1    Approach, Sir Andrew: not to be abed after
2    midnight is to be up betimes; and 'diluculo
3    surgere,' thou know'st,--

4    Nay, my troth, I know not: but I know, to be up
5    late is to be up late.

6    A false conclusion: I hate it as an unfilled can.
7    To be up after midnight and to go to bed then, is
8    early: so that to go to bed after midnight is to go
9    to bed betimes. Does not our life consist of the
10   four elements?

11   Faith, so they say; but I think it rather consists
12   of eating and drinking.

13   Thou'rt a scholar; let us therefore eat and drink.
14   Marian, I say! a stoup of wine!

15   Here comes the fool, i' faith.

16   How now, my hearts! did you never see the picture
17   of 'we three'?

18   Welcome, ass. Now let's have a catch.

19   By my troth, the fool has an excellent breast. I
20   had rather than forty shillings I had such a leg,
21   and so sweet a breath to sing, as the fool has. In
22   sooth, thou wast in very gracious fooling last
23   night, when thou spokest of Pigrogromitus, of the
24   Vapians passing the equinoctial of Queubus: 'twas
25   very good, i' faith. I sent thee sixpence for thy
26   leman: hadst it?

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

30   Excellent! why, this is the best fooling, when all
31   is done. Now, a song.

32   Come on; there is sixpence for you: let's have a song.

33   There's a testril of me too: if one knight give a--

34   Would you have a love-song, or a song of good life?

35   A love-song, a love-song.

36   Ay, ay: I care not for good life.

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

43   Excellent good, i' faith.

44   Good, good.

Sings
45   What is love? 'tis not hereafter;
46   Present mirth hath present laughter;
47   What's to come is still unsure:
48   In delay there lies no plenty;
49   Then come kiss me, sweet and twenty,
50   Youth's a stuff will not endure.

51   A mellifluous voice, as I am true knight.

52   A contagious breath.

53   Very sweet and contagious, i' faith.

54   To hear by the nose, it is dulcet in contagion.
55   But shall we make the welkin dance indeed? shall we
56   rouse the night-owl in a catch that will draw three
57   souls out of one weaver? shall we do that?

58   An you love me, let's do't: I am dog at a catch.

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

60   Most certain. Let our catch be, 'Thou knave.'

61   'Hold thy peace, thou knave,' knight? I shall be
62   constrained in't to call thee knave, knight.

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

65   I shall never begin if I hold my peace.

66   Good, i' faith. Come, begin.

67   What a caterwauling do you keep here! If my lady
68   have not called up her steward Malvolio and bid him
69   turn you out of doors, never trust me.

70   My lady's a Cataian, we are politicians, Malvolio's
71   a Peg-a-Ramsey, and 'Three merry men be we.' Am not
72   I consanguineous? am I not of her blood?
73   Tillyvally. Lady!
Sings
74   'There dwelt a man in Babylon, lady, lady!'

75   Beshrew me, the knight's in admirable fooling.

76   Ay, he does well enough if he be disposed, and so do
77   I too: he does it with a better grace, but I do it
78   more natural.

Sings
79    'O, the twelfth day of December,'--

80   For the love o' God, peace!

81   My masters, are you mad? or what are you? Have ye
82   no wit, manners, nor honesty, but to gabble like
83   tinkers at this time of night? Do ye make an
84   alehouse of my lady's house, that ye squeak out your
85   coziers' catches without any mitigation or remorse
86   of voice? Is there no respect of place, persons, nor
87   time in you?

88   We did keep time, sir, in our catches. Sneck up!

89   Sir Toby, I must be round with you. My lady bade me
90   tell you, that, though she harbours you as her
91   kinsman, she's nothing allied to your disorders. If
92   you can separate yourself and your misdemeanors, you
93   are welcome to the house; if not, an it would please
94   you to take leave of her, she is very willing to bid
95   you farewell.

96   'Farewell, dear heart, since I must needs be gone.'

97   Nay, good Sir Toby.

98   'His eyes do show his days are almost done.'

99   Is't even so?

100  'But I will never die.'

101  Sir Toby, there you lie.

102  This is much credit to you.

103  'Shall I bid him go?'

104  'What an if you do?'

105  'Shall I bid him go, and spare not?'

106  'O no, no, no, no, you dare not.'

107  Out o' tune, sir: ye lie. Art any more than a
108  steward? Dost thou think, because thou art
109  virtuous, there shall be no more cakes and ale?

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

112  Thou'rt i' the right. Go, sir, rub your chain with
113  crumbs. A stoup of wine, Maria!

114  Mistress Mary, if you prized my lady's favour at any
115  thing more than contempt, you would not give means
116  for this uncivil rule: she shall know of it, by this hand.

117  Go shake your ears.

118  'Twere as good a deed as to drink when a man's
119  a-hungry, to challenge him the field, and then to
120  break promise with him and make a fool of him.

121  Do't, knight: I'll write thee a challenge: or I'll
122  deliver thy indignation to him by word of mouth.

123  Sweet Sir Toby, be patient for tonight: since the
124  youth of the count's was today with thy lady, she is
125  much out of quiet. For Monsieur Malvolio, let me
126  alone with him: if I do not gull him into a
127  nayword, and make him a common recreation, do not
128  think I have wit enough to lie straight in my bed:
129  I know I can do it.

130  Possess us, possess us; tell us something of him.

131  Marry, sir, sometimes he is a kind of puritan.

132  O, if I thought that I'ld beat him like a dog!

133  What, for being a puritan? thy exquisite reason,
134  dear knight?

135  I have no exquisite reason for't, but I have reason
136  good enough.

137  The devil a puritan that he is, or any thing
138  constantly, but a time-pleaser; an affectioned ass,
139  that cons state without book and utters it by great
140  swarths: the best persuaded of himself, so
141  crammed, as he thinks, with excellencies, that it is
142  his grounds of faith that all that look on him love
143  him; and on that vice in him will my revenge find
144  notable cause to work.

145  What wilt thou do?

146  I will drop in his way some obscure epistles of
147  love; wherein, by the colour of his beard, the shape
148  of his leg, the manner of his gait, the expressure
149  of his eye, forehead, and complexion, he shall find
150  himself most feelingly personated. I can write very
151  like my lady your niece: on a forgotten matter we
152  can hardly make distinction of our hands.

153  Excellent! I smell a device.

154  I have't in my nose too.

155  He shall think, by the letters that thou wilt drop,
156  that they come from my niece, and that she's in
157  love with him.

158  My purpose is, indeed, a horse of that colour.

159  And your horse now would make him an ass.

160  Ass, I doubt not.

161  O, 'twill be admirable!

162  Sport royal, I warrant you: I know my physic will
163  work with him. I will plant you two, and let the
164  fool make a third, where he shall find the letter:
165  observe his construction of it. For this night, to
166  bed, and dream on the event. Farewell.

167  Good night, Penthesilea.

168  Before me, she's a good wench.

169  She's a beagle, true-bred, and one that adores me:
170  what o' that?

171  I was adored once too.

172  Let's to bed, knight. Thou hadst need send for
173  more money.

174  If I cannot recover your niece, I am a foul way out.

175  Send for money, knight: if thou hast her not i'
176  the end, call me cut.

177  If I do not, never trust me, take it how you will.

178  Come, come, I'll go burn some sack; 'tis too late
179  to go to bed now: come, knight; come, knight.