Sir To. A love-fong, a love-fong. Sir And Ay, ay; I care not for good life. Clown fings. O mifirefs mine, where are you roaming? Sir And. Excellent good, f'faith! Clo. What is love? 'tis not hereafter; 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, it 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. Moft 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 conftrain'd one to call me knave. Begin, fool; it begins, Hold thy peace. Clo. I fhall never begin, if I hold my peace. Enter MARIA. [They fing a catch. Mar. What a catterwauling do you keep here? If my lady have not call'd up her fteward, Malvolio, and bid him turn you out of doors, never trust me. Sir To. My lady's a Cataian, we are politicians; Malvolio's a Peg-a-Ramfey, and Three merry men be we. Am not I confanguineous? am I not 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 natural. Sir To. O, the twelfth day of December-[Singing. 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 ale-house of my lady's houfe, that ye fqueak out your coziers' catches without any mi D tigation tigation or remorfe of voice? Is there no refpect of place, perfons, nor time in you? Sir To. We did keep time, fir, in our catches. Sneck up! Mal. Sir Toby, I must be round with you. My lady bade me tell you, that, though the harbours you as her kinfman, fhe's nothing ally'd to your diforders. If you can separate yourself and your misdemeanors, you are welcome to the houfe; if not, an it would please you to take leave of her, fhe is very willing to bid you farewell. Sir To. Farewell, dear heart, fince I must needs be gone. Mal. Nay, good Sir Toby. Clo. His eyes do fhew, his days are almoft done. 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? Sir To. Out o' tune, fir, ye lie.-Art any more than a steward? Dost thou think, because thou art virtuous, there fhall be no more cakes and ale? Clo. Yes, by Saint Anne; and ginger fhall be hot i' the mouth too. Sir To. Thou'rt i' the right.-Go, fir, rub your chain with crumbs :-A ftoop of wine, Maria!. Mal. Miftrefs Mary, if you priz'd my lady's favour at any thing more than contempt, you would not give means for this uncivil rule; fhe fhall know of it, by this hand. [Exit. Mar. Mar. Go fhake 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 promife with him, and make a fool of him. Sir To. Do't, knight; I'll write thee a chal lenge; 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 count's was to-day with my lady, fhe 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 pu, ritan. Sir And. O, if I thought that, I'd beat him like a dog. Sir To. What, for being a puritan? thy exquifite reafon, 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-pleafer; an affection'd afs, that cons ftate without book, and utters it by great fwarths; the beft perfuaded of himself, fo 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? D 2 Mar. Aa II. Mar." I will drop in his way fome 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 fhall find himself moft feelingly perfonated: I very like my lady, your niece; on a forgotten matter we can hardly make distinction of our hands. can write Sir To. Excellent! I fmell a device. Sir And. I hav't in my nofe too. Sir To. He fhall think, by the letters that thou wilt drop, that they come from my niece, and that fhe is in love with him. Mar. My purpose is, indeed, a horse of that colour. Sir And. And your horfe now would make him an afs. 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 fhall find the letter; observe his construction of it. For this night to bed, and dream on the event. Farewell. Sir To. Good night, Penthefilea. [Exit. Sir And. Before me, fhe'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 fend for more money. Sir And. If I cannot recover your niece, I am foul way out. |