#toby belch

[best-character-named-x-poll]

have you done your daily click

[aq2003]

lina, marshall, and tony from duodecimal

[kaz-of-crows]

as much as i hate modern setting shakespeare, i do love the heart hands our toby does when he says “sneck up” which makes it effectively “kill yourself 🫶”

[caedmonofwhitby]

Sir Toby Belch and the Clown (from William Shakespeare's 'Twelfth Night'), 1860

Keeley Halswelle (1832–1891)

Oil on canvas

Glasgow Museums Resource Centre (GMRC)

Sir Toby Belch. Out o' tune, sir: ye lie. Art any more than a steward? Dost thou think, because thou art virtuous, there shall be no more cakes and ale?

Feste. Yes, by Saint Anne, and ginger shall be hot i' the mouth too.

Twelfth Night Act II, Scene 3, line 817 by William Shakespeare

[wordpainterpixie]

Toby: It's not what it looks like!

Maria: If I had even the slightest, foggiest hint of an idea what it looks like you're doing, that might be reassuring.

[therighthandofvengeance]

Londo Mollari really brings a Sir Toby Belch energy that Malv- I mean the first few seasons’ G’Kar doesn’t really appreciate, huh

[a-biochemist-not-a-bird]

twelfth night public works Toby only 

[lesbian-thespian-paladin]

its so objectively silly to be playing the comedic relief character in a Shakespearian comedy and still being like "hmm this Mother Mother song really reminds me of my character"

[thirdity]

In English, words of Latin origin tend to carry overtones of intellectual, moral and aesthetic “classiness" — overtones which are not carried, as a rule, by their Anglo-Saxon equivalents. “Maternal,” for instance, means the same as “motherly,” “intoxicated” as “drunk” — but with what subtly important shades of difference! And when Shakespeare needed a name for a comic character, it was Sir Toby Belch that he chose, not Cavalier Tobias Eructation.

Aldous Huxley, The Perennial Philosophy

[i-am-too-sick]

5 times Quinn was sick for his birthday

2.)

Quinn burped over the toilet bowl, squeezing his eyes shut rather than watching how the vibrations caused the water below him to ripple.

"O-Ohhh, I don't feel good..." he moaned, wrapping his arm around his aching stomach.

He'd been propped up beside the toilet for what felt like hours, waiting for the moment his nausea evolved into something more. He'd left the bathroom only once to retrieve his phone, hoping for any type of distraction while he prepped himself for the inevitable.

A quick glance at the time showed that it was nearing midnight. Merry Christmas, right? This was the worst; he was sick, he was alone, and he surely didn't have any reason to be celebrating.

A sharp cramp rippled through his stomach and he heaved, though he brought up nothing but air and bitter-tasting saliva.

He closed his eyes and rested his cheek on the lip of the seat. The coolness made him suspect that maybe he was running a fever. He considered giving up and just going to bed, after all, he hadn't actually thrown up and it had been forever.

But the thought of getting up right now, or worse, actually going to bed, and then not making it back to the bathroom when he did have to puke, even when all he'd managed at this point was pathetic dry heaves, kept him firmly glued in place.

He hadn't realized he'd started nodding off until he was startled from his impromptu nap by the shrill sound of his phone ringing. The sound echoed off the tiled walls and made his head spin, but somehow he still felt a little lighter when he saw Toby's name flashing on the screen.

He swiped to answer and immediately heard a chorus of singing on the other end.

"Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to Quinn! Happy birthday to—hey, are you there?"

Quinn bit back a groan. As nice as it was to hear Toby's voice, and even to get a birthday wish from him at the stroke of midnight, Quinn just wasn't in the mood for any of it. "Yeah," he croaked. "Thanks for that, babe."

"Q? You sound awful."

This time Quinn allowed himself a groan, reacting as his stomach did a nauseating somersault. He swallowed thickly. "I feel awful."

There was a sympathetic sound over the receiver. "Do you need me to come home?"

Quinn sat bolt upright, caught off guard by the suggestion. "No, no, no! Toby, no, don't you dare." He took a breath in through his nose, doing his best to will the nausea away. Unfortunately, it wasn't working. "It's probably just an occupational hazard. I'm sure it'll run its course in 24 to 48 hours," he added, sounding more like he was trying to convince himself.

"I don't know," Toby replied skeptically. "You sound miserable."

"I'm so nauseous." He muffled a belch into hie fist, hoping Toby couldn't hear over the phone. "I think I'll feel better once I—hic—can get it out of my system."

He screwed his eyes shut, his throat tightening with an impending heave. He tried swallowing, gagging slightly on the thick acidic saliva coating the inside of his mouth.

"I can come home," Toby tried again. "It'll only take a couple hours. My family would understand."

Quinn shook his head. "No," he said, his voice thick with nausea. "I'll be okay..."

