Act II, Scene 3

OLIVIA’s house.

[Enter SIR TOBY BELCH and SIR ANDREW]

• Sir Toby Belch. Approach, Sir Andrew: not to be abed after
  midnight is to be up betimes; and 'diluculo
  surgere,' thou know'st,—

• Sir Andrew Aguecheek. Nay, my troth, I know not: but I know, to be up
  late is to be up late. 705

• Sir Toby Belch. 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. Does not our life consist of the
  four elements? 710

• Sir Andrew Aguecheek. Faith, so they say; but I think it rather consists
  of eating and drinking.

• Sir Toby Belch. Thou'rt a scholar; let us therefore eat and drink.
  Marian, I say! a stoup of wine!

[Enter Clown]

• Sir Andrew Aguecheek. Here comes the fool, i' faith.

• Feste. How now, my hearts! did you never see the picture
  of 'we three'?

• Sir Toby Belch. Welcome, ass. Now let's have a catch.

• Sir Andrew Aguecheek. By my troth, the fool has an excellent breast. I 720
  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 725
  very good, i' faith. I sent thee sixpence for thy
  leman: hadst it?

• Feste. I did impeticos thy gratillity; for Malvolio's nose
  is no whipstock: my lady has a white hand, and the
  Myrmidons are no bottle-ale houses. 730

• Sir Andrew Aguecheek. Excellent! why, this is the best fooling, when all
  is done. Now, a song.

• Sir Toby Belch. Come on; there is sixpence for you: let's have a song.

• Sir Andrew Aguecheek. There's a testril of me too: if one knight give a—

• Feste. Would you have a love-song, or a song of good life? 735

• Sir Toby Belch. A love-song, a love-song.

• Sir Andrew Aguecheek. Ay, ay: I care not for good life.

• Feste. [Sings]
  O mistress mine, where are you roaming?
  O, stay and hear; your true love's coming, 740
  That can sing both high and low:
  Trip no further, pretty sweeting;
  Journeys end in lovers meeting,
  Every wise man's son doth know.

• Sir Andrew Aguecheek. Excellent good, i' faith. 745

• Sir Toby Belch. Good, good.

• Feste. [Sings]
  What is love? 'tis not hereafter;
  Present mirth hath present laughter;
  What's to come is still unsure: 750
  In delay there lies no plenty;
  Then come kiss me, sweet and twenty,
  Youth's a stuff will not endure.

• Sir Andrew Aguecheek. A mellifluous voice, as I am true knight.

• Sir Toby Belch. A contagious breath. 755

• Sir Andrew Aguecheek. Very sweet and contagious, i' faith.

• Sir Toby Belch. 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 that? 760

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

• Feste. By'r lady, sir, and some dogs will catch well.

• Sir Andrew Aguecheek. Most certain. Let our catch be, 'Thou knave.'

• Feste. 'Hold thy peace, thou knave,' knight? I shall be
  constrained in't to call thee knave, knight. 765

• Sir Andrew Aguecheek. 'Tis not the first time I have constrained one to
  call me knave. Begin, fool: it begins 'Hold thy peace.'

• Feste. I shall never begin if I hold my peace.

• Sir Andrew Aguecheek. Good, i' faith. Come, begin.

[Catch sung]

[Enter MARIA]

• Maria. 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.

• Sir Toby Belch. My lady's a Cataian, we are politicians, Malvolio's 775
  a Peg-a-Ramsey, and 'Three merry men be we.' Am not
  I consanguineous? am I not of her blood?
  Tillyvally. Lady!
  [Sings]
  'There dwelt a man in Babylon, lady, lady!' 780

• Feste. Beshrew me, the knight's in admirable fooling.

• Sir Andrew Aguecheek. 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 Belch. [Sings] 'O, the twelfth day of December,'— 785

• Maria. For the love o' God, peace!

[Enter MALVOLIO]

• Malvolio. My masters, are you mad? or what are you? Have ye
  no wit, manners, nor honesty, but to gabble like
  tinkers at this time of night? Do ye make an 790
  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 Toby Belch. We did keep time, sir, in our catches. Sneck up! 795

• Malvolio. 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 800
  you to take leave of her, she is very willing to bid
  you farewell.

• Sir Toby Belch. 'Farewell, dear heart, since I must needs be gone.'

• Maria. Nay, good Sir Toby.

• Feste. 'His eyes do show his days are almost done.' 805

• Malvolio. Is't even so?

• Sir Toby Belch. 'But I will never die.'

• Feste. Sir Toby, there you lie.

• Malvolio. This is much credit to you.

• Sir Toby Belch. 'Shall I bid him go?' 810

• Feste. 'What an if you do?'

• Sir Toby Belch. 'Shall I bid him go, and spare not?'

• Feste. 'O no, no, no, no, you dare not.'

• Sir Toby Belch. Out o' tune, sir: ye lie. Art any more than a
  steward? Dost thou think, because thou art 815
  virtuous, there shall be no more cakes and ale?

• Feste. Yes, by Saint Anne, and ginger shall be hot i' the
  mouth too.

• Sir Toby Belch. Thou'rt i' the right. Go, sir, rub your chain with
  crumbs. A stoup of wine, Maria! 820

• Malvolio. 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. 825

• Sir Andrew Aguecheek. '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.

• Sir Toby Belch. Do't, knight: I'll write thee a challenge: or I'll
  deliver thy indignation to him by word of mouth. 830

• Maria. Sweet Sir Toby, be patient for tonight: since the
  youth of the count's was today with thy 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 835
  think I have wit enough to lie straight in my bed:
  I know I can do it.

• Sir Toby Belch. Possess us, possess us; tell us something of him.

• Maria. Marry, sir, sometimes he is a kind of puritan.

• Sir Andrew Aguecheek. O, if I thought that I'ld beat him like a dog! 840

• Sir Toby Belch. What, for being a puritan? thy exquisite reason,
  dear knight?

• Sir Andrew Aguecheek. I have no exquisite reason for't, but I have reason
  good enough.

• Maria. The devil a puritan that he is, or any thing 845
  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 excellencies, that it is
  his grounds of faith that all that look on him love 850
  him; and on that vice in him will my revenge find
  notable cause to work.

• Sir Toby Belch. 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 855
  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. 860

• Sir Toby Belch. Excellent! I smell a device.

• Sir Andrew Aguecheek. I have't in my nose too.

• Sir Toby Belch. He shall think, by the letters that thou wilt drop,
  that they come from my niece, and that she's in
  love with him. 865

• Maria. My purpose is, indeed, a horse of that colour.

• Sir Andrew Aguecheek. And your horse now would make him an ass.

• Maria. Ass, I doubt not.

• Sir Andrew Aguecheek. O, 'twill be admirable!

• Maria. Sport royal, I warrant you: I know my physic will 870
  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.

[Exit]

• Sir Toby Belch. Good night, Penthesilea.

• Sir Andrew Aguecheek. Before me, she's a good wench.

• Sir Toby Belch. She's a beagle, true-bred, and one that adores me:
  what o' that?

• Sir Andrew Aguecheek. I was adored once too. 880

• Sir Toby Belch. Let's to bed, knight. Thou hadst need send for
  more money.

• Sir Andrew Aguecheek. If I cannot recover your niece, I am a foul way out.

• Sir Toby Belch. Send for money, knight: if thou hast her not i'
  the end, call me cut. 885

• Sir Andrew Aguecheek. If I do not, never trust me, take it how you will.

• Sir Toby Belch. Come, come, I'll go burn some sack; 'tis too late
  to go to bed now: come, knight; come, knight.

[Exeunt]