Speeches (Lines) for Sir Toby Belch in "Twelfth Night; or, What You Will"

Viola. I thank thee: lead me on.

Sir Toby Belch. What a plague means my niece, to take the death of
her brother thus? I am sure care's an enemy to life.

Maria. By my troth, Sir Toby, you must come in earlier o'
nights: your cousin, my lady, takes great
exceptions to your ill hours.

Sir Toby Belch. Why, let her except, before excepted.

Maria. Ay, but you must confine yourself within the modest
limits of order.

Sir Toby Belch. Confine! I'll confine myself no finer than I am:
these clothes are good enough to drink in; and so be
these boots too: an they be not, let them hang
themselves in their own straps.

Maria. That quaffing and drinking will undo you: I heard
my lady talk of it yesterday; and of a foolish
knight that you brought in one night here to be her wooer.

Sir Toby Belch. Who, Sir Andrew Aguecheek?

Maria. Ay, he.

Sir Toby Belch. He's as tall a man as any's in Illyria.

Maria. What's that to the purpose?

Sir Toby Belch. Why, he has three thousand ducats a year.

Maria. Ay, but he'll have but a year in all these ducats:
he's a very fool and a prodigal.

Sir Toby Belch. Fie, that you'll say so! he plays o' the
viol-de-gamboys, and speaks three or four languages
word for word without book, and hath all the good
gifts of nature.

Maria. He hath indeed, almost natural: for besides that
he's a fool, he's a great quarreller: and but that
he hath the gift of a coward to allay the gust he
hath in quarrelling, 'tis thought among the prudent
he would quickly have the gift of a grave.

Sir Toby Belch. By this hand, they are scoundrels and subtractors
that say so of him. Who are they?

Maria. They that add, moreover, he's drunk nightly in your company.

Sir Toby Belch. With drinking healths to my niece: I'll drink to
her as long as there is a passage in my throat and
drink in Illyria: he's a coward and a coystrill
that will not drink to my niece till his brains turn
o' the toe like a parish-top. What, wench!
Castiliano vulgo! for here comes Sir Andrew Agueface.

Sir Andrew Aguecheek. Sir Toby Belch! how now, Sir Toby Belch!

Sir Toby Belch. Sweet Sir Andrew!

Maria. And you too, sir.

Sir Toby Belch. Accost, Sir Andrew, accost.

Sir Andrew Aguecheek. What's that?

Sir Toby Belch. My niece's chambermaid.

Sir Andrew Aguecheek. Good Mistress Mary Accost,--

Sir Toby Belch. You mistake, knight; 'accost' is front her, board
her, woo her, assail her.

Maria. Fare you well, gentlemen.

Sir Toby Belch. An thou let part so, Sir Andrew, would thou mightst
never draw sword again.

Maria. Ay, sir, I have them at my fingers' ends: marry,
now I let go your hand, I am barren.

Sir Toby Belch. O knight thou lackest a cup of canary: when did I
see thee so put down?

Sir Andrew Aguecheek. Never in your life, I think; unless you see canary
put me down. Methinks sometimes I have no more wit
than a Christian or an ordinary man has: but I am a
great eater of beef and I believe that does harm to my wit.

Sir Toby Belch. No question.

Sir Andrew Aguecheek. An I thought that, I'ld forswear it. I'll ride home
to-morrow, Sir Toby.

Sir Toby Belch. Pourquoi, my dear knight?

Sir Andrew Aguecheek. What is 'Pourquoi'? do or not do? I would I had
bestowed that time in the tongues that I have in
fencing, dancing and bear-baiting: O, had I but
followed the arts!

Sir Toby Belch. Then hadst thou had an excellent head of hair.

Sir Andrew Aguecheek. Why, would that have mended my hair?

Sir Toby Belch. Past question; for thou seest it will not curl by nature.

Sir Andrew Aguecheek. But it becomes me well enough, does't not?

Sir Toby Belch. Excellent; it hangs like flax on a distaff; and I
hope to see a housewife take thee between her legs
and spin it off.

Sir Andrew Aguecheek. Faith, I'll home to-morrow, Sir Toby: your niece
will not be seen; or if she be, it's four to one
she'll none of me: the count himself here hard by woos her.

Sir Toby Belch. She'll none o' the count: she'll not match above
her degree, neither in estate, years, nor wit; I
have heard her swear't. Tut, there's life in't,
man.

