Artboard Created with Sketch. Close Search Dialog
! Error Created with Sketch.

Twelfth Night

William Shakespeare

  Act 1 Scene 3

page Act 1 Scene 3 Page 2

Original Text

Modern Text

MARIA

What’s that to the purpose?

MARIA

What does his height have to do with anything?

SIR TOBY BELCH

20Why, he has three thousand ducats a year.

SIR TOBY BELCH

Why, he has an income of 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.

MARIA

I bet he’ll spend his whole inheritance in a year. He’s a fool and a spendthrift.

SIR TOBY BELCH

Fie, that you’ll say so! He plays o' the viol-de-gamboys, and speaks three or four languages word for word without book, and hath all the good gifts of nature.

SIR TOBY BELCH

You shouldn’t talk about him like that! He plays the violin and speaks three or four languages word for word without a dictionary. He has all of nature’s best gifts.

MARIA

He hath indeed, almost natural, for besides that he’s a fool, he’s a great quarreler, and but that he hath the gift of a coward to allay the gust he hath in quarreling, ’tis thought among the prudent he would quickly have the gift of a grave.

MARIA

Right—he’s a natural-born idiot. Besides being a fool, he’s argumentative. If he didn’t have the coward’s gift for backing down from a fight, they say he’d be dead by now.

SIR TOBY BELCH

30By this hand, they are scoundrels and substractors that say so of him. Who are they?

SIR TOBY BELCH

Anyone who says that is a lying piece of garbage. Who said that?

MARIA

They that add, moreover, he’s drunk nightly in your company.

MARIA

The same people who say he gets drunk with you every night.

SIR TOBY BELCH

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 coistrel that will not drink to my niece till his brains turn o' th' toe like a parish top. What, wench! Castiliano vulgo, for here comes Sir Andrew Agueface.

SIR TOBY BELCH

We only drink toasts to my niece. I’ll drink to her as long as there’s a hole in my throat and booze in Illyria. Anyone who refuses to drink to my niece until his brain spins around like a merry-go-round is scum. But speak of the devil, here comes Sir Andrew Agueface.
Enter SIR ANDREW
SIR ANDREW enters.

SIR ANDREW

Sir Toby Belch! How now, Sir Toby Belch!

SIR ANDREW

Sir Toby Belch! How are you, Sir Toby Belch?

SIR TOBY BELCH

40Sweet Sir Andrew!

SIR TOBY BELCH

Sweet Sir Andrew!