SCENE III.Olivia's house.Enter Sir Toby, and Sir Andrew.
Sir To.
Approach, sir Andrew: not to be a-bed
after midnight, is to be up betimes; and dilucuhsurgere, thou know'st,—
-- 188 --
Sir And.
Nay, by my troth, I know not: but I
know, to be up late, is to be up late.
Sir To.
A false conclusion; I hate it as an unfill'd
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 And.
'Faith, so they say; but, 8noteI think, it rather
consists of eating and drinking.
Sir To.
Thou art a scholar; let us therefore eat and
drink.—Marian, I say!—a stoop9note
of wine!
Enter Clown.
Sir And.
Here comes the fool, i'faith.
Clo.
How now, my hearts? Did you never see the
picture of we three?
breast. 9Q0429 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 spok'st of Pigrogromitus, of the Vapians
passing the equinoctial of Queubus; 'twas very good,
i'faith. I sent thee six-pence for thy leman; Had'st
it2note
I did impeticoat thy gratuity 9Q0430; for Malvolio's
nose is no whip-stock: My lady has a white hand,
and he Myrmidons are no bottle-ale houses.
Sir And.
Excellent! Why, this is the best fooling,
when all is done. Now, a song.
Sir To.
Come on; there is six-pence for you: let's
have a song.
Sir And.
There's a testril of me too: if one knight
give a—
Clo.
Would you have a love-song, or a song of
good life4note?
-- 191 --
Sir To.
A love-song, a love-song.
Sir And.
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:
Trip no further, pretty sweeting;
Journeys end in lovers' meeting,
Every wise man's son doth know.
Sir And.
Excellent good, i'faith!
Sir To.
Good, good.
Clo.
What is love? 'tis not hereafter;
Present mirth hath present laughter;
What's to come, is still unsure:
5note
What a catterwauling do you keep here? If
my lady have not call'd up her steward, Malvolio,
and bid him turn you out of doors, never trust me.
-- 194 --
Sir To.
My lady's a Cataian1note
, we are politicians;
Malvolio's a 2note
[unresolved image link]
Peg-a-Ramsey, and Three merry menbe we.
-- 195 --
Am not I consanguineous? am I not of her blood?
Tilly valley3note
, lady! There dwelt a man in Babylon4note
, lady,
lady!
[Singing.
-- 196 --
Clo.
Beshrew me, the knight's in admirable fooling.
Sir And.
Ay, he does well enough, if he be dispos'd,
and so do I too; he does it with a better
grace, but I do it more natural.
Sir To.
O, the twelfth day of December,—
[Singing.
Mar.
For the love o'God, peace.
Enter Malvolio.
Mal.
My masters, are you mad? or what are you?
Have you no wit, manners, nor honesty, but to gabble
-- 197 --
like tinkers at this time of night? Do ye make
an ale-house of my lady's house, that ye squeak out
your 5note
coziers' catches without any mitigation or remorse
of voice? Is there no respect of place, persons,
nor time in you?
Sir To.
We did keep time, sir, in our catches.
Sneck up6note
!
Mal.
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 ally'd to your disorders.
If you can separate yourself and your misdemeanors,
-- 198 --
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 farewel.
Sir To.
7noteFarewel, dear heart, since I must needs be
gone.
Mal.
Nay, good sir Toby.
Clo.
His eyes do shew his days are almost done.
Mal.
Is't even so?
Sir To.
But I will never die.
Clo.
Sir Toby, there you lie.
Mal.
This is much credit to you.
Sir To.
Shall I bid him go?
[Singing.Clo.
What an if you do?
Sir To.
Shall I bid him go, and spare not?
Clo.
O no, no, no, no, you dare not.
Sir To.
Out o'tune, sir, ye lie.—Art any more
than a steward? 8noteDost thou think, because thou art
virtuous, there shall be no more cakes and ale?
Clo.
Yes, by Saint Anne; and ginger shall be hot
i'the mouth too.
Sir To.
Thou'rt i'the right.—Go, sir, rub your
chain with crums9note
:—A stoop of wine, Maria!—
-- 199 --
Mal.
Mistress Mary, if you priz'd my lady's favour
at any thing more than contempt, you would not
give means for this uncivil rule1note
; she shall know of
it, by this hand.
[Exit.
Mar.
Go shake your ears.
Sir And.
'Twere as good a deed, as to drink when a
man's a hungry, to challenge him to the field; and
-- 200 --
then to break promise with him, and make a fool of
him.
Sir To.
Do't, knight; I'll write thee a challenge;
or I'll deliver thy indignation to him by word of
mouth.
Mar.
Sweet sir Toby, be patient for to night;
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 nayword2note, 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 To.
Possess us3note, possess us; tell us something
of him.
Mar.
Marry, sir, sometimes he is a kind of puritan.
Sir And.
O, if I thought that, I'd beat him like a
dog.
Sir To.
What, for being a puritan? thy exquisite
reason, dear knight?
Sir And.
I have no exquisite reason for't, but I
have reason good enough.
Mar.
The devil a puritan that he is, or any thing
constantly but a time-pleaser; 4note
an affection'd ass,
that cons state without book, and utters it by great
swarths: the best persuaded of himself, so cram'd, as
he thinks, with excellencies, that it is his ground of
faith, that all, that look on him, love him; and on
that vice in him will my revenge find notable cause
to work.
-- 201 --
Sir To.
What wilt thou do?
Mar.
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 To.
Excellent! I smell a device.
Sir And.
I have't in my nose too.
Sir To.
He shall think, by the letters that thou wilt
drop, that they come from my niece, and that she
is in love with him.
Sport royal, I warrant you: I know, my
physick 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. Farewel.