we not borne vnder Taurus?

And. Taurus? That sides and heart

To. No sir, it is leggs and thighes: let me see thee caper.

Ha, higher: ha, ha, excellent.

Exeunt.

Scena Quarta.

Enter Valentine, and Viola in mans attire.

Val. If the Duke continue these fauours towards you Cesario, you are like to be much aduanc'd, he hath known you but three dayes, and already you are no stranger

Vio. You either feare his humour, or my negligence, that you call in question the continuance of his loue. Is he inconstant sir, in his fauours

Val. No beleeue me.

Enter Duke, Curio, and Attendants.

Vio. I thanke you: heere comes the Count

Duke. Who saw Cesario hoa?

Vio. On your attendance my Lord heere

Du. Stand you a-while aloofe. Cesario, Thou knowst no lesse, but all: I haue vnclasp'd To thee the booke euen of my secret soule.

Therefore good youth, addresse thy gate vnto her, Be not deni'de accesse, stand at her doores, And tell them, there thy fixed foot shall grow Till thou haue audience

Vio. Sure my n.o.ble Lord, If she be so abandon'd to her sorrow As it is spoke, she neuer will admit me

Du. Be clamorous, and leape all ciuill bounds, Rather then make vnprofited returne, Vio. Say I do speake with her (my Lord) what then?

Du. O then, vnfold the pa.s.sion of my loue, Surprize her with discourse of my deere faith; It shall become thee well to act my woes: She will attend it better in thy youth, Then in a Nuntio's of more graue aspect

Vio. I thinke not so, my Lord

Du. Deere Lad, beleeue it; For they shall yet belye thy happy yeeres, That say thou art a man: Dianas lip Is not more smooth, and rubious: thy small pipe Is as the maidens organ, shrill, and sound, And all is semblatiue a womans part.

I know thy constellation is right apt For this affayre: some foure or fiue attend him, All if you will: for I my selfe am best When least in companie: prosper well in this, And thou shalt liue as freely as thy Lord, To call his fortunes thine

Vio. Ile do my best To woe your Lady: yet a barrefull strife, Who ere I woe, my selfe would be his wife.

Exeunt.

Scena Quinta.

Enter Maria, and Clowne.

Ma. Nay, either tell me where thou hast bin, or I will not open my lippes so wide as a brissle may enter, in way of thy excuse: my Lady will hang thee for thy absence

Clo. Let her hang me: hee that is well hang'de in this world, needs to feare no colours

Ma. Make that good

Clo. He shall see none to feare

Ma. A good lenton answer: I can tell thee where y saying was borne, of I feare no colours

Clo. Where good mistris Mary?

Ma. In the warrs, & that may you be bolde to say in your foolerie

Clo. Well, G.o.d giue them wisedome that haue it: & those that are fooles, let them vse their talents

Ma. 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?

Clo. Many a good hanging, preuents a bad marriage: and for turning away, let summer beare it out