SIR TOBY Do’t, knight. I’ll write thee a challenge, or I’ll deliver thy indignation to him by word of mouth.

MARIA Sweet Sir Toby, be patient for tonight. Since the youth of the Count’s was today with my lady she is much out of quiet. For Monsieur Malvolio, let me alone with him. If I do not gull him into a nayword and make him a common recreation, do not think I have wit enough to lie straight in my bed. I know I can do it.

SIR TOBY 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’d beat him like a dog.

SIR TOBY What, for being a puritan? Thy exquisite reason, dear knight.

SIR ANDREW I have no exquisite reason for’t, but I have reason good enough.

MARIA The dev’l a puritan that he is, or anything constantly but a time-pleaser, an affectioned ass that cons state without book and utters it by great swathes; the best persuaded of himself, so crammed, as he thinks, with excellencies, that it is his grounds of faith that all that look on him love him; and on that vice in him will my revenge find notable cause to work.

SIR TOBY What wilt thou do?

MARIA I will drop in his way some obscure epistles of love, wherein by the colour of his beard, the shape of his leg, the manner of his gait, the expressure of his eye, forehead, and complexion, he shall find himself most feelingly personated. I can write very like my lady your niece; on a forgotten matter we can hardly make distinction of our hands.

SIR TOBY Excellent, I smell a device.

SIR ANDREW I have’t in my nose too.

SIR TOBY He shall think by the letters that thou wilt drop that they come from my niece, and that she’s in love 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 will work with him. I will plant you two—and let the fool make a third—where he shall find the letter. Observe his construction of it. For this night, to bed, and dream on the event. Farewell. Exit

SIR TOBY Good night, Penthesilea.

SIR ANDREW Before me, she’s a good wench.

SIR TOBY She’s a beagle true bred, and one that adores me. What o’ that?

SIR ANDREW I was adored once, too.

SIR TOBY Let’s to bed, knight. Thou hadst need send for more money.

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

SIR TOBY Send for money, knight. If thou hast her not i’th’ end, call me cut.

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

SIR TOBY Come, come, I’ll go burn some sack, ’tis too late to go to bed now. Come knight, come knight. Exeunt

2.4 Enter the Duke, Viola as Cesario, Curio, and others

ORSINO

Give me some music. Now good morrow, friends.

Now good Cesario, but that piece of song,

That old and antic song we heard last night.

Methought it did relieve my passion much,

More than light airs and recollected terms

Of these most brisk and giddy-paced times.

Come, but one verse.

CURIO He is not here, so please your lordship, that should sing it.

ORSINO Who was it?

CURIO Feste the jester, my lord, a fool that the lady Olivia’s father took much delight in. He is about the house.

ORSINO

Seek him out, and play the tune the while. Exit Curio

Music plays

(To Viola) Come hither, boy. If ever thou shalt love,

In the sweet pangs of it remember me;

For such as I am, all true lovers are,

Unstaid and skittish in all motions else

Save in the constant image of the creature

That is beloved. How dost thou like this tune?

VIOLA

It gives a very echo to the seat

Where love is throned.

ORSINO

Thou dost speak masterly.

My life upon’t, young though thou art thine eye

Hath stayed upon some favour that it loves.

Hath it not, boy?

VIOLA

A little, by your favour.

ORSINO

What kind of woman is’t?

VIOLA

Of your complexion.

ORSINO

She is not worth thee then. What years, i’faith?

VIOLA About your years, my lord.

ORSINO

Too old, by heaven. Let still the woman take

An elder than herself. So wears she to him;

So sways she level in her husband’s heart.

For, boy, however we do praise ourselves,

Our fancies are more giddy and unfirm,

More longing, wavering, sooner lost and worn,

Than women’s are.

VIOLA

I think it well, my lord.

ORSINO

Then let thy love be younger than thyself,

Or thy affection cannot hold the bent;

For women are as roses, whose fair flower

Being once displayed, doth fall that very hour.

VIOLA

And so they are. Alas that they are so:

To die even when they to perfection grow.

Enter Curio and Feste the clown

ORSINO (to Feste)

O fellow, come, the song we had last night.

Mark it, Cesario, it is old and plain.

The spinsters, and the knitters in the sun,

And the free maids that weave their thread with

bones,

Do use to chant it. It is silly sooth,

And dallies with the innocence of love,

Like the old age.

FESTE Are you ready, sir?

ORSINO I prithee, sing.

Music

FESTE (sings)

Come away, come away death,

And in sad cypress let me be laid.

Fie away, fie away breath,

I am slain by a fair cruel maid.

My shroud of white, stuck all with yew,

O prepare it.

My part of death no one so true

Did share it.

Not a flower, not a flower sweet

On my black coffin let there be strewn.

Not a friend, not a friend greet

My poor corpse, where my bones shall be thrown.

A thousand thousand sighs to save,

Lay me O where

Sad true lover never find my grave,

To weep there.

DUKE (giving money) There’s for thy pains.

FESTE No pains, sir. I take pleasure in singing, sir.

ORSINO I’ll pay thy pleasure then.

FESTE Truly, sir, and pleasure will be paid, one time or another.