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, and 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.
CLOWN.
‘His eyes do show his days are almost done.’
MALVOLIO.
Is ‘t even so?
SIR TOBY.
‘But I will never die.’
CLOWN.
Sir Toby, there you lie.
MALVOLIO.
This is much credit to you.
SIR TOBY.
‘Shall I bid him go?’
CLOWN.
‘What and if you do?’
SIR TOBY.
‘Shall I bid him go, and spare not?’
CLOWN.
‘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?
CLOWN.
Yes, by Saint Anne, and ginger shall be hot i’ th’ mouth too.
SIR TOBY. Th ‘rt i’ th’ right. Go, sir, rub your chain with crumbs. A stoup of wine, Maria!
MALVOLIO.
Mistress Mary, if you priz’d 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.
[Exit.]
MARIA.
Go shake your ears.
SIR ANDREW. ‘T were 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 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.
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’d 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 affection’d ass, that cons state without book, and utters it by great swarths; the best persuaded of himself, so cramm’d, 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, ‘t will 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. [Exit.]
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 ador’d 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’ th’ 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; ‘t is too late to go to bed now. Come, knight; come, knight.
[Exeunt.]
SCENE IV. The DUKE’S palace
[Enter DUKE, VIOLA, CURIO, and others.]
DUKE.
Give me some music. Now, good morrow, friends.
Now, good Cesario, but that piece of song,
That old and antique song we heard last night;
Methought it did relieve my passion much,
More than light airs and recollected terms
Of these most brisk and giddy-paced times.
Come, but one verse.
CURIO.
He is not here, so please your lordship, that should sing it.
DUKE.
Who was it?
CURIO. Feste, the jester, my lord; a fool that the lady Olivia’s father took much delight in. He is about the house.
DUKE.
Go seek him out, and play the tune the while.
[Exit CURIO. Music plays]
Come hither, boy. If ever thou shalt love,
In