Act 2, Scene 3: OLIVIA's house

SCENE III. OLIVIA's house.

    Enter SIR TOBY BELCH and SIR ANDREW

SIR TOBY BELCH

    Approach, Sir Andrew: not to be abed after
    midnight is to be up betimes; and 'diluculo
    surgere,' thou know'st,--

SIR ANDREW

    Nay, my troth, I know not: but I know, to be up
    late is to be up late.

SIR TOBY BELCH

    A false conclusion: I hate it as an unfilled 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 ANDREW

    Faith, so they say; but I think it rather consists
    of eating and drinking.

SIR TOBY BELCH

    Thou'rt a scholar; let us therefore eat and drink.
    Marian, I say! a stoup of wine!

    Enter Clown

SIR ANDREW

    Here comes the fool, i' faith.

Clown

    How now, my hearts! did you never see the picture
    of 'we three'?

SIR TOBY BELCH

    Welcome, ass. Now let's have a catch.

SIR ANDREW

    By my troth, the fool has an excellent breast. 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 spokest of Pigrogromitus, of the
    Vapians passing the equinoctial of Queubus: 'twas
    very good, i' faith. I sent thee sixpence for thy
    leman: hadst it?

Clown

    I did impeticos thy gratillity; for Malvolio's nose
    is no whipstock: my lady has a white hand, and the
    Myrmidons are no bottle-ale houses.

SIR ANDREW

    Excellent! why, this is the best fooling, when all
    is done. Now, a song.

SIR TOBY BELCH

    Come on; there is sixpence for you: let's have a song.

SIR ANDREW

    There's a testril of me too: if one knight give a--

Clown

    Would you have a love-song, or a song of good life?

SIR TOBY BELCH

    A love-song, a love-song.

SIR ANDREW

    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 ANDREW

    Excellent good, i' faith.

SIR TOBY BELCH

    Good, good.

Clown

    [Sings]
    What is love? 'tis not hereafter;
    Present mirth hath present laughter;
    What's to come is still unsure:
    In delay there lies no plenty;
    Then come kiss me, sweet and twenty,
    Youth's a stuff will not endure.

SIR ANDREW

    A mellifluous voice, as I am true knight.

SIR TOBY BELCH

    A contagious breath.

SIR ANDREW

    Very sweet and contagious, i' faith.

SIR TOBY BELCH

    To hear by the nose, it is dulcet in contagion.
    But shall we make the welkin dance indeed? shall we
    rouse the night-owl in a catch that will draw three
    souls out of one weaver? shall we do that?

SIR ANDREW

    An you love me, let's do't: I am dog at a catch.

Clown

    By'r lady, sir, and some dogs will catch well.

SIR ANDREW

    Most certain. Let our catch be, 'Thou knave.'

Clown

    'Hold thy peace, thou knave,' knight? I shall be
    constrained in't to call thee knave, knight.

SIR ANDREW

    'Tis not the first time I have constrained one to
    call me knave. Begin, fool: it begins 'Hold thy peace.'

Clown

    I shall never begin if I hold my peace.

SIR ANDREW

    Good, i' faith. Come, begin.

    Catch sung

    Enter MARIA

MARIA

    What a caterwauling do you keep here! If my lady
    have not called up her steward Malvolio and bid him
    turn you out of doors, never trust me.

SIR TOBY BELCH

    My lady's a Cataian, we are politicians, Malvolio's
    a Peg-a-Ramsey, and 'Three merry men be we.' Am not
    I consanguineous? am I not of her blood?
    Tillyvally. Lady!

    Sings
    'There dwelt a man in Babylon, lady, lady!'

Clown

    Beshrew me, the knight's in admirable fooling.

SIR ANDREW

    Ay, he does well enough if he be disposed, and so do
    I too: he does it with a better grace, but I do it
    more natural.

SIR TOBY BELCH

    [Sings] 'O, the twelfth day of December,'--

MARIA

    For the love o' God, peace!

    Enter MALVOLIO

MALVOLIO

    My masters, are you mad? or what are you? Have ye
    no wit, manners, nor honesty, but to gabble like
    tinkers at this time of night? Do ye make an
    alehouse of my lady's house, that ye squeak out your
    coziers' catches without any mitigation or remorse
    of voice? Is there no respect of place, persons, nor
    time in you?

SIR TOBY BELCH

    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 misdemeanors, 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 farewell.

SIR TOBY BELCH

    '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 BELCH

    'But I will never die.'

Clown

    Sir Toby, there you lie.

MALVOLIO

    This is much credit to you.

SIR TOBY BELCH

    'Shall I bid him go?'

Clown

    'What an if you do?'

SIR TOBY BELCH

    'Shall I bid him go, and spare not?'

Clown

    'O no, no, no, no, you dare not.'

SIR TOBY BELCH

    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' the
    mouth too.

SIR TOBY BELCH

    Thou'rt i' the right. Go, sir, rub your chain with
    crumbs. A stoup of wine, Maria!

MALVOLIO

    Mistress Mary, if you prized 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

    'Twere 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 BELCH

    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 today with thy 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 BELCH

    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'ld beat him like a dog!

SIR TOBY BELCH

    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 affectioned ass,
    that cons state without book and utters it by great
    swarths: the best persuaded of himself, so
    crammed, 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 BELCH

    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 BELCH

    Excellent! I smell a device.

SIR ANDREW

    I have't in my nose too.

SIR TOBY BELCH

    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, 'twill 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 BELCH

    Good night, Penthesilea.

SIR ANDREW

    Before me, she's a good wench.

SIR TOBY BELCH

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

SIR ANDREW

    I was adored once too.

SIR TOBY BELCH

    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 BELCH

    Send for money, knight: if thou hast her not i'
    the end, call me cut.

SIR ANDREW

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

SIR TOBY BELCH

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

    Exeunt