Sir Andrew Aguecheek. I'll stay a month longer. I am a fellow o' the
strangest mind i' the world; I delight in masques
and revels sometimes altogether.

Sir Toby Belch. Art thou good at these kickshawses, knight?

Sir Andrew Aguecheek. As any man in Illyria, whatsoever he be, under the
degree of my betters; and yet I will not compare
with an old man.

Sir Toby Belch. What is thy excellence in a galliard, knight?

Sir Andrew Aguecheek. Faith, I can cut a caper.

Sir Toby Belch. And I can cut the mutton to't.

Sir Andrew Aguecheek. And I think I have the back-trick simply as strong
as any man in Illyria.

Sir Toby Belch. Wherefore are these things hid? wherefore have
these gifts a curtain before 'em? are they like to
take dust, like Mistress Mall's picture? why dost
thou not go to church in a galliard and come home in
a coranto? My very walk should be a jig; I would not
so much as make water but in a sink-a-pace. What
dost thou mean? Is it a world to hide virtues in?
I did think, by the excellent constitution of thy
leg, it was formed under the star of a galliard.

Sir Andrew Aguecheek. Ay, 'tis strong, and it does indifferent well in a
flame-coloured stock. Shall we set about some revels?

Sir Toby Belch. What shall we do else? were we not born under Taurus?

Sir Andrew Aguecheek. Taurus! That's sides and heart.

Sir Toby Belch. No, sir; it is legs and thighs. Let me see the
caper; ha! higher: ha, ha! excellent!

Olivia. By mine honour, half drunk. What is he at the gate, cousin?

Sir Toby Belch. A gentleman.

Olivia. A gentleman! what gentleman?

Sir Toby Belch. 'Tis a gentle man here--a plague o' these
pickle-herring! How now, sot!

Olivia. Cousin, cousin, how have you come so early by this lethargy?

Sir Toby Belch. Lechery! I defy lechery. There's one at the gate.

Olivia. Ay, marry, what is he?

Sir Toby Belch. Let him be the devil, an he will, I care not: give
me faith, say I. Well, it's all one.

Viola. I left no ring with her: what means this lady?
Fortune forbid my outside have not charm'd her!
She made good view of me; indeed, so much,
That sure methought her eyes had lost her tongue,
For she did speak in starts distractedly.
She loves me, sure; the cunning of her passion
Invites me in this churlish messenger.
None of my lord's ring! why, he sent her none.
I am the man: if it be so, as 'tis,
Poor lady, she were better love a dream.
Disguise, I see, thou art a wickedness,
Wherein the pregnant enemy does much.
How easy is it for the proper-false
In women's waxen hearts to set their forms!
Alas, our frailty is the cause, not we!
For such as we are made of, such we be.
How will this fadge? my master loves her dearly;
And I, poor monster, fond as much on him;
And she, mistaken, seems to dote on me.
What will become of this? As I am man,
My state is desperate for my master's love;
As I am woman,--now alas the day!--
What thriftless sighs shall poor Olivia breathe!
O time! thou must untangle this, not I;
It is too hard a knot for me to untie!

Sir Toby Belch. Approach, Sir Andrew: not to be abed after
midnight is to be up betimes; and 'diluculo
surgere,' thou know'st,--

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

Sir Toby Belch. A false conclusion: I hate it as an unfilled 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. Does not our life consist of the
four elements?

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

Sir Toby Belch. Thou'rt a scholar; let us therefore eat and drink.
Marian, I say! a stoup of wine!

Feste. How now, my hearts! did you never see the picture
of 'we three'?

Sir Toby Belch. Welcome, ass. Now let's have a catch.

Sir Andrew Aguecheek. Excellent! why, this is the best fooling, when all
is done. Now, a song.

Sir Toby Belch. Come on; there is sixpence for you: let's have a song.

Feste. Would you have a love-song, or a song of good life?

Sir Toby Belch. A love-song, a love-song.

Sir Andrew Aguecheek. Excellent good, i' faith.

Sir Toby Belch. Good, good.

Sir Andrew Aguecheek. A mellifluous voice, as I am true knight.

Sir Toby Belch. A contagious breath.

Sir Andrew Aguecheek. Very sweet and contagious, i' faith.

Sir Toby Belch. 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?

