him formore 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.]
SIR TOBY. Now will not I deliver his letter; for the behaviour of the young gentleman gives him out to be of good capacity and breeding; his employment between his lord and my niece confirms no less: therefore this letter, being so excellently ignorant, will breed no terror in the youth; he will find it comes from a clodpole. But, sir, I will deliver his challenge by word of mouth; set upon Aguecheek a notable report of valour; and drive the gentleman, as I know his youth will aptly receive it, into a most hideous opinion of his rage, skill, fury, and impetuosity. This will so fright them both, that they will kill one another by the look, like cockatrices.
[Re-enter OLIVIA with VIOLA.]
FABIAN. Here he comes with your niece; give them way till he take leave, and presently after him.
SIR TOBY. I will meditate the while upon some horrid message for a challenge.
[Exeunt SIR TOBY, FABIAN, and MARIA.]
OLIVIA.
I have said too much unto a heart of stone,
And laid mine honour too unchary out.
There ‘s something in me that reproves my fault;
But such a headstrong potent fault it is,
That it but mocks reproof.
