3.2 Enter Sir Toby, Sir Andrew, and Fabian

SIR ANDREW No, faith, I’ll not stay a jot longer.

SIR TOBY Thy reason, dear venom, give thy reason.

FABIAN You must needs yield your reason, Sir Andrew.

SIR ANDREW Marry, I saw your niece do more favours to the Count’s servingman than ever she bestowed upon me. I saw’t i’th’ orchard.

SIR TOBY Did she see thee the while, old boy? Tell me that.

SIR ANDREW As plain as I see you now.

FABIAN This was a great argument of love in her toward you.

SIR ANDREW ’Slight, will you make an ass o’ me?

FABIAN I will prove it legitimate, sir, upon the oaths of judgement and reason.

SIR TOBY And they have been grand-jurymen since before Noah was a sailor.

FABIAN She did show favour to the youth in your sight only to exasperate you, to awake your dormouse valour, to put fire in your heart and brimstone in your liver. You should then have accosted her, and with some excellent jests, fire-new from the mint, you should have banged the youth into dumbness. This was looked for at your hand, and this was balked. The double gilt of this opportunity you let time wash off, and you are now sailed into the north of my lady’s opinion, where you will hang like an icicle on a Dutchman’s beard unless you do redeem it by some laudable attempt either of valour or policy.

SIR ANDREW An’t be any way, it must be with valour, for policy I hate. I had as lief be a Brownist as a politician.

SIR TOBY Why then, build me thy fortunes upon the basis of valour. Challenge me the Count’s youth to fight with him, hurt him in eleven places. My niece shall take note of it; and assure thyself, there is no love-broker in the world can more prevail in man’s commendation with woman than report of valour.

FABIAN There is no way but this, Sir Andrew.

SIR ANDREW Will either of you bear me a challenge to him?

SIR TOBY Go, write it in a martial hand, be curst and brief. It is no matter how witty so it be eloquent and full of invention. Taunt him with the licence of ink. If thou ‘thou’st’ him some thrice, it shall not be amiss, and as many lies as will lie in thy sheet of paper, although the sheet were big enough for the bed of Ware, in England, set ’em down, go about it. Let there be gall enough in thy ink; though thou write with a goose-pen, no matter. About it.

SIR ANDREW Where shall I find you?

SIR TOBY We’ll call thee at the cubiculo. Go.

Exit Sir Andrew

FABIAN This is a dear manikin to you, Sir Toby.

SIR TOBY I have been dear to him, lad, some two thousand strong or so.

FABIAN We shall have a rare letter from him; but you’ll not deliver’t.

SIR TOBY Never trust me then; and by all means stir on the youth to an answer. I think oxen and wain-ropes cannot hale them together. For Andrew, if he were opened and you find so much blood in his liver as will clog the foot of a flea, I’ll eat the rest of th’anatomy.

FABIAN And his opposite, the youth, bears in his visage no great presage of cruelty.

Enter Maria

SIR TOBY Look where the youngest wren of nine comes.

MARIA If you desire the spleen, and will laugh yourselves into stitches, follow me. Yon gull Malvolio is turned heathen, a very renegado, for there is no Christian that means to be saved by believing rightly can ever believe such impossible passages of grossness. He’s in yellow stockings.

SIR TOBY And cross-gartered?

MARIA Most villainously, like a pedant that keeps a school i‘th’ church. I have dogged him like his murderer. He does obey every point of the letter that I dropped to betray him. He does smile his face into more lines than is in the new map with the augmentation of the Indies. You have not seen such a thing as ’tis. I can hardly forbear hurling things at him. I know my lady will strike him. If she do, he’ll smile, and take’t for a great favour.

SIR TOBY Come bring us, bring us where he is. Exeunt

3.3 Enter Sebastian and Antonio

SEBASTIAN

I would not by my will have troubled you,

But since you make your pleasure of your pains

I will no further chide you.

ANTONIO

I could not stay behind you. My desire,

More sharp than filèd steel, did spur me forth,

And not all love to see you—though so much

As might have drawn one to a longer voyage—

But jealousy what might befall your travel,

Being skilless in these parts, which to a stranger,

Unguided and unfriended, often prove

Rough and unhospitable. My willing love

The rather by these arguments of fear

Set forth in your pursuit.

SEBASTIAN

My kind Antonio,

I can no other answer make but thanks,

And thanks; and ever oft good turns

Are shuffled off with such uncurrent pay.

But were my worth as is my conscience firm,

You should find better dealing. What’s to do?

Shall we go see the relics of this town?

ANTONIO

Tomorrow, sir. Best first go see your lodging.

SEBASTIAN

I am not weary, and ’tis long to night.

I pray you let us satisfy our eyes

With the memorials and the things of fame

That do renown this city.

ANTONIO

Would you’d pardon me.

I do not without danger walk these streets.

Once in a sea-fight ‘gainst the Count his galleys

I did some service, of such note indeed

That were I ta’en here it would scarce be answered.

SEBASTIAN

Belike you slew great number of his people.

ANTONIO

Th’offence is not of such a bloody nature,

Albeit the quality of the time and quarrel

Might well have given us bloody argument.

It might have since been answered in repaying

What we took from them, which for traffic’s sake

Most of our city did. Only myself stood out,

For which if I be latched in this place

I shall pay dear.

SEBASTIAN

Do not then walk too open.

ANTONIO

It doth not fit me. Hold, sir, here’s my purse.

In the south suburbs at the Elephant

Is best to lodge. I will bespeak our diet

Whiles you beguile the time and feed your knowledge

With viewing of the town. There shall you have me.

SEBASTIAN Why I your purse?

ANTONIO

Haply your eye shall light upon some toy

You have desire to purchase; and your store

I think is not for idle markets, sir.

SEBASTIAN

I’ll be your purse-bearer, and leave you

For an hour.

ANTONIO

To th’ Elephant.

SEBASTIAN