Maria. What a caterwauling 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 Toby Belch. My lady's a Cataian, we are politicians, Malvolio's
a Peg-a-Ramsey, and 'Three merry men be we.' Am not
I consanguineous? am I not of her blood?
Tillyvally. Lady!
[Sings]
'There dwelt a man in Babylon, lady, lady!'

Sir Andrew Aguecheek. 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 Toby Belch. [Sings] 'O, the twelfth day of December,'--

Malvolio. My masters, are you mad? or what are you? Have ye
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 you?

Sir Toby Belch. We did keep time, sir, in our catches. Sneck up!

Malvolio. 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 Toby Belch. 'Farewell, dear heart, since I must needs be gone.'

Malvolio. Is't even so?

Sir Toby Belch. 'But I will never die.'

Malvolio. This is much credit to you.

Sir Toby Belch. 'Shall I bid him go?'

Feste. 'What an if you do?'

Sir Toby Belch. 'Shall I bid him go, and spare not?'

Feste. 'O no, no, no, no, you dare not.'

Sir Toby Belch. Out o' tune, sir: ye lie. Art any more than a
steward? Dost thou think, because thou art
virtuous, there shall be no more cakes and ale?

Feste. Yes, by Saint Anne, and ginger shall be hot i' the
mouth too.

Sir Toby Belch. Thou'rt i' the right. Go, sir, rub your chain with
crumbs. A stoup of wine, Maria!

Sir Andrew Aguecheek. 'Twere as good a deed as to drink when a man's
a-hungry, to challenge him the field, and then to
break promise with him and make a fool of him.

Sir Toby Belch. 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 thy 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 Belch. Possess us, possess us; tell us something of him.

Sir Andrew Aguecheek. O, if I thought that I'ld beat him like a dog!

Sir Toby Belch. What, for being a puritan? thy exquisite reason,
dear knight?

Maria. The devil a puritan that he is, or any thing
constantly, but a time-pleaser; an affectioned 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 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 Belch. 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 Belch. Excellent! I smell a device.

Sir Andrew Aguecheek. I have't in my nose too.

Sir Toby Belch. 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. 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.

Sir Toby Belch. Good night, Penthesilea.

Sir Andrew Aguecheek. Before me, she's a good wench.

Sir Toby Belch. She's a beagle, true-bred, and one that adores me:
what o' that?

Sir Andrew Aguecheek. I was adored once too.

Sir Toby Belch. Let's to bed, knight. Thou hadst need send for
more money.

Sir Andrew Aguecheek. If I cannot recover your niece, I am a foul way out.

Sir Toby Belch. Send for money, knight: if thou hast her not i'
the end, call me cut.

Sir Andrew Aguecheek. If I do not, never trust me, take it how you will.

Sir Toby Belch. Come, come, I'll go burn some sack; 'tis too late
to go to bed now: come, knight; come, knight.

Orsino. Ay, that's the theme.
To her in haste; give her this jewel; say,
My love can give no place, bide no denay.

Sir Toby Belch. Come thy ways, Signior Fabian.

Fabian. Nay, I'll come: if I lose a scruple of this sport,
let me be boiled to death with melancholy.

Sir Toby Belch. Wouldst thou not be glad to have the niggardly
rascally sheep-biter come by some notable shame?

Fabian. I would exult, man: you know, he brought me out o'
favour with my lady about a bear-baiting here.

Sir Toby Belch. To anger him we'll have the bear again; and we will
fool him black and blue: shall we not, Sir Andrew?

Sir Andrew Aguecheek. An we do not, it is pity of our lives.

Sir Toby Belch. Here comes the little villain.
[Enter MARIA]
How now, my metal of India!

Malvolio. 'Tis but fortune; all is fortune. Maria once told
me she did affect me: and I have heard herself come
thus near, that, should she fancy, it should be one
of my complexion. Besides, she uses me with a more
exalted respect than any one else that follows her.
What should I think on't?

Sir Toby Belch. Here's an overweening rogue!

Sir Andrew Aguecheek. 'Slight, I could so beat the rogue!

Sir Toby Belch. Peace, I say.

Malvolio. To be Count Malvolio!

Sir Toby Belch. Ah, rogue!

Sir Andrew Aguecheek. Pistol him, pistol him.

Sir Toby Belch. Peace, peace!

