Sir AND. A mellifluous voice, as I am a true knight.
Sir To. A contagious breath.

Sir AND. Very fweet and contagious, i'faith.

Sir To To hear by the nose, is dulcet in contagion. But fhall we make the welkin dance, indeed? Shall we rouze the night-owl in a catch, that will draw three fouls out of one weaver? fhall we do that?

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

CLO. By'r lady, fir, and fome dogs will catch well.

Sir AND. Most certain : let our catch be, "Thou knave." CLO. "Hold thy peace, thou knave," knight. I fhall be constrain'd in't, to call thee knave, knight.

Sir AND. 'Tis not the first time I have constrain'd one to call me knave. Begin, fool, it begins, "Hold thy peace." CLO. I shall never begin, if I hold my peace.

Sir AND. Good, i'faith: come, begin. [They fing a catch.

SCENE IV. Enter Maria.

MAR. 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.

Sir To. My lady's a Catayan, we are politicians, Malvolio's a Peg-a-Ramsey, and "Three merry men be we." Am not I confanguineous? am not I of her blood? "Tilly valley, lady! there dwelt a man in Babylon, lady, lady.” [Singing.

CLO. Befhrew me, the knight's in admirable fooling. Sir AND. Ay, he does well enough if he be difpos'd, and fo do I too: he does it with a better grace, but I do it more patural.

Sir To. "O, the Twelfth day of December,"-[Singing,

MAR. For the love of God, peace.

Enter Malvolio.

MAL. My mafters, are you mad? or what are you? have you no wit, manners, nor honefty, but to gabble like tinkers at this time of night? do ye make an alehouse of my lady's house, that ye fqueak out your coziers catches without any mitigation or remorse of voice? is there no respect of place, perfons, nor time in you?

up

Sir To. We did keep time, fir, in our catches. Sneck [Hiccoughs.

!

MAL. Sir Toby, I must be round with you. My lady bade me tell you, that tho' she harbours you as her uncle, fhe's nothing ally'd 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, fhe is very willing to bid you farewel.

Sir To. "Farewell, dear heart, fince I must needs be gone."

MAL. Nay, good Sir Toby.

CLO. "His eyes do fhew his days are almost done."

MAL. Is't even fo?

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?"

CLO." What an if you do?"

Sir To. "Shall I bid him go, and spare not?"

CLO. "O no, no, no, you dare not.”

[Singing.

Sir To. Out o'time, fir, ye lie: art thou any more than a fteward? doft thou think, because thou art virtuous, there fhall be no more cakes and ale?

Co. Yes, by Saint Anne; and ginger fhall be hot i'th' mouth too.

Sir To. Thou'rt i'th' right.

Go, fir, rub your chain

Maria.

priz'd my lady's favour at

with crums. A ftoop of wine, MAL. Mistress Mary, if you any thing more than contempt, you would not give means for this uncivil rule; fhe fhall know of it by this hand.

MAR. Go fhake your ears.

[Exit.

Sir AND. 'Twere as good a deed as to drink when a man's hungry, to challenge him to the field, and then to break promife 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; fince the youth of the Duke's was to day with my Lady, she is much out of quiet. For Monfieur 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 ftraight in my bed: I know I can do it.

:

Sir To. Poffefs us, poffefs us, tell us fomething of him. MAR. Marry, fir, fometimes 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 exquifite reason, dear knight.

Sir AND. I have no exquifite reafon for't, but I have reafon good enough.

MAR. The devil a Puritan that he is, or any thing conftantly but a time-pleaser; an affection'd afs, that cons state without book, and utters it by great fwaths; the best perfuaded of himself; fo cram'd, as he thinks, with excellencies, that it is his ground of faith, that all that look on

kim, love him; and on that vice in him will my revenge find notable caufe to work.

Sir To. What wilt thou do?

MAR. I will drop in his way some obfcure epiftles of love, wherein, by the colour of his beard, the shape of his leg, the manner of his gait, the expreffure of his eye, forehead and complexion, he shall find himself most feelingly perfonated. I can write very like my lady your niece; on a forgotten matter we can hardly make diftinction of our hands.

Sir To. Excellent, I fmell a device.

Sir AND. I have't in my nofe too.

Sir To He hall think by the letters, that thou wilt drop, that they come from my niece, and that she is in love

with him.

MAR. My purpofe is, indeed, a horfe of that colour. Sir AND. And your horfe now would make him an ass. MAR. Afs, I doubt not.

Sir AND. O, 'twill be admirable.

MAR. Sport royal, I warrant you: I know my phyfick will work with him. I will plant you two, and let the fool make a third, where he thall find the letter: obferve his conftruction of it. For this night to bed, and dream on the event. Farewel.

Sir To. Good night, Penthifilea.

Sir AND. Before me, fhe's a good wench.

[Exit.

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 fend for more money.

Sir AND. If I cannot recover your niece, I am a foul way out.

Sir To. Send for money, knight; if thou haft 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 fome fack, 'tis too late to go to bed now. Come, knight; come, knight. [Exeunt.

SCENE VI. Changes to the palace.

Enter Duke, Viola, Curio, and others.

DUKE. Give me fome mufick now. friends

Good morrow,

Now, good Cefario, but that piece of fong,
That old and antique fong, we heard last night;
Methought, it did relieve my paffion much;
More than light airs, and recollected terms
Of thefe most brisk and giddy-paced times.
-Come, but one verfe.

CUR. He is not here, fo please your lordship, that fhould fing it.

DUKE. Who was it?

CUR. Fefte, the jefter, my lord, a fool that the lady Olivia's. father took much delight in. He is about the house.

DUKE. Seek him out, and play the tune the while.

[Ex. Curio.

-Come hither, boy; if ever thou shalt love,

In the fweet pangs of it, remember me;
For fuch as I am, all true lovers are;
Unftaid and skittish in all notions e!fe,

[Mufick.