A Room in Olivia's House.
 Enter SIR TOBY BELCH and SIR ANDREW AGUECHEEK.

Sir Toby	Approach, Sir Andrew. Not to be abed after midnight is to be 
	up betimes; and 'Diluculo surgere' thou know'st-

Sir Andrew	Nay, by my troth, I know not; but I know to be up late is to 
	be up late.

Sir Toby	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?

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

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

                               Enter FESTE.

Sir Andrew	Here comes the fool, i'faith.

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

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

Sir Andrew	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 spok'st of 
	Pigrogromitus, of the Vapians passing the equinoctial of 
	Queubus: 'twas 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.

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

Sir Toby	Come on, there is sixpence for you. Let's have a song.

Sir Andrew	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?

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

Sir Andrew	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,
				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	Excellent good, i'faith.

Sir Toby	Good, good.

Feste	[Sings.]	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.

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

Sir Toby	A contagious breath.

Sir Andrew	Very sweet and contagious, i'faith.

Sir Toby	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?

Sir Andrew	And 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	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.

Sir Andrew	'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	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	My lady's a Cataian, we are politicians, Malvolio's a Peg-a-
	Ramsey, and [Sings.] "Three merry men be we". Am not I 
	consanguineous? Am I not of her blood? Tilly-vally, Lady. 
	[Sings.] "There dwelt a man in Babylon, Lady, Lady."

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

Sir Andrew	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	[Sings.]	"O' the twelfth day of December"-

Maria	For the love o'God, peace!

                             Enter MALVOLIO.

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

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 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.

Sir Toby	[Sings.] "Farewell, dear heart, since I must needs be gone."

Maria	Nay, good Sir Toby.

Feste	[Sings.] "His eyes do show his days are almost done."

Malvolio	Is't even so?

Sir Toby	[Sings.] "But I will never die."

Feste	[Sings.] "Sir Toby, there you lie."

Malvolio	This is much credit to you.

Sir Toby	[Sings.] "Shall I bid him go?"

Feste	[Sings.] "What an if you do?"

Sir Toby	[Sings.] "Shall I bid him go, and spare not?"

Feste	[Sings.] "O no, no, no, no, you dare not."

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

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

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

Malvolio	Mistress Mary, if you prized my lady's favour at anything 
	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 Andrew	'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	Do't, knight. I'll write thee a challenge, or I'll deliver 
	thy indignation to him by word of mouth.

Maria	Sweet Sir Toby, be patient for tonight. Since the youth of 
	the count's was today 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 do it.

Sir Toby	Possess us, possess us. Tell us something of him.

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

Sir Andrew	O, if I thought that, I'd beat him like a dog.

Sir Toby	What, for being a puritan? Thy exquisite reason, dear 
	knight?

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

Maria	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 excellencies, 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.

Sir Toby	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 our 
	hands.

Sir Toby	Excellent, I smell a device.

Sir Andrew	I have't in my nose too.

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

Maria	My purpose is indeed a horse of that colour.

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

Maria	Ass, I doubt not.

Sir Andrew	O, 'twill be admirable.

Maria	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.
														[Exit.
Sir Toby	Good night, Penthesilea.

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

Sir Toby	She's a beagle true-bred, and one that adores me. What o' 
	that?

Sir Andrew	I was adored once too.

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

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

Sir Toby	Send for money, knight; if thou hast her not i'th' end, call 
	me cut.

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

Sir Toby	Come, come, I'll go burn some sack, 'tis too late to go to 
	bed now. Come, knight, come, knight.
														[Exeunt.
