| ACT II SCENE III | OLIVIA's house. | |
| | Enter SIR TOBY BELCH and SIR ANDREW | |
| SIR TOBY BELCH | Approach, Sir Andrew: not to be abed after | |
| | midnight is to be up betimes; and 'diluculo | |
| | surgere,' thou know'st,-- | |
| SIR ANDREW | Nay, my troth, I know not: but I know, to be up | 5 |
| | late is to be up late. | |
| SIR TOBY BELCH | 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 | 10 |
| | four elements? | |
| SIR ANDREW | Faith, so they say; but I think it rather consists | |
| | of eating and drinking. | |
| SIR TOBY BELCH | Thou'rt a scholar; let us therefore eat and drink. | |
| | Marian, I say! a stoup of wine! | 15 |
| | Enter Clown | |
| SIR ANDREW | Here comes the fool, i' faith. | |
| Clown | How now, my hearts! did you never see the picture | |
| | of 'we three'? | |
| SIR TOBY BELCH | Welcome, ass. Now let's have a catch. | |
| SIR ANDREW | By my troth, the fool has an excellent breast. I | 20 |
| | 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 | 25 |
| | very good, i' faith. I sent thee sixpence for thy | |
| | leman: hadst it? | |
| Clown | 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. | 30 |
| SIR ANDREW | Excellent! why, this is the best fooling, when all | |
| | is done. Now, a song. | |
| SIR TOBY BELCH | 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-- | |
| Clown | Would you have a love-song, or a song of good life? | 35 |
| SIR TOBY BELCH | A love-song, a love-song. | |
| SIR ANDREW | Ay, ay: I care not for good life. | |
| Clown | Sings | |
| | O mistress mine, where are you roaming? | |
| | O, stay and hear; your true love's coming, | |
| | That can sing both high and low: | 40 |
| | Trip no further, pretty sweeting; | |
| | Journeys end in lovers meeting, | |
| | Every wise man's son doth know. | |
| SIR ANDREW | Excellent good, i' faith. | |
| SIR TOBY BELCH | Good, good. | 45 |
| Clown | Sings | |
| | What is love? 'tis not hereafter; | |
| | Present mirth hath present laughter; | |
| | What's to come is still unsure: | |
| | In delay there lies no plenty; | |
| | Then come kiss me, sweet and twenty, | 50 |
| | Youth's a stuff will not endure. | |
| SIR ANDREW | A mellifluous voice, as I am true knight. | |
| SIR TOBY BELCH | A contagious breath. | |
| SIR ANDREW | Very sweet and contagious, i' faith. | |
| SIR TOBY BELCH | To hear by the nose, it is dulcet in contagion. | 55 |
| | 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. | |
| Clown | By'r lady, sir, and some dogs will catch well. | 60 |
| SIR ANDREW | Most certain. Let our catch be, 'Thou knave.' | |
| Clown | '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.' | 65 |
| Clown | I shall never begin if I hold my peace. | |
| SIR ANDREW | Good, i' faith. Come, begin. | |
| | Catch sung | |
| | Enter MARIA | |
| 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. | 70 |
| SIR TOBY BELCH | 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! | |
| | Sings | |
| | 'There dwelt a man in Babylon, lady, lady!' | 75 |
| Clown | 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 BELCH | Sings | |
| MARIA | For the love o' God, peace! | 80 |
| | Enter MALVOLIO | |
| MALVOLIO | My masters, are you mad? or what are you? Have ye | |
| | 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 | 85 |
| | of voice? Is there no respect of place, persons, nor | |
| | time in you? | |
| SIR TOBY BELCH | 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 | 90 |
| | kinsman, she's nothing allied to your disorders. If | |
| | you can separate yourself and your misdemeanors, 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. | 95 |
| SIR TOBY BELCH | 'Farewell, dear heart, since I must needs be gone.' | |
| MARIA | Nay, good Sir Toby. | |
| Clown | 'His eyes do show his days are almost done.' | |
| MALVOLIO | Is't even so? | |
| SIR TOBY BELCH | 'But I will never die.' | 100 |
| Clown | Sir Toby, there you lie. | |
| MALVOLIO | This is much credit to you. | |
| SIR TOBY BELCH | 'Shall I bid him go?' | |
| Clown | 'What an if you do?' | |
| SIR TOBY BELCH | 'Shall I bid him go, and spare not?' | 105 |
| Clown | 'O no, no, no, no, you dare not.' | |
| 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? | |
| Clown | Yes, by Saint Anne, and ginger shall be hot i' the | 110 |
| | mouth too. | |
| SIR TOBY BELCH | Thou'rt 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 | 115 |
| | for this uncivil rule: she shall know of it, by this hand. | |
| | Exit | |
| 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. | 120 |
| SIR TOBY BELCH | 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 today with thy lady, she is | |
| | much out of quiet. For Monsieur Malvolio, let me | 125 |
| | alone with him: if I do not gull him into a | |
| | nayword, 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 BELCH | Possess us, possess us; tell us something of him. | 130 |
| 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 BELCH | What, for being a puritan? thy exquisite reason, | |
| | dear knight? | |
| SIR ANDREW | I have no exquisite reason for't, but I have reason | 135 |
| | 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 | 140 |
| | 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 BELCH | What wilt thou do? | 145 |
| 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 | 150 |
| | like my lady your niece: on a forgotten matter we | |
| | can hardly make distinction of our hands. | |
| SIR TOBY BELCH | Excellent! I smell a device. | |
| SIR ANDREW | I have't in my nose too. | |
| SIR TOBY BELCH | He shall think, by the letters that thou wilt drop, | 155 |
| | 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. | 160 |
| 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 | 165 |
| | bed, and dream on the event. Farewell. | |
| | Exit | |
| SIR TOBY BELCH | Good night, Penthesilea. | |
| SIR ANDREW | Before me, she's a good wench. | |
| SIR TOBY BELCH | She's a beagle, true-bred, and one that adores me: | |
| | what o' that? | 170 |
| SIR ANDREW | I was adored once too. | |
| SIR TOBY BELCH | 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 BELCH | Send for money, knight: if thou hast her not i' | 175 |
| | the end, call me cut. | |
| SIR ANDREW | If I do not, never trust me, take it how you will. | |
| SIR TOBY BELCH | Come, come, I'll go burn some sack; 'tis too late | |
| | to go to bed now: come, knight; come, knight. | |
| | Exeunt | |
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