_Mar._ He hath, indeed, all, most 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 To._ By this band, they are scoundrels, and substractors, that say so 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 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--See, here comes Sir Andrew Ague-face. [SIR ANDREW AGUE-CHEEK, _without_. _Sir And._ Sir Toby Belch! how now, Sir Toby Belch? _Sir To._ Sweet Sir Andrew! _Enter_ SIR ANDREW. _Sir And._ Bless you, fair shrew. _Mar._ And you too, sir. _Sir To._ Accost, Sir Andrew, accost. _Sir And._ What's that? _Sir To._ My niece's chamber-maid. _Sir And._ Good Mistress Accost, I desire better acquaintance. _Mar._ My name is Mary, sir. _Sir And._ Good Mistress Mary Accost,---- _Sir To._ You mistake, knight; accost, is, front her, board her, woo her, assail her. _Sir And._ By my troth, I would not undertake her in this company. Is that the meaning of accost? _Mar._ Fare you well, gentlemen. _Sir To._ An thou let part so, Sir Andrew, 'would thou might'st never draw sword again. _Sir And._ An you part so, mistress, I would I might never draw sword 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 shall have; and here's my hand. _Mar._ [_Takes his hand._] Now, sir, thought is free: I pray you, bring your hand to the buttery-bar, and let it drink. _Sir And._ Wherefore, sweet-heart? what's your metaphor? _Mar._ It's dry, sir. _Sir And._ Why, I think so; I am not such an ass, but I can keep my hand dry. But what's your jest? _Mar._ A dry jest, sir. _Sir And._ Are you full of them? _Mar._ Ay, sir; I have them at my fingers' ends: marry, [_Lets go his hand._] now I let go your hand, I am barren. [_Exit_ MARIA. _Sir To._ O knight, thou lack'st a cup of canary: When did I see thee so put down? _Sir And._ 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 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 forswear it. I'll ride home to-morrow, Sir Toby. _Sir To._ _Pourquoy_, my dear knight?