Twelfth Night By William Shakespeare Act III: Scene 4

FABIAN.
Here he is, here he is. How is 't with you, sir? how is 't with
you, man?

MALVOLIO.
Go off; I discard you: let me enjoy my private; go off.

MARIA.
Lo, how hollow the fiend speaks within him! did not I tell you?
Sir Toby, my lady prays you to have a care of him.

MALVOLIO.
Ah, ha! does she so?

SIR TOBY.
Go to, go to; peace, peace; we must deal gently with him: let me
alone. How do you, Malvolio? how is 't with you? What, man! defy
the devil; consider, he 's an enemy to mankind.

MALVOLIO.
Do you know what you say?

MARIA.
La you, and you speak ill of the devil, how he takes it at heart!
Pray God, he be not bewitch'd! My lady would not lose him for
more than I 'll say.

MALVOLIO.
How now, mistress!

MARIA.
O Lord!

SIR TOBY.
Prithee, hold thy peace; this is not the way: do you not see you
move him? let me alone with him.

FABIAN.
No way but gentleness; gently, gently: the fiend is rough, and
will not be roughly us'd.

SIR TOBY.
Why, how now, my bawcock! how dost thou, chuck?

MALVOLIO.
Sir!

SIR TOBY.
Ay, Biddy, come with me. What, man! 't is not for gravity to play
at cherry-pit with Satan. Hang him, foul collier!

MARIA.
Get him to say his prayers; good Sir Toby, get him to pray.

MALVOLIO.
My prayers, minx!

MARIA.
No, I warrant you, he will not hear of godliness.

MALVOLIO.
Go, hang yourselves all! you are idle shallow things. I am not of
your element; you shall know more hereafter.

[Exit.]

SIR TOBY.
Is 't possible?

FABIAN.
If this were play'd upon a stage now, I could condemn it as an
improbable fiction.

SIR TOBY.
His very genius hath taken the infection of the device, man.

MARIA.
Nay, pursue him now, lest the device take air and taint.

FABIAN.
Why, we shall make him mad indeed.

MARIA.
The house will be the quieter.

SIR TOBY.
Come, we 'll have him in a dark room and bound. My niece is
already in the belief that he 's mad: we may carry it thus, for
our pleasure and his penance, till our very pastime, tired out of
breath, prompt us to have mercy on him; at which time we will
bring the device to the bar, and crown thee for a finder of
madmen. But see, but see.

[Enter SIR ANDREW.]

FABIAN.
More matter for a May morning.

SIR ANDREW.
Here 's the challenge, read it; I warrant there 's vinegar and
pepper in 't.

FABIAN.
Is 't so saucy?

SIR ANDREW.
Ay, is 't, I warrant him; do but read.

SIR TOBY.
Give me. [Reads] Youth, whatsoever thou art, thou art but a
scurvy fellow.

FABIAN.
Good and valiant.

SIR TOBY.
[Reads] Wonder not, nor admire not in thy mind, why I do call
thee so, for I will show thee no reason for 't.

FABIAN.
A good note; that keeps you from the blow of the law.

SIR TOBY.
[Reads] Thou com'st to the lady Olivia, and in my sight she uses
thee kindly: but thou liest in thy throat; that is not the matter
I challenge thee for.

FABIAN.
Very brief, and to exceeding good sense — less.

SIR TOBY.
[Reads] I will waylay thee going home; where if it be thy chance
to kill me, —

FABIAN.
Good.

SIR TOBY.
[Reads.] Thou kill 'st me like a rogue and a villain.

FABIAN.
Still you keep o' th' windy side of the law; good.

SIR TOBY.
[Reads] Fare thee well; and God have mercy upon one of our souls!
He may have mercy upon mine; but my hope is better, and so look
to thyself. Thy friend, as thou usest him, and thy sworn enemy,
ANDREW AGUECHEEK.
If this letter move him not, his legs cannot; I'll give 't him.

MARIA.
You may have very fit occasion for 't; he is now in some commerce
with my lady, and will by and by depart.

SIR TOBY.
Go, Sir Andrew; scout me for him at the corner of the orchard,
like a bum-baily. So soon as ever thou see'st him, draw; and as
thou drawest, swear horrible; for it comes to pass oft, that a
terrible oath, with a swaggering accent sharply twang'd off,
gives manhood more approbation than ever proof itself would have
earn'd him. Away!

SIR ANDREW.
Nay, let me alone for swearing.

[Exit.]

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