Malvolio. Having been three months married to her, sitting in
my state,--

Sir Toby Belch. O, for a stone-bow, to hit him in the eye!

Malvolio. Calling my officers about me, in my branched velvet
gown; having come from a day-bed, where I have left
Olivia sleeping,--

Sir Toby Belch. Fire and brimstone!

Malvolio. And then to have the humour of state; and after a
demure travel of regard, telling them I know my
place as I would they should do theirs, to for my
kinsman Toby,--

Sir Toby Belch. Bolts and shackles!

Malvolio. Seven of my people, with an obedient start, make
out for him: I frown the while; and perchance wind
up watch, or play with my--some rich jewel. Toby
approaches; courtesies there to me,--

Sir Toby Belch. Shall this fellow live?

Malvolio. I extend my hand to him thus, quenching my familiar
smile with an austere regard of control,--

Sir Toby Belch. And does not Toby take you a blow o' the lips then?

Malvolio. Saying, 'Cousin Toby, my fortunes having cast me on
your niece give me this prerogative of speech,'--

Sir Toby Belch. What, what?

Malvolio. 'You must amend your drunkenness.'

Sir Toby Belch. Out, scab!

Fabian. Now is the woodcock near the gin.

Sir Toby Belch. O, peace! and the spirit of humour intimate reading
aloud to him!

Malvolio. [Reads]
Jove knows I love: But who?
Lips, do not move;
No man must know.
'No man must know.' What follows? the numbers
altered! 'No man must know:' if this should be
thee, Malvolio?

Sir Toby Belch. Marry, hang thee, brock!

Fabian. A fustian riddle!

Sir Toby Belch. Excellent wench, say I.

Fabian. What dish o' poison has she dressed him!

Sir Toby Belch. And with what wing the staniel cheques at it!

Malvolio. 'I may command where I adore.' Why, she may command
me: I serve her; she is my lady. Why, this is
evident to any formal capacity; there is no
obstruction in this: and the end,--what should
that alphabetical position portend? If I could make
that resemble something in me,--Softly! M, O, A,
I,--

Sir Toby Belch. O, ay, make up that: he is now at a cold scent.

Fabian. And O shall end, I hope.

Sir Toby Belch. Ay, or I'll cudgel him, and make him cry O!

Fabian. I will not give my part of this sport for a pension
of thousands to be paid from the Sophy.

Sir Toby Belch. I could marry this wench for this device.

Sir Andrew Aguecheek. So could I too.

Sir Toby Belch. And ask no other dowry with her but such another jest.

Fabian. Here comes my noble gull-catcher.

Sir Toby Belch. Wilt thou set thy foot o' my neck?

Sir Andrew Aguecheek. Or o' mine either?

Sir Toby Belch. Shall I play my freedom at traytrip, and become thy
bond-slave?

Sir Andrew Aguecheek. I' faith, or I either?

Sir Toby Belch. Why, thou hast put him in such a dream, that when
the image of it leaves him he must run mad.

Maria. Nay, but say true; does it work upon him?

Sir Toby Belch. Like aqua-vitae with a midwife.

Maria. If you will then see the fruits of the sport, mark
his first approach before my lady: he will come to
her in yellow stockings, and 'tis a colour she
abhors, and cross-gartered, a fashion she detests;
and he will smile upon her, which will now be so
unsuitable to her disposition, being addicted to a
melancholy as she is, that it cannot but turn him
into a notable contempt. If you will see it, follow
me.

Sir Toby Belch. To the gates of Tartar, thou most excellent devil of wit!

Viola. This fellow is wise enough to play the fool;
And to do that well craves a kind of wit:
He must observe their mood on whom he jests,
The quality of persons, and the time,
And, like the haggard, cheque at every feather
That comes before his eye. This is a practise
As full of labour as a wise man's art
For folly that he wisely shows is fit;
But wise men, folly-fall'n, quite taint their wit.

Sir Toby Belch. Save you, gentleman.

Sir Andrew Aguecheek. I hope, sir, you are; and I am yours.

Sir Toby Belch. Will you encounter the house? my niece is desirous
you should enter, if your trade be to her.

Viola. I am bound to your niece, sir; I mean, she is the
list of my voyage.

Sir Toby Belch. Taste your legs, sir; put them to motion.

Viola. My legs do better understand me, sir, than I
understand what you mean by bidding me taste my legs.

