Twelfth Night — Act 2, Scene 3 · Shakespeare for Bharat

SIR TOBY BELCH

Approach, Sir Andrew: not to be abed aftermidnight is to be up betimes; and 'diluculosurgere,' thou know'st,--

SIR ANDREW

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

SIR TOBY BELCH

A false conclusion: I hate it as an unfilled can.To be up after midnight and to go to bed then, isearly: so that to go to bed after midnight is to goto bed betimes. Does not our life consist of thefour elements?

SIR ANDREW

Faith, so they say; but I think it rather consistsof eating and drinking.

SIR TOBY BELCH

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

SIR ANDREW

Here comes the fool, i' faith.

Clown

How now, my hearts! did you never see the pictureof 'we three'?

SIR TOBY BELCH

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

SIR ANDREW

By my troth, the fool has an excellent breast. Ihad rather than forty shillings I had such a leg,and so sweet a breath to sing, as the fool has. Insooth, thou wast in very gracious fooling lastnight, when thou spokest of Pigrogromitus, of theVapians passing the equinoctial of Queubus: 'twasvery good, i' faith. I sent thee sixpence for thyleman: hadst it?

Clown

I did impeticos thy gratillity; for Malvolio's noseis no whipstock: my lady has a white hand, and theMyrmidons are no bottle-ale houses.

SIR ANDREW

Excellent! why, this is the best fooling, when allis done. Now, a song.

SIR TOBY BELCH

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--

Clown

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

SIR TOBY BELCH

A love-song, a love-song.

SIR ANDREW

Ay, ay: I care not for good life.

Clown

[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 BELCH

Good, good.

Clown

[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 BELCH

A contagious breath.

SIR ANDREW

Very sweet and contagious, i' faith.

SIR TOBY BELCH

To hear by the nose, it is dulcet in contagion.But shall we make the welkin dance indeed? shall werouse the night-owl in a catch that will draw threesouls out of one weaver? shall we do that?

SIR ANDREW

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

Clown

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

SIR ANDREW

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

Clown

'Hold thy peace, thou knave,' knight? I shall beconstrained in't to call thee knave, knight.

SIR ANDREW

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

Clown

I shall never begin if I hold my peace.

SIR ANDREW

Good, i' faith. Come, begin.

MARIA

What a caterwauling do you keep here! If my ladyhave not called up her steward Malvolio and bid himturn you out of doors, never trust me.

SIR TOBY BELCH

My lady's a Cataian, we are politicians, Malvolio'sa Peg-a-Ramsey, and 'Three merry men be we.' Am notI consanguineous? am I not of her blood?Tillyvally. Lady!

SIR TOBY BELCH

'There dwelt a man in Babylon, lady, lady!'

Clown

Beshrew me, the knight's in admirable fooling.

SIR ANDREW

Ay, he does well enough if he be disposed, and so doI too: he does it with a better grace, but I do itmore natural.

SIR TOBY BELCH

[Sings] 'O, the twelfth day of December,'--

MARIA

For the love o' God, peace!

MALVOLIO

My masters, are you mad? or what are you? Have yeno wit, manners, nor honesty, but to gabble liketinkers at this time of night? Do ye make analehouse of my lady's house, that ye squeak out yourcoziers' catches without any mitigation or remorseof voice? Is there no respect of place, persons, nortime in you?

SIR TOBY BELCH

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

MALVOLIO

Sir Toby, I must be round with you. My lady bade metell you, that, though she harbours you as herkinsman, she's nothing allied to your disorders. Ifyou can separate yourself and your misdemeanors, youare welcome to the house; if not, an it would pleaseyou to take leave of her, she is very willing to bidyou farewell.

SIR TOBY BELCH

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

MARIA

Nay, good Sir Toby.

Clown

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

MALVOLIO

Is't even so?

SIR TOBY BELCH

'But I will never die.'

Clown

Sir Toby, there you lie.

MALVOLIO

This is much credit to you.

SIR TOBY BELCH

'Shall I bid him go?'

Clown

'What an if you do?'

SIR TOBY BELCH

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

Clown

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

SIR TOBY BELCH

Out o' tune, sir: ye lie. Art any more than asteward? Dost thou think, because thou artvirtuous, there shall be no more cakes and ale?

Clown

Yes, by Saint Anne, and ginger shall be hot i' themouth too.

SIR TOBY BELCH

Thou'rt i' the right. Go, sir, rub your chain withcrumbs. A stoup of wine, Maria!

MALVOLIO

Mistress Mary, if you prized my lady's favour at anything more than contempt, you would not give meansfor this uncivil rule: she shall know of it, by this hand.

MARIA

Go shake your ears.

SIR ANDREW

'Twere as good a deed as to drink when a man'sa-hungry, to challenge him the field, and then tobreak promise with him and make a fool of him.

SIR TOBY BELCH

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

MARIA

Sweet Sir Toby, be patient for tonight: since theyouth of the count's was today with thy lady, she ismuch out of quiet. For Monsieur Malvolio, let mealone with him: if I do not gull him into anayword, and make him a common recreation, do notthink I have wit enough to lie straight in my bed:I know I can do it.

SIR TOBY BELCH

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'ld beat him like a dog!

SIR TOBY BELCH

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

SIR ANDREW

I have no exquisite reason for't, but I have reasongood enough.

MARIA

The devil a puritan that he is, or any thingconstantly, but a time-pleaser; an affectioned ass,that cons state without book and utters it by greatswarths: the best persuaded of himself, socrammed, as he thinks, with excellencies, that it ishis grounds of faith that all that look on him lovehim; and on that vice in him will my revenge findnotable cause to work.

SIR TOBY BELCH

What wilt thou do?

MARIA

I will drop in his way some obscure epistles oflove; wherein, by the colour of his beard, the shapeof his leg, the manner of his gait, the expressureof his eye, forehead, and complexion, he shall findhimself most feelingly personated. I can write verylike my lady your niece: on a forgotten matter wecan hardly make distinction of our hands.

SIR TOBY BELCH

Excellent! I smell a device.

SIR ANDREW

I have't in my nose too.

SIR TOBY BELCH

He shall think, by the letters that thou wilt drop,that they come from my niece, and that she's inlove 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 willwork with him. I will plant you two, and let thefool make a third, where he shall find the letter:observe his construction of it. For this night, tobed, and dream on the event. Farewell.

SIR TOBY BELCH

Good night, Penthesilea.

SIR ANDREW

Before me, she's a good wench.

SIR TOBY BELCH

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

SIR ANDREW

I was adored once too.

SIR TOBY BELCH

Let's to bed, knight. Thou hadst need send formore money.

SIR ANDREW

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

SIR TOBY BELCH

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

SIR ANDREW

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

SIR TOBY BELCH

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