Conceal me what I am, and be my aid
For fuch difguife as, haply, fhall become
The form of my intent. I'll ferve this Duke;
Thou fhalt prefent me as an eunuch to him,
'It may be worth thy pains; for I can fing,
And speak to him in many forts of mufic,
That will allow me very worth his service.
What elfe may hap, to time I will commit;
Only fhape thou thy filence to my wit.

Cap. Be you his eunuch, and your mute I'll be: When my tongue blabs, then let mine eyes not fee. Vio. I thank thee; lead me on.. [Exeunt.

SCENE, an Apartment in Olivia's House.

Enter Sir TOBY, and MARIA.

Sir To. What a plague means my niece, to take the death of her brother thus? I am fure, care's an enemy to life.

Mar. By my troth, Sir Toby, you must come in earlier a-nights; your niece, 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 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 fo be thefe boots too; an they be not, let them hang themfelves in their own straps

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

Sir To. Who, Sir Andrew Aguecheek?

Mar. Ay, he.

Sir To. He's as tall a man as any's in Illyria,

Mar. What's that to the purpofe?

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. Fy, that you'll fay fo! he plays o' th' viol-de-gambo, and fpeaks three or four languages word for word without book, and hath all the good gifts of Naturė.

Mar. He hath, indeed,almoft natural; for befides that he's a fool, he's a great quarreler; and but that he hath the gift of a coward to allay the gut he hath in quarreling, 'tis thought among the prudent, he would quickly have the gift of a grave.

Sir To. By this hand they are fcoundrels and fubtractors that fay fo 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's a paflage in my throat, and drink in Illyria. He's a coward, and a coytril, that will not drink to my niece 'till his brains turn o' th' toe like a parifh top. What, wench? Caftiliano vulgo, for here comes Sir Andrew Aguecheek.

Enter Sir ANDREW.

Sir And. Sir Toby Belch! how now, Sir Toby Belch?

Sir To. Sweet Sir Andrew!

Sir And. Blefs you, fair fhrew.

Mar. And you too, Sir.

Sir To. Accoit, Sir Andrew, accost.-----

Sir And. What's that?

Sir To. My niece's chambermaid.

Sir And. Good Mrs Accoft, I defire better ac

quaintance.

Mar. My name is Mary, Sir.

Sir And. Good Mrs Mary Accoft------

Sir To. You mistake, knight: accoft, is front her, board her, woo her, affail 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 mighteft never draw fword again.

Sir And. An you part fo, miftrefs, I would I might never draw fword 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 fhall 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, fweet-heart? what's your metaphor?

Mar. A dry jeft, Sir.

am not fuch an

But what's your

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 lackeft a cup of canary: when did I fee thee fo put down?

Sir And. Never in your life, I think, unless you fee canary put me down. Methinks fometimes I have no more wit than a Christian, or an ordinary 2. VOL. V. B

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 forfwear 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. (2)O, had I but followed the arts!

Sir To. Then hadft thou had an excellent head of hair.

Sir And. Why, would that have mended my hair?

(2) Sir And.

-O, had I but followed the arts!

Sir To. Then badst thou had an excellent head of hair.
Sir And. Why, would that have mended my hair?

Sir To. Paft question; for thou seeft it will not cool my nature,] Prodigious fagacity! and yet thus it has paffed down through all the printed copies. We cannot enough admire that happy indolence of Mr Pope, which can acquicfce in tranfmitting to us fuch stuff for genuine fense and argument. The dialogue is of a very light ftrain, 'tis 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 cooling, Sir Toby's nature. But my emendation clears up all this abfurdity; and the context is an unexceptionable confirmation:

Sir And. But it becomes me well enough, does't not? Sir To. Excellent! it hangs like flax on a distaff, &c. I cannot pafs over the remarkable conundrum betwixt Sir Andrew wishing he had followed the arts, and Sir Toby's application of this to the ufing art in improving his hair: because I would obferve, what variety and what a contrast of characters the Poet has preferved in this pair of ridicu lous knights. Sir Toby has moderate natural parts, and a fmattering of education; which makes him always to be running his wit, and gives him a predominance over the other. Sir Andrew is a blockhead by nature, and unim proved by any acquirements from art; and fo is made the very anvil to imposition and ridicule.

Sir To. Paft queftion; for, thou feeft, it will not curl by nature.

Sir And. But it becomes me well enough, does't not?

Sir To. Excellent! it hangs like flax on a distaff: and I hope to fee a houfe-wife take thee between her legs, and fpin it off.

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

Sir To. She'll none o'th' Duke, she'll not match above her degree, neither in eftate, years nor wit; I have heard her fwear it. Tut, there's life in't, man.

Sir And. I'll stay a month longer. I am a fellow o'th' ftrangeit mind i'th' world: I delight in masks and revels fometimes altogether.

Sir To. Art thou good at thefe kick-thaws, Knight! Sir And. 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 a caper.

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

Sir And. And, I think, I have the back-trick, fimply as ftrong 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 duft, like Mistress Mall's picture: why dost thou not go to church in a galliard, and come home in a coranto? my very walk thould be a jig ! I would not fo much as make water, but in a fink-apace: what dost thou mean! is it a world to hide virtues in? I did think, by the excellent constitution