Sir A.

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

Sir T.

Thy reason, dear venom, give thy reason.

Fab.

You must needs yield your reason, sir Andrew.

Sir A.

Marry, I saw your niece do more favours to the count's servingman, than ever she bestow'd upon me; I saw't i'the orchard.

Sir T.

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

Sir A.

As plain as I see you now.

Fab.

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

Sir A.

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

Fab.

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

Sir T.

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 isicle on a Dutchman's beard, unless you do redeem it by some laudable attempt, either of valour, or policy.

Sir A.

An't be any way, it must be with valour; for policy I hate: I had as lief be a Brownist, as a politician.

Sir T.

Why then, build me thy fortunes upon the basis of valour. Challenge me the count's youth to fight with him; 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 A.

Will either of you bear me a challenge to him?

Sir T.

Go, write it in a martial hand, be curst, and brief: it is no matter how witty, so it be eloquent, and full of invention: taunt him with the licence of ink: if thou thou'st him some thrice,14Q0442 it shall not be amiss; and as many lies as will lye in thy sheet of paper, although the sheet were big enough for the bed of Ware in England, set 'em down, go, about it. Let there be

gall enough in thy ink; though thou write with a goose-pen, no matter: About it.

Sir A.

Where shall I find you?

Sir T.

We'll call thee at the cubiculo: Go.

Fab.

This is a dear manakin to you, sir Toby.

Sir T.

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 T.

Never trust me then; and by all means stir on the youth to an answer. I think, oxen and wain-ropes 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 o'the anatomy.

Fab.

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

Sir T.

Look, where the youngest wren of nine ^note comes.

Mar.

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

Sir T.

And cross-garter'd?

Mar.

Most villanously; like a pedant that keeps a school i'the church. I have dog'd him like his murtherer: He does obey every point of the letter that I drop'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; if she do, he'll smile, and take't for a great favour.

Sir T.

Come, bring us, bring us where he is.