SCENE III. OLIVIA'S house
[Enter SIR TOBY and SIR ANDREW.]
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
A false conclusion; I hate it as an unfill'd 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?
Faith, so they say; but I think it rather consists of eating and
Thou 'rt a scholar; let us therefore eat and drink. Marian, I
say! a stoup of wine!
Here comes the fool, i' faith.
How now, my hearts! did you never see the picture of 'We Three'?
Welcome, ass. Now let's have a catch.
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; 't was 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,
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?
A love-song, a love-song.
Ay, ay; I care not for 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.
Excellent good, i' faith.
What is love? 'T is 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.
A contagious breath.
Very sweet and contagious, i' faith.
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?
And 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 constrain'd one to call me knave.
Begin, fool: it begins, 'Hold thy peace.'
I shall never begin, if I hold my peace.
Good, i' faith! Come, begin.
What a caterwauling do you keep here! If my lady have not call'd
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 '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!'
Beshrew me, the knight's in admirable fooling.
Ay, he does well enough if he be dispos'd, and so do I too; he
does it with a better grace, but I do it more natural.
'O, the twelfth day of December,' —
For the love o' God, peace!
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?
We did keep time, sir, in our catches. Sneck up!