Sir Toby Belch. I mean, to go, sir, to enter.

Sir Andrew Aguecheek. No, faith, I'll not stay a jot longer.

Sir Toby Belch. Thy reason, dear venom, give thy reason.

Sir Andrew Aguecheek. Marry, I saw your niece do more favours to the
count's serving-man than ever she bestowed upon me;
I saw't i' the orchard.

Sir Toby Belch. Did she see thee the while, old boy? tell me that.

Fabian. I will prove it legitimate, sir, upon the oaths of
judgment and reason.

Sir Toby Belch. And they have been grand-jury-men since before Noah
was a sailor.

Sir Andrew Aguecheek. 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 Belch. 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.

Sir Andrew Aguecheek. Will either of you bear me a challenge to him?

Sir Toby Belch. Go, write it in a martial hand; be curst and brief;
it is no matter how witty, so it be eloquent and fun
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 Aguecheek. Where shall I find you?

Sir Toby Belch. We'll call thee at the cubiculo: go.

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

Sir Toby Belch. 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 Belch. Never trust me, then; and by all means stir on the
youth to an answer. I think oxen and wainropes
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
the anatomy.

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

Sir Toby Belch. Look, where the youngest wren of nine comes.

Maria. If you desire the spleen, and will laugh yourself
into stitches, follow me. Yond 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 Belch. And cross-gartered?

Maria. Most villanously; like a pedant that keeps a school
i' the 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 Belch. Come, bring us, bring us where he is.

Malvolio. O, ho! do you come near me now? no worse man than
Sir Toby to look to me! This concurs directly with
the letter: she sends him on purpose, that I may
appear stubborn to him; for she incites me to that
in the letter. 'Cast thy humble slough,' says she;
'be opposite with a kinsman, surly with servants;
let thy tongue tang with arguments of state; put
thyself into the trick of singularity;' and
consequently sets down the manner how; as, a sad
face, a reverend carriage, a slow tongue, in the
habit of some sir of note, and so forth. I have
limed her; but it is Jove's doing, and Jove make me
thankful! And when she went away now, 'Let this
fellow be looked to:' fellow! not Malvolio, nor
after my degree, but fellow. Why, every thing
adheres together, that no dram of a scruple, no
scruple of a scruple, no obstacle, no incredulous
or unsafe circumstance--What can be said? Nothing
that can be can come between me and the full
prospect of my hopes. Well, Jove, not I, is the
doer of this, and he is to be thanked.

Sir Toby Belch. Which way is he, in the name of sanctity? If all
the devils of hell be drawn in little, and Legion
himself possessed him, yet I'll speak to him.

Malvolio. Ah, ha! does she so?

Sir Toby Belch. Go to, go to; peace, peace; we must deal gently
with him: let me alone. How do you, Malvolio? how
is't with you? What, man! defy the devil:
consider, he's an enemy to mankind.

Maria. O Lord!

Sir Toby Belch. 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 used.

Sir Toby Belch. Why, how now, my bawcock! how dost thou, chuck?

Malvolio. Sir!

Sir Toby Belch. Ay, Biddy, come with me. What, man! 'tis not for
gravity to play at cherry-pit with Satan: hang
him, foul collier!

Malvolio. Go, hang yourselves all! you are idle shallow
things: I am not of your element: you shall know
more hereafter.

Sir Toby Belch. Is't possible?

Fabian. If this were played upon a stage now, I could
condemn it as an improbable fiction.

Sir Toby Belch. His very genius hath taken the infection of the device, man.

Maria. The house will be the quieter.

Sir Toby Belch. 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.

Sir Andrew Aguecheek. Ay, is't, I warrant him: do but read.

Sir Toby Belch. Give me.
[Reads]
'Youth, whatsoever thou art, thou art but a scurvy fellow.'

Fabian. Good, and valiant.

Sir Toby Belch. [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 Belch. [Reads] 'Thou comest 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 Belch. [Reads] 'I will waylay thee going home; where if it
be thy chance to kill me,'--

Fabian. Good.

Sir Toby Belch. [Reads] 'Thou killest me like a rogue and a villain.'

Fabian. Still you keep o' the windy side of the law: good.