"But Quinn, it's your birthday! And Christmas. And you're sick. You shouldn't be alone for any of that."

Quinn was only half-listening. His stomach was truly revolting now, the roiling gurgles actually starting to become painful. He felt another belch bubbling up in his chest, and somehow he knew this was the turning point.

He retched, head reeling. "Gotta g—" He fumbled blindly with his phone, hoping he managed to hang up before Toby heard anything disgusting.

He leaned forward, coughing harshly as acid burned his throat. He whimpered as another cramp seized his midsection, an audible gurgle from his belly finally forcing up a mouthful of sick.

His relief at the beginning of what he hoped would lead to an end was short-lived when he heaved again, a cascade of slurry vomit splashing into the water below.

A deep belch reverberated through his entire frame, bringing up another forceful wave of sick.

His phone rang. It was Toby again, but Quinn declined the call, even knowing Toby would just keep trying.

All this continued for an indefinite amount of time: puking, ringing, puking, declining, gasping for air before puking again. He wondered where all the sick was coming from, and once the retching tapered back into dry heaves, it was true that Quinn did feel marginally better.

His muscles ached something fierce, but that could easily be attributed to crouching forever on the hard bathroom floor. He reached for his phone, seeing that Toby had sent him a text about five minutes ago. He also had three missed calls.

Go to sleep, Quinn texted back. I'm ok. Just threw up.

The replying chime came through almost immediately. Not really the definition of FINE.

Quinn rolled his eyes, managing a weak smile. Bea's going to be mad if you're not awake to watch her open presents. Go to sleep.

He sent the message and immediately started typing another. I'm tired. I'll text in the morning.

There were several seconds where Quinn watched as Toby started typing, and then stopped, typed, and stopped. Finally, his text came through.

Happy birthday, Quinn.

Merry Christmas, Toby.

[socialshakespeare]

Boop a button and then boop the signup

[shakespearenews]

It should be noted that this masterpiece was featured in one of William Shakespeare’s plays, Twelfth Night. Within his play, Shakespeare’s character Toby Belch delivers the line “...and as many lies as will lie in thy sheet of paper, although the sheet were big enough for the bed of Ware in England...,” emphasizing how famous this creation was during the time.

[ryfkah]

A Midwinter Night's Folly; or, Laugh, Lie, Love fandom: Twelfth Night characters: Toby Belch, Andrew Aguecheek, Maria, Feste, Viola relationships: Andrew Aguecheek/Toby Belch, Toby Belch/Maria, sadly not the full threesome. godspeed Toby but you just couldn't land it

Will you a game and a jest?

Toby & crew settle a dispute the old-fashioned way: with a card game, and lots of dick jokes.

[littlequeenies]

Tyler-Jo Richardson, Tom Littler, Corey Montague-Sholay, Clive Francis, Oliver Ford Davies, Patricia Allison, Stefan Bednarczyk, David Suchet, Tom Kanji, Jane Asher, Robert Mountford and Dorothea Myer-Bennett attend the press night after party for "Twelfth Night" at the Orange Tree Theatre on November 29, 2024 in London, England.

(Photo by Matt Keeble/Dave Benett/Getty Images)

William Shakespeare's "Twelfth Night" will be running at the Orange Tree Theatre in Richmond, London, until January 25, 2025.

Book your tickets: https://orangetreetheatre.co.uk/whats-on/twelfth-night-2/

by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE directed by TOM LITTLER

★★★★ “Miraculous lightness…a lesson in comic timing” The Times

★★★★ “Perfectly pitched sad and merry musical mayhem” The Arts Desk

★★★★★ “A truly magical experience… the cast members are outstanding” West End Best Friend

Malvolio runs the Lady Olivia’s house with puritanical zeal. By day, strict order is maintained and repeated advances from Olivia’s many admirers are firmly rebuffed. But after dark, wine flows freely and Olivia’s lady-in-waiting Maria is planning to settle old scores. When a shipwreck washes up two strangers, the scene is set for a comedy of romantic chaos.

Oliver Ford Davies, one of the leading Shakespearean actors of his generation, returns to the OT to play Malvolio, opposite Jane Asher as Maria. Patricia Allison (Sex Education) plays Viola, alongside OT favourites Clive Francis as Toby Belch, Robert Mountford as Andrew Aguecheek, and Dorothea Myer‑Bennett as Olivia.

OT Artistic Director Tom Littler directs a 1940s-set production of Shakespeare’s heartrending and hilarious masterpiece of mistaken identities and secret desires.

[wordpainterpixie]

Olivia: How do Toby and Antonio usually get out of these messes?

Maria: They don't. They just make a bigger mess that cancels the first one out.

Olivia: Oh... Should we stop them?

Fabian, covered in mustard: Too late.