Sir And.

No, faith, I'll not stay a jot longer.

Sir To.

Thy reason, dear venom, give thy reason.

Fab.

You must needs yield your reason, sir Andrew.

Sir And.

Marry, I saw your niece do more favours to the count's serving-man, than ever she bestowed upon me; I saw't i'the orchard.

Sir To.

Did she see thee the while, old boy; tell me that?

Sir And.

As plain as I see you now.

Fab.

This was a great argument of love in her towards you.

Sir And.

'Slight! will you make an ass o' me?

Fab.

I will prove it legitimate, sir, upon the oaths of judgment and reason.

Sir To.

And they have been grand jury-men, since before Noah was a sailor.

Fab.

She did shew favour to the youth in your sight, only to exasperate you, to awake your dormouse valour,

to put fire in your heart, and brimstone in your liver: You should then have accosted her; and with some excellent jests, fire-new from the mint, you should have bang'd the youth into dumbness. This was look'd for at your hand, and this was baulk'd: the double gilt of this opportunity you let time wash off, and you are now sail'd into the north of my lady's opinion; where you will hang like an icicle on a Dutchman's beard, unless you do redeem it by some laudable attempt, either of valour, or policy.

Sir And.

And't be any way, it must be with valour; for policy I hate: I had as lief be a Brownist^{1 note}

Sir To.

Why then, build me thy fortunes upon the basis of valour. Challenge me the count's youth to fight with him^{2 note}; hurt him in eleven places; my niece shall take note of it: and assure thyself, there is no

love-broker in the world can more prevail in man's commendation with woman, than report of valour.

Fab.

There is no way but this, sir Andrew.

Sir And.

Will either of you bear me a challenge to him?

Sir To.

Go, write it in a martial hand^{3 note}; be curst and brief: it is no matter how witty, so it be eloquent, and full of invention: ^{4 note}

Sir And.

Where shall I find you?

Sir To.

We'll call thee at the Cubiculo: Go.

Fab.

This is a dear manakin to you, sir Toby.

Sir To.

I have been dear to him, lad; some two thousand strong, or so.

Fab.

We shall have a rare letter from him: but you'll not deliver't.

Sir To.

Never trust me then; and by all means stir on the youth to an answer. I think, oxen and wainropes cannot hale them together. For Andrew, if he were open'd, and you find so much blood in his liver as will clog the foot of a flea, I'll eat the rest of the anatomy.

Fab.

And his opposite, the youth, bears in his visage no great presage of cruelty.

Sir To.

^{5 note}

Mar.

If you desire the spleen, and will laugh yourselves into stitches, follow me: yon' gull Malvolio is turned heathen, a very renegado; for there is no christian, that means to be sav'd by believing rightly, can ever believe such impossible passages of grossness. He's in yellow stockings.

Sir To.

And cross-garter'd?

Mar.

Most villainously; like a pedant that keeps a school i'the church.—I have dogg'd him, like his murtherer: He does obey every point of the letter

that I dropp'd to betray him. He does smile his face into more lines, than is in the new map, with the augmentation of the Indies: you have not seen such a thing as 'tis; I can hardly forbear hurling things at him. I know, my lady will strike him^{6 note}; if she do, he'll smile, and take't for a great favour.

Sir To.

Come, bring us, bring us where he is.