Sir Toby Belch. [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 Belch. Go, Sir Andrew: scout me for him at the corner the
orchard like a bum-baily: so soon as ever thou seest
him, draw; and, as thou drawest swear horrible; for
it comes to pass oft that a terrible oath, with a
swaggering accent sharply twanged off, gives manhood
more approbation than ever proof itself would have
earned him. Away!

Sir Andrew Aguecheek. Nay, let me alone for swearing.

Sir Toby Belch. Now will not I deliver his letter: for the behavior
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.

Fabian. Here he comes with your niece: give them way till
he take leave, and presently after him.

Sir Toby Belch. I will meditate the while upon some horrid message
for a challenge.

Olivia. Well, come again to-morrow: fare thee well:
A fiend like thee might bear my soul to hell.

Sir Toby Belch. Gentleman, God save thee.

Viola. And you, sir.

Sir Toby Belch. That defence thou hast, betake thee to't: of what
nature the wrongs are thou hast done him, I know
not; but thy intercepter, full of despite, bloody as
the hunter, attends thee at the orchard-end:
dismount thy tuck, be yare in thy preparation, for
thy assailant is quick, skilful and deadly.

Viola. You mistake, sir; I am sure no man hath any quarrel
to me: my remembrance is very free and clear from
any image of offence done to any man.

Sir Toby Belch. You'll find it otherwise, I assure you: therefore,
if you hold your life at any price, betake you to
your guard; for your opposite hath in him what
youth, strength, skill and wrath can furnish man withal.

Viola. I pray you, sir, what is he?

Sir Toby Belch. He is knight, dubbed with unhatched rapier and on
carpet consideration; but he is a devil in private
brawl: souls and bodies hath he divorced three; and
his incensement at this moment is so implacable,
that satisfaction can be none but by pangs of death
and sepulchre. Hob, nob, is his word; give't or take't.

Viola. I will return again into the house and desire some
conduct of the lady. I am no fighter. I have heard
of some kind of men that put quarrels purposely on
others, to taste their valour: belike this is a man
of that quirk.

Sir Toby Belch. Sir, no; his indignation derives itself out of a
very competent injury: therefore, get you on and
give him his desire. Back you shall not to the
house, unless you undertake that with me which with
as much safety you might answer him: therefore, on,
or strip your sword stark naked; for meddle you
must, that's certain, or forswear to wear iron about you.

Viola. This is as uncivil as strange. I beseech you, do me
this courteous office, as to know of the knight what
my offence to him is: it is something of my
negligence, nothing of my purpose.

Sir Toby Belch. I will do so. Signior Fabian, stay you by this
gentleman till my return.

Viola. I shall be much bound to you for't: I am one that
had rather go with sir priest than sir knight: I
care not who knows so much of my mettle.

Sir Toby Belch. Why, man, he's a very devil; I have not seen such a
firago. I had a pass with him, rapier, scabbard and
all, and he gives me the stuck in with such a mortal
motion, that it is inevitable; and on the answer, he
pays you as surely as your feet hit the ground they
step on. They say he has been fencer to the Sophy.

Sir Andrew Aguecheek. Pox on't, I'll not meddle with him.

Sir Toby Belch. Ay, but he will not now be pacified: Fabian can
scarce hold him yonder.

Sir Andrew Aguecheek. Plague on't, an I thought he had been valiant and so
cunning in fence, I'ld have seen him damned ere I'ld
have challenged him. Let him let the matter slip,
and I'll give him my horse, grey Capilet.

Sir Toby Belch. I'll make the motion: stand here, make a good show
on't: this shall end without the perdition of souls.
[Aside]
Marry, I'll ride your horse as well as I ride you.
[Re-enter FABIAN and VIOLA]
[To FABIAN]
I have his horse to take up the quarrel:
I have persuaded him the youth's a devil.

Fabian. He is as horribly conceited of him; and pants and
looks pale, as if a bear were at his heels.

Sir Toby Belch. [To VIOLA] There's no remedy, sir; he will fight
with you for's oath sake: marry, he hath better
bethought him of his quarrel, and he finds that now
scarce to be worth talking of: therefore draw, for
the supportance of his vow; he protests he will not hurt you.

Fabian. Give ground, if you see him furious.

Sir Toby Belch. Come, Sir Andrew, there's no remedy; the gentleman
will, for his honour's sake, have one bout with you;
he cannot by the duello avoid it: but he has
promised me, as he is a gentleman and a soldier, he
will not hurt you. Come on; to't.

