Sir Toby

Approach, Sir Andrew: not to be a-bed after midnight is to be up betimes; and “diluculo surgere,” thou know'st,

Sir Andrew

Nay, by my troth, I know not: but I know, to be up late is to be up late.

Sir Toby

A false conclusion: I hate it as an unfilled can. To be up after midnight and to go to bed then, is early: so that to go to bed after midnight is to go to bed betimes. Does not our life consist of the four elements?

Sir Andrew

Faith, so they say; but I think it rather consists of eating and drinking.

Sir Toby

Th' art a scholar; let us therefore eat and drink. Marian, I say! a stoup of wine!

Sir Andrew

Here comes the fool, i' faith.

Feste

How now, my hearts! did you never see the picture of “we three”?

Sir Toby

Welcome, ass. Now let's have a catch.

Sir Andrew

By my troth, the fool has an excellent breast. I had rather than forty shillings I had such a leg, and so sweet a breath to sing, as the fool has. In sooth, thou wast in very gracious fooling last night, when thou spokest of Pigrogromitus, of the Vapians passing the equinoctial of Queubus: 'twas very good, i' faith. I sent thee sixpence for thy leman: hadst it?

Feste

I did impeticos thy gratillity; for Malvolio's nose is no whipstock: my lady has a white hand, and the Myrmidons are no bottle-ale houses.

Sir Andrew

Excellent! why, this is the best fooling, when all is done. Now, a song.

Sir Toby

Come on; there is sixpence for you: let's have a song.

Sir Andrew

There's a testril of me too: if one knight give a

Feste

Would you have a love-song, or a song of good life?

Sir Toby

A love-song, a love-song.

Sir Andrew

Ay, ay: I care not for good life.

Feste

Sir Andrew

Excellent good, i' faith.

Sir Toby

Good, good.

Feste

Sir Andrew

A mellifluous voice, as I am true knight.

Sir Toby

A contagious breath.

Sir Andrew

Very sweet and contagious, i' faith.

Sir Toby

To hear by the nose, it is dulcet in contagion. But shall we make the welkin dance indeed? shall we rouse the night-owl in a catch that will draw three souls out of one weaver? shall we do that?

Sir Andrew

An you love me, let's do't: I am dog at a catch.

Feste

By'r lady, sir, and some dogs will catch well.

Sir Andrew

Most certain. Let our catch be, “Thou knave.”

Feste

“Hold thy peace, thou knave,” knight? I shall be constrained in't to call thee knave, knight.

Sir Andrew

'Tis not the first time I have constrained one to call me knave. Begin, fool: it begins “Hold thy peace.”

Feste

I shall never begin if I hold my peace.

Sir Andrew

Good, i' faith. Come, begin.

Maria

What a caterwauling do you keep here! If my lady have not called up her steward Malvolio and bid him turn you out of doors, never trust me.

Sir Toby

My lady's a Cataian, we are politicians, Malvolio's a Peg-a-Ramsey, and “Three merry men be we.” Am not I consanguineous? am I not of her blood? Tillyvally. Lady! “There dwelt a man in Babylon, lady, lady!”

Feste

Beshrew me, the knight's in admirable fooling.

Sir Andrew

Ay, he does well enough if he be disposed, and so do I too: he does it with a better grace, but I do it more natural.

Sir Toby

“O' the twelfth day of December,”

Maria

For the love o' God, peace!

Malvolio

My masters, are you mad? or what are you? Have you no wit, manners, nor honesty, but to gabble like tinkers at this time of night? Do ye make an alehouse of my lady's house, that ye squeak out your coziers' catches without any mitigation or remorse of voice? Is there no respect of place, persons, nor time in you?

Sir Toby

We did keep time, sir, in our catches. Sneck up!

Malvolio

Sir Toby, I must be round with you. My lady bade me tell you, that, though she harbours you as her kinsman, she's nothing allied to your disorders. If you can separate yourself and your misdemeanours, you are welcome to the house; if not, an it would please you to take leave of her, she is very willing to bid you farewell.

Sir Toby

“Farewell, dear heart, since I must needs be gone.”

Maria

Nay, good Sir Toby.

Feste

“His eyes do show his days are almost done.”

Malvolio

Is't even so?

Sir Toby

“But I will never die.

Feste

Sir Toby, there you lie.

Malvolio

This is much credit to you.

Sir Toby

“Shall I bid him go?”

Feste

“What an if you do?”

Sir Toby

“Shall I bid him go, and spare not?”

Feste

“O no, no, no, no, you dare not.”

Sir Toby

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.

Sir Toby

Th' art i' the right. Go, sir, rub your chain with crumbs. A stoup of wine, Maria!

Malvolio

Mistress Mary, if you prized my, lady's favour at any thing more than contempt, you would not give means for this uncivil rule: she shall know of it, by this hand.

Maria

Go shake your ears.

Sir Andrew

'Twere as good a deed as to drink when a man's a-hungry, to challenge him the field, and then to break promise with him and make a fool of him.

Sir Toby

Do't, knight: I'll write thee a challenge: or I'll deliver thy indignation to him by word of mouth.

Maria

Sweet Sir Toby, be patient for tonight: since the youth of the count's was to-day with my lady, she is much out of quiet. For Monsieur Malvolio, let me alone with him: if I do not gull him into an ayword, and make him a common recreation, do not think I have wit enough to lie straight in my bed: I know I can do it.

Sir Toby

Possess us, possess us; tell us something of him.

Maria

Marry, sir, sometimes he is a kind of puritan.

Sir Andrew

O, if I thought that I'ld beat him like a dog!

Sir Toby

What, for being a puritan? thy exquisite reason, dear knight?

Sir Andrew

I have no exquisite reason for't, but I have reason good enough.

Maria

The devil a puritan that he is, or any thing constantly, but a time-pleaser; an affectioned ass, that cons state without book and utters it by great swarths: the best persuaded of himself, so crammed, as he thinks, with excellencies, that it is his grounds of faith that all that look on him love him; and on that vice in him will my revenge find notable cause to work.

Sir Toby

What wilt thou do?

Maria

I will drop in his way some obscure epistles of love; wherein, by the colour of his beard, the shape of his leg, the manner of his gait, the expressure of his eye, forehead, and complexion, he shall find himself most feelingly personated. I can write very like my lady your niece: on a forgotten matter we can hardly make distinction of our hands.

Sir Toby

Excellent! I smell a device.

Sir Andrew

I have't in my nose too.

Sir Toby

He shall think, by the letters that thou wilt drop, that they come from my niece, and that she's in love with him.

Maria

My purpose is, indeed, a horse of that colour.

Sir Andrew

And your horse now would make him an ass.

Maria

Ass, I doubt not.

Sir Andrew

O, 'twill be admirable!

Maria

Sport royal, I warrant you: I know my physic will work with him. I will plant you two, and let the fool make a third, where he shall find the letter: observe his construction of it. For this night, to bed, and dream on the event. Farewell.

Sir Toby

Good night, Penthesilea.

Sir Andrew

Before me, she's a good wench.

Sir Toby

She's a beagle, true-bred, and one that adores me: what o' that?

Sir Andrew

I was adored once too.

Sir Toby

Let's to bed, knight. Thou hadst need send for more money.

Sir Andrew

If I cannot recover your niece, I am a foul way out.

Sir Toby

Send for money, knight: if thou hast her not i' the end, call me cut.

Sir Andrew

If I do not, never trust me, take it how you will.

Sir Toby

Come, come, I'll go burn some sack; 'tis too late to go to bed now; come, knight; come, knight.