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She loves me, sure ; the cunning of her paflion
SCENE changes to Olivia's Houfe.
Enter Sir Toby, and Sir Andrew. Sir To. A Pproach, Sir Andrew : not to be a-bed, after
midnight, is to be up betimes; and Diluculo furgere, thou know'ft,
Sir And. Nay, by my troth, I know not : but I know, to be up late, is to be up
late. Sir To. A false conclusion: I hate it, as an unhild can; to be up after midnight, and to go to bed then, is early ; fo that to go to bed after midnight, is to go to bed betimes. Does not our life consist of the four elements ?
Sir And. 'Faith, so they fay; but, I think, it rather confifts of eating and drinking,
Sir To. Th’art a scholar, let us therefore eat and drink. Maria 1 I fay! --a stoop of wine.
Oftay and hear, your true love's coming,
Clo. How now, my hearts ? did you never see the picture of we three?
Sir To. Welcome, ass, now let's have a catch.
Sir Ard. By my troth, the fool has an excellent brealt, I had rather than forty shillings I had such a leg, and so Sweet a breath to fing, as the fool has. In footh, thou waft in very gracious fooling last night, when thou spok'it of Pigrogromitus, :of the Vapians passing the Equinoctial of Queubus : 'twas very good, i'faith : (5) I sent thee fix-pence for thy Leman, hadít it:?
Clo. I did impeticos thy gratillity'; for Malvolio's nose. is no whip-stock. My Lady has a white hand, and the Myrmidons are no bottle-ale houses.
Sir And. Excellent: why, this is the best fooling, when all is.done. Now, a Song.
Sir To. Come on, there's Six-pence for you. Let's have a Song.
Sir And. There's a testril of me too; if one Knight give a
Clo. Would you have a Love-song, or a Song of good life?
Sir To. A Love-song, a Love-song.
That can fing both bigh and low. Trip no further, pretty sweeting ; Journeys end in lovers' meeting,
Every wise man's fon doth know.
(5) I fent ebee fix pence for tby Lemon, bads it?] But the Clown was neither Pantler, nor Butler, The Poet's Word was certainly mistaken by the "Ignorance of the Printers. I have rekor'd, leman, i, e. 'I lent' thee Sixpence to spend on thy. Mistress.
Sir And. Excellent good, i'faith!
Sir To. Good, good.
Prefent mirth hath present laughter::
What's to come, is still unfure ;
Youtb's a fuff will not endure.
Sir To. To hear by the nose, it is dulcet in contagion. But shall we make the welkin dance, indeed? Shall we rouze the night owl in a catch, that will draw three souls out of one weaver shall we do that?
Sir And. An you love me, let's do't: I am a dog at a catch.
Clo. By'r Lady, Sir, and some dogs will catch well. Sir And. Most certain ; let our catch be, Thou knave.
Clo. Hold thy peace, thou-knave, Knight. I shall be constrain'd in't, to call these knave, Knight.
Sir And. 'Tis not the first time I have constrain'd one to call me knave. Begin, fool; it begins, Hold the peace. Clo. I shall never begin, if I hold my peace. Sir And. Good, i'faith: come, begin.
[They fing a catch.
Enter Maria. Mar. What a catterwauling do you keep here? if my Lady have not call'd up her Iteward, Malvolio, and bid him turn you out of doors, 'never trust me.
Sir To My Lady's a Catayan, we are politicians, Malvolio's
's a Peg-a-Ramsey, and Three merry, men be we. Am not I consanguinious ? am not I of her blood? Tilly walley, Lady! there dwelt a man in Babylon, Lady, Lady.
(Singing Clo. Belhrew me, the Knight's in admirable fooling. Sir. And. Ay, he does well enough if he be dispos'd,
and so 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. Mar. For the love o'God, peace.
Enter Malvolio. Mal. My masters, 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 squeak out your coziers' catches without any mitigation or remorse of voice? is there no respect of place, persons, nor time in you?
Sir To. We did keep time, Sir, in our catches. Sneck up!
[Hiccoughs. Mal. Sir Toby, I must be round with you. My Lady bade me tell you, that tho' fhe harbours you as her Uncle, The'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, she is very willing to bid you
farewel. Sir To. Farewel, dear heart, since I must needs be gone. Mal. Nay, good Sir Toby. Clo. His eyes do Joew, his days are almost done. Mal. Is't even so ? Sir To. But I will never die. Clo. Sir Toby, there
lie. Mal. This is much credit to you. Sir To. Shall I bid him go?
[Singing. Cle. What an if you do? Sir To. Shall I bid him go, and spare not ? Clo. O no, no, no, you dare not.
Sir To. Out o'time, 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 ftoop 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.
[Exit. Mar. Go shake your ears.
Sir And. 'Twere as good a deed as to drink whers 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, the is much out of quiet. For Monsieur Malvolio, let me alone with him : if I do not gull him into a nay-word, 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 To. Poffess us, possess us, tell us something of him
Mar. Marry, Sir, sometimes he is a kind of a Puritan.
Sir Andi O, if I thought that, I'd beat him like a dog
Sir To. What, for being a Puritan? thy, exquisite reafon, 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
, thac cons state without book, and utters it by great swarths : the best persuaded 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?
Mar. I will drop in his way fome obscure epiftles 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 diftinction of our hands, Sir To. Excellent, I smell a device. F 3