Approach, Sir Andrew; not to be a-bed after midnight is to
be up betimes; and diluculo surgere, thou know'st.
Nay; by my troth, I know not; but I know to be up late
is to be up late.
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. Do not our lives
consist of the four elements?
Faith, so they say; but I think it rather consists of
eating and drinking.
Thou art a scholar; let us therefore eat and drink.--
Marian, I say!--a stoup of wine.
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?
I did impeticos thy gratillity; for Malvolio's nose is no
whipstock. My lady has a white hand, and the Myrmidons are no
Excellent! Why, this is the best fooling, when all is
done. Now, a song.
Come on; there is sixpence for you: let's have a song.
There's a testril of me too: if one knight give a--
Would you have a love-song, or a song of good life?
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.
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.
A mellifluous voice, as I am true knight.
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
An you love me, let's do't: I am dog at a catch.
By'r lady, sir, and some dogs will catch well.
Most certain: let our catch be, 'Thou knave.'
'Hold thy peace, thou knave' knight? I shall be constrain'd
in't to call thee knave, knight.
'Tis not the first time I have constrained one to call
me knave. Begin, fool; it begins 'Hold thy peace.'
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.
My lady's a Cataian, we are politicians; Malvolio's a
Peg-a-Ramsey, and [Singing.]
'Three merry men be we.'
Am not I consanguineous? am I not of her blood? Tilly-valley,
'There dwelt a man in Babylon, lady, lady.'
Beshrew me, the knight's in admirable fooling.
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 [Singing] O, the twelfth day of December,--
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?
We did keep time, sir, in our catches. Sneck up!
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
misdemeanours, 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, dear heart, since I must needs be gone.'
'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.
Do't, knight; I'll write thee a challenge; or I'll
deliver thy indignation to him by word of mouth.
Sweet Sir Toby, be patient for to-night; since the youth of
the count'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 lie straight in my bed. I know I can
Possess us, possess us; tell us something of him.
Marry, sir, sometimes he is a kind of Puritan.
O, if I thought that, I'd beat him like a dog.
What, for being a Puritan? thy exquisite reason, dear knight?
I have no exquisite reason for't, but I have reason good enough.
The devil a Puritan that he is, or anything 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 excellences, 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.
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.
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.