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Clo. What is love ? 'tis not hereafter ;
Present mirth hath present laughter ;
What's to come, is still unsure :
Youth's a stuff will not endure.
Sir And. A mellifluous voice, as I am true knight.
Sir To. To hear by the nose, it is dulcet in contagion. But shall we make the welkin dance' indeed ? Shall we rouse the night-owl in a catch, that will draw three souls out of one weaver ? shall we do that?
Sir And. An you love me, let's do't: I am a dog at a catch.
Clo. By'r lady, sir, and some dogs will catch well.
Clo. Hold thy peace, thou knave, knight? I shall be constrain'd in't to call thee knave, knight.
Sir And. 'Tis not the first time I have constrain'd one to call me knave. Begin, fool; it begins, Hold thy peace.
Clo. I shall never begin, if I hold my peace.
[They sing a catch.
Mar. What a catterwauling do you keep here! If my lady have not called up her steward, Malvolio, and bid him turn you out of doors, never trust me.
Sir To. My lady's a Cataian, we are politicians ; Malvolio's a Peg-a-Ramsay, and Three merry men be we. Am
make the welkin dance -] That is, drink till the sky seems to turn round.
draw three souls out of one weaver?] i. e. hale the soul out of a weaver (the warmest lover of a song) thrice over; or, in other words, give him thrice more delight than it would give another
not I consanguineous ? am not I of her blood ? Tillyvalley, lady ?! There dwelt a man in Babylon, lady, lady !
[Singing. Clo. Beshrew me, the knight's in admirable fooling.
Sir And. Ay, he does well enough, if he be disposed, and so do I too; he does it with a better grace, but I do it more natural.
Sir To. O, the twelfth day of December, [Singing. Mar. For the love o'God, peace.
Enter MALVOLIO. Mal. My masters, are you mad? or what are you? Have you no wit, manners, nor honesty, but to gabble like tinkers at this time of night? Do ye make an alehouse of my lady's house, that ye squeak out your coziers' catches without any mitigation or remorse of voice? Is there no respect of place, persons, nor time, in
Sir To. We did keep time, sir, in our catches. Sneck up! Mal. Sir Toby, I must be round with you.
My lady bade me tell you, that, though she harbours you as her kinsman, she's nothing allied to your disorders. If you can separate yourself and your misdemeanors, you are welcome to the house ; if not, an it would please you to take leave of her, she is very willing to bid you farewell.
Sir To. Farewell, dear heart, since I must needs be gone.
* Tilly-valley, lady'] Tilly-valley was an interjection of contempt; or, as Mr. Douce thinks, is a hunting phrase borrowed from the French.
coziers' catches -] A cozier is a tailor, or botcher. * Sneck up!] Mr. Malone and others observe, that from the manner in which this cant phrase is employed in our ancient comedies, it seems to have been synonymous to the modern expression-Go hang yourself. Steevens.
Mal. Is't even so ?
[Singing. Clo. What an if you do? Sir To. Shall I bid him
not ? Clo. O no, no, no, no, you dare not.
Sir To. Out o'time? sir, ye lie.--Art any more than a steward? Dost thou think, because thou art virtuous, there shall be no more cakes and ale ?
Clo. Yes, by Saint Anne; and ginger shall be hot i'the mouth too.
Sir To. Thou’rt i’the right.-Go, sir, rub your chain with crums':- A stoop of wine, Maria!
Mal. Mistress Mary, if you prized my lady's favour at any thing more than contempt, you would not give means for this uncivil rule o ; she shall know of it, by this hand.
[Exit. Mar. Go shake your ears.
Sir And. 'Twere as good a deed as to drink when a man's a hungry, to challenge him to the field; and then to break promise with him, and make a fool of him.
Sir To. Do't, knight; I'll write thee a challenge; or I'll deliver thy indignation to him by word of mouth.
Mar. Sweet sir Toby, be patient for to-night; since the youth of the count's was to-day 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.
rub your chain with crums :) Stewards anciently wore a chain, as a mark of superiority over other servants. And the best method of cleaning any gilt plate, is by rubbing it with crums.
rule ;] Rule is method of life.
Sir To. Possess us“, possess us; tell us something of him.
Mar. Marry, sir, sometimes he is a kind of Puritan. Sir And. O, if I thought that, I'd beat him like a dog.
Sir To. What, for being a Puritan ? thy exquisite reason, dear knight?
Sir And. I have no exquisite reason for't, but I have reason good enough.
Mar. The devil a Puritan that he is, or any thing constantly but a time-pleaser; an affection'd ass', that cons state without book, and utters it by great swarths': the best persuaded of himself, so crammed, as he thinks, with excellencies, that it is his ground 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 To. What wilt thou do?
Mar. 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 To. Excellent! I smell a device.
Sir To. He shall think, by the letters that thou wilt drop, that they come from my niece, and that she is in love with him.
Mar. My purpose is, indeed, a horse of that colour. Sir And. And
horse now would make him an ass, Mar. Ass, I doubt not. Sir And. O, 'twill be admirable. Mar. Sport royal, I warrant you: I know, my physick
Possess us,] That is, inform us, tell us.
an affection'd ass,] Affection'd means affected.
great swarths :) A swarth is as much grass or corn as a mower cuts down at one stroke of his scythe.
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 To. Good night, Penthesilea'. Sir And. Before me, she's a good wench.
Sir To. She's a beagle, true bred, and one that adores me; What o'that?
Sir And. I was adored once too.
Sir To. Let's to bed, knight. - Thou hadst need send for more money.
Sir And. If I cannot recover your niece, I am a foul
Sir To. Send for money, knight; if thou hast her not i'the end, call me Cut'.
Sir And. If I do not, never trust me, take it how you will.
Sir To. Come, come; I'll go burn some sack, 'tis too late to go to bed now: come, knight; come, knight.
A Room in the Duke's Palace.
Enter Duke, VIOLA, Curio, and others.
Penthesilea,] i. e. Amazon.