Antonio. Put up your sword. If this young gentleman
Have done offence, I take the fault on me:
If you offend him, I for him defy you.

Sir Toby Belch. You, sir! why, what are you?

Antonio. One, sir, that for his love dares yet do more
Than you have heard him brag to you he will.

Sir Toby Belch. Nay, if you be an undertaker, I am for you.

Fabian. O good Sir Toby, hold! here come the officers.

Sir Toby Belch. I'll be with you anon.

Viola. Methinks his words do from such passion fly,
That he believes himself: so do not I.
Prove true, imagination, O, prove true,
That I, dear brother, be now ta'en for you!

Sir Toby Belch. Come hither, knight; come hither, Fabian: we'll
whisper o'er a couplet or two of most sage saws.

Viola. He named Sebastian: I my brother know
Yet living in my glass; even such and so
In favour was my brother, and he went
Still in this fashion, colour, ornament,
For him I imitate: O, if it prove,
Tempests are kind and salt waves fresh in love.

Sir Toby Belch. A very dishonest paltry boy, and more a coward than
a hare: his dishonesty appears in leaving his
friend here in necessity and denying him; and for
his cowardship, ask Fabian.

Sir Andrew Aguecheek. 'Slid, I'll after him again and beat him.

Sir Toby Belch. Do; cuff him soundly, but never draw thy sword.

Fabian. Come, let's see the event.

Sir Toby Belch. I dare lay any money 'twill be nothing yet.

Sebastian. Why, there's for thee, and there, and there. Are all
the people mad?

Sir Toby Belch. Hold, sir, or I'll throw your dagger o'er the house.

Feste. This will I tell my lady straight: I would not be
in some of your coats for two pence.

Sir Toby Belch. Come on, sir; hold.

Sebastian. Let go thy hand.

Sir Toby Belch. Come, sir, I will not let you go. Come, my young
soldier, put up your iron: you are well fleshed; come on.

Sebastian. I will be free from thee. What wouldst thou now? If
thou darest tempt me further, draw thy sword.

Sir Toby Belch. What, what? Nay, then I must have an ounce or two
of this malapert blood from you.

Olivia. Hold, Toby; on thy life I charge thee, hold!

Sir Toby Belch. Madam!

Feste. Well, I'll put it on, and I will dissemble myself
in't; and I would I were the first that ever
dissembled in such a gown. I am not tall enough to
become the function well, nor lean enough to be
thought a good student; but to be said an honest man
and a good housekeeper goes as fairly as to say a
careful man and a great scholar. The competitors enter.

Sir Toby Belch. Jove bless thee, master Parson.

Feste. Bonos dies, Sir Toby: for, as the old hermit of
Prague, that never saw pen and ink, very wittily
said to a niece of King Gorboduc, 'That that is is;'
so I, being Master Parson, am Master Parson; for,
what is 'that' but 'that,' and 'is' but 'is'?

Sir Toby Belch. To him, Sir Topas.

Feste. What, ho, I say! peace in this prison!

Sir Toby Belch. The knave counterfeits well; a good knave.

Feste. Out, hyperbolical fiend! how vexest thou this man!
talkest thou nothing but of ladies?

Sir Toby Belch. Well said, Master Parson.

Malvolio. Sir Topas, Sir Topas!

Sir Toby Belch. My most exquisite Sir Topas!

Maria. Thou mightst have done this without thy beard and
gown: he sees thee not.

Sir Toby Belch. To him in thine own voice, and bring me word how
thou findest him: I would we were well rid of this
knavery. If he may be conveniently delivered, I
would he were, for I am now so far in offence with
my niece that I cannot pursue with any safety this
sport to the upshot. Come by and by to my chamber.

Orsino. How now, gentleman! how is't with you?

Sir Toby Belch. That's all one: has hurt me, and there's the end
on't. Sot, didst see Dick surgeon, sot?

Feste. O, he's drunk, Sir Toby, an hour agone; his eyes
were set at eight i' the morning.

Sir Toby Belch. Then he's a rogue, and a passy measures panyn: I
hate a drunken rogue.

Sir Andrew Aguecheek. I'll help you, Sir Toby, because well be dressed together.

Sir Toby Belch. Will you help? an ass-head and a coxcomb and a
knave, a thin-faced knave, a gull!