Clown. Hold my peace! I shall never begin, if I hold my peace. Sir A. Good, i'faith! come, begin. Christmas comes but once a year, And therefore we'll be merry. Enter MARIA. [They sing. Maria. What a catterwauling 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 T. My lady's a Catayan, we are politicians, Malvolio's a Peg-a-Ramsey, and Three merry men be we. Am not I a consanguineous? am I not of her blood? Tilly valley, lady! There dwelt a man in Babylon. Lady, lady. [Singing. Clown. Beshrew me, the knight's in admirable fooling! Sir A. 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. Which is the properest day to drink? Maria. For the love o' Heaven, peace! Enter MALVOLIO. [Singing, Mal. My masters, are you mad? or what are you? Have you no wit, manners, nor honesty, but to gabble like tinkers at this time of night? Do ye make an ale house 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 T. We did keep time, sir, in our catches. Sneck up! Mal. 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 T. Farewell, dear heart, since I must needs be Mal. Nay, good Sir Toby. Clown. His eyes do show, his days are almost done. Mal. It's even so! Sir T. But I will never die. Clown. Sir Toby, O! Sir Toby, there you lie. Sir T. 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? Clown. Yes, by Saint Anne! and ginger shall be hot i'the mouth too. Sir T. Thou'rt i'the right.-Go, sir, rub your chain with crumbs. A stoop of wine, Maria!— Mal. 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 A. '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. Maria. 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 lay straight in my bed I know, I can do it. Sir T. Possess us, possess us; tell us something of him. Maria. Marry, sir, sometimes he is a kind of puritan. Sir A. Oh, if I thought that, I'd beat him like a dog. Sir T. What, for being a puritan? Thy exquisite reason, dear knight? Sir A. 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 swaths: the best persuaded of himself, so crammed, 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 T. 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 hands. Sir T. Excellent! I smell a device. Sir. A. I have it in my nose too. Our Sir T. He shall think by the letters, that thou wilt drop, that they come from my niece, and that she is in love with him. Sir A. O, 'twill be admirable. Maria. Sport royal, I warrant you. I will plant you two, and Fabian shall 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 T. Good night, Penthesilea. Sir A. Before me, she's a good wench. Sir T. She's a beagle, true bred, and one that adores me: What o' that? Sir A. I was adored once too. Sir T. Let's to bed, knight.-Thou hadst need send for more money. Sir A. If I cannot recover your niece, I am a foul way out. Sir T. Send for money, knight; if thou hast her not i'the end, call me Cut. Sir A. If I do not, never trust me, take it how you will. Sir T. Come, come; I'll go burn some sack; 'tis too late to go to bed now. Come, knight; come, knight. [Exeunt. SCENE III. The DUKE's Palace. Enter DUKE and VIOLA. Duke. Come hither, boy: if ever thou shalt love, In the sweet pangs of it, remember me: For, such as I am, all true lovers are; Unstaid and skittish in all motions else, Save, in the constant image of the creature That is belov'd. My life upon't, young though thou art, thine eye Hath it not, boy? Viola. A little, by your favour. Duke. What kind of woman is't? Viola. Of your complexion. Duke. She is not worth thee then. Once more, Cesario, Get thee to yon same sovereign cruelty: The parts, that fortune hath bestow'd upon her, Viola. Sooth, but you must. Say, that some lady, as, perhaps, there is, Can bide the beating of so strong a passion, Make no compare Between that love a woman can bear me, And that I owe Olivia. Viola. Ay, but I know Duke. What dost thou know? Viola. Too well what love women to men may owe: In faith, they are as true of heart, as we. |