Twelfth Night; or, What You Will

Sir And. Nay, by my troth, I know not: but I know, to be up late, is to be up late.

Sir To. A false conclusion; I hate it as an unfill'd can: To be up after midnight, and to go to bed then, is early; so that, to go to bed after midnight, is to go to bed betimes. Do not our lives consist of the four elements?

Sir And. 'Faith, so they say; but, I think, it rather consists of eating and drinking.

Sir To. Thou art a scholar; let us therefore eat and drink. – Maria, I say! – a stoop of wine!

[The Clown sings without.

[Sir Andrew and Sir Toby rise.

Sir And. Here comes the fool, i'faith.

Enter Clown.

Clo. How now, my hearts? Did you never see the picture of we three?

Sir To. Welcome, ass.

Sir And. I had rather than forty shillings I had such a leg; and so sweet a voice to sing, as the fool has. – In sooth, thou wast in very gracious fooling last night, when thou spokest of Pigrogromitus, of the Vapians passing the equinoctial of Queubus; 'twas very good, i'faith. I sent thee sixpence for thy leman: Hadst it?

Clo. I did impeticos thy gratillity; for Malvolio's nose is no whipstock: My lady has a white hand, and the Myrmidons are no bottle ale-houses.

Sir And. Excellent! Why, this is the best fooling, when all is done. Now, a song.

Sir To. Come on: 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 dog at a catch.

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

Sir And. Begin, fool: it begins, – [Sings.] Hold thy peace.

Clo. Hold my peace! – I shall never begin, if I hold my peace.

Sir And. Good, i'faith! – Come, begin: – that, or something else, – or what you will.

[They all three sing.

Christmas comes but once a year,
And therefore we'll be merry.

Enter Maria.

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: – [Sings.] —And three merry men be we.

Sir And. [Sings.] And three merry men be we.

Sir To. Am I not consanguineous? Am I not of her blood? Tilly-valley, lady! – [Sings.] —There dwelt a man in Babylon, lady, lady!

Sir And. [Sings] Lady, —

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. [Sings.] Lady, —

Sir To. Let us have another.

[They all three sing and dance.

Which is the properest day to drink?
Saturday, – Sunday, – Monday, —

Mar. For the love of heaven, peace.

Enter Malvolio, in a Gown and Cap, with a Light.

Mal. My masters, are you mad? or what are you?

Sir And. [Sings.] Monday, —

Mal. Have you no wit, manners, nor honesty, but to gabble like tinkers at this time of night?

Sir To. [Sings.] Saturday, —

Mal. Is there no respect of place, persons, nor time, in you?

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. [Sings.] Farewell, dear heart, since I must needs be gone.

Mar. Nay, good Sir Toby.

Clo. [Sings.] His eyes do show his days are almost done.

Mal. Is't even so?

Sir To. [Sings.] But I will never die.

[Falls on the floor.

Clo. [Sings.] Sir Toby, – O, Sir Toby, – there you lie.

Mal. This is much credit to you.