feat_summary_path: finished_summaries/shmoop/Twelfth Night, or What You Will/section_2_part_0.txt
feat_book_id: Twelfth Night, or What You Will.act 1.scene 3
feat_summary_id: act 1, scene 3
feat_summary: {"name": "Act 1, Scene 3", "url": "https://web.archive.org/web/20210415161814/https://www.shmoop.com/study-guides/literature/twelfth-night/summary/act-1-scene-3", "summary": "Meanwhile, back at Olivia's pad, Sir Toby Belch complains that his niece, Olivia, needs to snap out it - she's mourned for her dead brother long enough and now it's time to party. Maria lays into Toby and warns him to come home at a more reasonable hour, because Olivia's sick and tired of him staying out late. Toby says that's just too bad - he's gotta fight for his right to party. Having given Toby Belch a little piece of her mind, Maria starts in on Toby's guest and drinking buddy, Sir Andrew Aguecheek. When Toby brags that Aguecheek's super rich, Maria scoffs that he'll probably burn through his cash within the year because he's an idiot who does nothing but drink. Toby defends his good buddy and says Aguecheek speaks three or four languages and plays a musical instrument, too. Maria's not impressed and points out that Aguecheek's a drunken fool and likes to pick fights that he can't win. He's a coward and will probably get himself killed, she insists. Toby's feeling blissfully belligerent and explains why Aguecheek's always drunk - because he's always drinking toasts to Olivia's good health, of course. Toby, who is clearly still wasted from partying all night, then brags that he'll beat the heck out of any man that refuses to drink a toast to Olivia. Just then, Sir Andrew Aguecheek shows up. He says, \"What's up?\" to his pal Toby and introduces himself to Maria, who proceeds to rag on him. Toby gives his boy a hard time for letting a woman clown him like that. The two then proceed to talk smack and fall into what seems to be a familiar pattern of drunken banter. Sir Andrew Aguecheek says he's had a swell time partying with Toby, but it's time for him to get home, especially since it seems Olivia's not interested in marrying him. Nonsense, Toby says, there's no way Olivia will get with Duke Orsino, so Aguecheek should hang in there a bit longer. Aguecheek says he might as well stick around for another month or so. Why not? There's always a great party to go to. The two talk a little more trash and then run off.", "analysis": ""}
text: SCENE III.
  
  A Room in OLIVIA'S House.
  
  [Enter SIR TOBY BELCH and MARIA.]
  
  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 Ague-cheek?
  
  MARIA.
  Ay, he.
  
  SIR TOBY.
  He's as tall a man as any's in Illyria.
  
  MARIA.
  What's that to the 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.
  Fye 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.
  
  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 coystril that will not drink to my niece
  till his brains turn o' the toe like a parish-top. What, wench!
  Castiliano-vulgo! for here comes Sir Andrew Ague-face.
  
  [Enter SIR ANDREW AGUE-CHEEK.]
  
  AGUE-CHEEK.
  Sir Toby Belch! how now, Sir Toby Belch!
  
  SIR TOBY.
  Sweet Sir Andrew?
  
  SIR ANDREW.
  Bless you, fair shrew.
  
  MARIA.
  And you too, sir.
  
  SIR TOBY.
  Accost, Sir Andrew, accost.
  
  SIR ANDREW.
  What's that?
  
  SIR TOBY.
  My niece's chamber-maid.
  
  SIR ANDREW.
  Good Mistress Accost, I desire better acquaintance.
  
  MARIA.
  My name is Mary, sir.
  
  SIR ANDREW.
  Good Mistress Mary Accost,--
  
  SIR TOBY.
  You mistake, knight: accost is, front her, board her,
  woo her, assail her.
  
  SIR ANDREW.
  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.
  
  SIR ANDREW.
  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 the hand.
  
  SIR ANDREW.
  Marry, but you shall have; and here's my hand.
  
  MARIA.
  Now, sir, thought is free. I pray you, bring your hand to
  the buttery-bar and let it drink.
  
  SIR ANDREW.
  Wherefore, sweetheart? what's your metaphor?
  
  MARIA.
  It's dry, sir.
  
  SIR ANDREW.
  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.
  
  SIR ANDREW.
  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?
  
  SIR ANDREW.
  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.
  
  SIR ANDREW.
  An I thought that, I'd forswear it. I'll ride home
  to-morrow, Sir Toby.
  
  SIR TOBY.
  Pourquoy, my dear knight?
  
  SIR ANDREW.
  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. Oh, had I but followed 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; and I hope to
  see a houswife take thee between her legs and spin it off.
  
  SIR ANDREW.
  Faith, I'll home to-morrow, 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 woos her.
  
  SIR TOBY.
  She'll none o' the 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' the strangest
  mind i' the world; I delight in masques and revels sometimes
  altogether.
  
  SIR TOBY.
  Art thou good at these kick-shaws, 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 them? 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; I would not so much as make water but in a sink-a-pace. What
  dost thou mean? is it a world to hide virtues in? I did think, by
  the excellent constitution of thy leg, it was formed under the
  star of a galliard.
  
  SIR ANDREW.
  Ay, 'tis 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 thee caper: ha,
  higher: ha, ha!--excellent!
  
  [Exeunt.]
  
  
  
  
  
feat_summary_name: Act 1, Scene 3
target: Meanwhile, back at Olivia's pad, Sir Toby Belch complains that his niece, Olivia, needs to snap out it - she's mourned for her dead brother long enough and now it's time to party. Maria lays into Toby and warns him to come home at a more reasonable hour, because Olivia's sick and tired of him staying out late. Toby says that's just too bad - he's gotta fight for his right to party. Having given Toby Belch a little piece of her mind, Maria starts in on Toby's guest and drinking buddy, Sir Andrew Aguecheek. When Toby brags that Aguecheek's super rich, Maria scoffs that he'll probably burn through his cash within the year because he's an idiot who does nothing but drink. Toby defends his good buddy and says Aguecheek speaks three or four languages and plays a musical instrument, too. Maria's not impressed and points out that Aguecheek's a drunken fool and likes to pick fights that he can't win. He's a coward and will probably get himself killed, she insists. Toby's feeling blissfully belligerent and explains why Aguecheek's always drunk - because he's always drinking toasts to Olivia's good health, of course. Toby, who is clearly still wasted from partying all night, then brags that he'll beat the heck out of any man that refuses to drink a toast to Olivia. Just then, Sir Andrew Aguecheek shows up. He says, "What's up?" to his pal Toby and introduces himself to Maria, who proceeds to rag on him. Toby gives his boy a hard time for letting a woman clown him like that. The two then proceed to talk smack and fall into what seems to be a familiar pattern of drunken banter. Sir Andrew Aguecheek says he's had a swell time partying with Toby, but it's time for him to get home, especially since it seems Olivia's not interested in marrying him. Nonsense, Toby says, there's no way Olivia will get with Duke Orsino, so Aguecheek should hang in there a bit longer. Aguecheek says he might as well stick around for another month or so. Why not? There's always a great party to go to. The two talk a little more trash and then run off.