Sir To.

Out o'tune, Sir, ye lie: art thou any more than a steward? dost 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'th' mouth too.

Sir To.

Thou'rt i'th' right. Go, Sir, rub your chain with crums. A stoop of wine, Maria.

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 rule; she shall know of it, by this hand.

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 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 Duke'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 lye straight in my bed: I know I can do it.

Sir To.

Possess us, possess us, tell us something of him.

Mar.

Marry, Sir, sometimes he is a kind of a 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, 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.

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 gate, the expressure of his eye, forehead, and complexion, he shall find himself most feelingly personated. I can write very like my lady your neice; 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 neice, and that she is in love with him.

Mar.

My purpose is indeed a horse of that colour.

Sir And.

And your horse now would make him an ass.

Mar.

Ass, I doubt not.

Sir And.

O 'twill be admirable.

Mar.

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.

Sir To.

Good night, Penthisilea.

Sir And.

Before me, she's a good wench.

Sir To.

She's a beagle, true bred, and one that adores me; what o'that?

Sir And.

I was ador'd once too.

Sir To.

Let's to bed, Knight: thou hadst need send for more mony.

Sir And.

If I cannot recover your neice, I am a foul way out.

Sir To.

Send for mony, Knight; if thou hast her not i'th'end, call me Cut.

Sir And.

If I do not, never trust me, take it how you will.

Sir To.

Come, come, I'll go burn some sack, 'tis too late to go to bed now: come Knight, come Knight.