FABIAN.
And his opposite, the youth, bears in his visage no great presage
of cruelty.
SIR TOBY.
Look where the youngest wren of nine comes.
[Enter MARIA.]
MARIA.
If you desire the spleen, and will laugh yourselves into
stitches, follow me. Yond gull Malvolio is turn'd heathen, a very
renegado; for there is no Christian, that means to be sav'd by
believing rightly, can ever believe such impossible passages of
grossness. He's in yellow stockings.
SIR TOBY.
And cross-garter'd?
MARIA.
Most villainously; like a pedant that keeps a school i' th'
church. I have dogg'd him, like his murderer. He does obey every
point of the letter that I dropp'd to betray him; he does smile
his face into more lines than is in the new map, with the
augmentation of the Indies: you have not seen such a thing as 't
is. I can hardly forbear hurling things at him. I know my lady
will strike him; if she do, he'll smile, and take 't for a great
favour.
SIR TOBY.
Come, bring us, bring us where he is.
[Exeunt.]
