Internet Shakespeare Editions

Author: William Shakespeare
Editors: David Carnegie, Mark Houlahan
Peer Reviewed

Twelfth Night (Folio 1, 1623)

Scœna Tertia.
Enter Sir Toby, and Sir Andrew.
700To. Approach Sir Andrew: not to bee a bedde after
midnight, is to be vp betimes, and Deliculo surgere, thou
And. Nay by my troth I know not: but I know, to
be vp late, is to be vp late.
705To. A false conclusion: I hate it as an vnfill'd Canne.
To be vp after midnight, and to go to bed then is early:
so that to go to bed after midnight, is to goe to bed be-
times. Does not our liues consist of the foure Ele-
710And. Faith so they say, but I thinke it rather consists
of eating and drinking.
To. Th'art a scholler; let vs therefore eate and drinke.
Marian I say, a stoope of wine.
Enter Clowne.
715And. Heere comes the foole yfaith.
Clo. How now my harts: Did you neuer see the Pic-
ture of we three?
To. Welcome asse, now let's haue a catch.
And. By my troth the foole has an excellent breast. I
720had rather then forty shillings I had such a legge, and so
sweet a breath to sing, as the foole has. Insooth thou wast
in very gracious fooling last night, when thou spok'st of
Pigrogromitus, of the Vapians passing the Equinoctial of
Queubus: 'twas very good yfaith: I sent thee sixe pence
725for thy Lemon, hadst it?
Clo. I did impeticos thy gratillity: for Maluolios nose
is no Whip-stocke. My Lady has a white hand, and the
Mermidons are no bottle-ale houses.
An. Excellent: Why this is the best fooling, when
730all is done. Now a song.
To. Come on, there is sixe pence for you. Let's haue
a song.
An. There's a testrill of me too: if one knight giue a
Clo. Would you haue a loue-song, or a song of good
To. A loue song, a loue song.
An. I, I. I care not for good life.
Clowne sings.
O Mistris mine where are you roming:
740O stay and heare, your true loues coming,
That can sing both high and low.
Trip no further prettie sweeting.
Iourneys end in louers meeting,
Euery wise mans sonne doth know.
745An. Excellent good, ifaith.
To. Good, good.
What is loue, tis not heereafter,
Present mirth, hath present laughter:
What's to come, is still vnsure.
750In delay there lies no plentie,
Then come kisse me sweet and twentie:
Youths a stuffe will not endure.
An. A mellifluous voyce, as I am true knight.
To. A contagious breath.
755An. Very sweet, and contagious ifaith.
To. To heare by the nose, it is dulcet in contagion.
But shall we make the Welkin dance indeed? Shall wee
rowze the night-Owle in a Catch, that will drawe three
soules out of one Weauer? Shall we do that?
760And. And you loue me, let's doo't: I am dogge at a
Clo. Byrlady sir, and some dogs will catch well.
An. Most certaine: Let our Catch be, Thou Knaue.
Clo. Hold thy peace, thou Knaue knight. I shall be con-
765strain'd in't, to call thee knaue, Knight.
An. 'Tis not the first time I haue constrained one to
call me knaue. Begin foole: it begins, Hold thy peace.
Clo. I shall neuer begin if I hold my peace.
An. Good ifaith: Come begin.
Catch sung
Enter Maria.
Mar. What a catterwalling doe you keepe heere? If
my Ladie haue not call'd vp her Steward Maluolio, and
bid him turne you out of doores, neuer trust me.
To, My Lady's a Catayan, we are politicians, Maluolios
775a Peg-a-ramsie, and Three merry men be wee. Am not I
consanguinious? Am I not of her blood: tilly vally. La-
die, There dwelt a man in Babylon, Lady, Lady.
Clo. Beshrew me, the knights in admirable fooling.
An. I, he do's well enough if he be dispos'd, and so
780do I too: he does it with a better grace, but I do it more
To. O the twelfe day of December.
Mar. For the loue o'God peace.
Enter Maluolio.
785Mal. My masters are you mad? Or what are you?
Haue you no wit, manners, nor honestie, but to gabble
like Tinkers at this time of night? Do yee make an Ale-
house of my Ladies house, that ye squeak out your Cozi-
ers Catches without any mitigation or remorse of voice?
790Is there no respect of place, persons, nor time in you?
To. We did keepe time sir in our Catches. Snecke v p.
Mal. Sir Toby, I must be round with you. My Lady
bad me tell you, that though she harbors you as her kin{
man, she's nothing ally'd to your disorders. If you can
795separate your selfe and your misdemeanors, you are wel-
come to the house: if not, and it would please you to take
leaue of her, she is very willing to bid you farewell.
To. Farewell deere heart, since I must needs be gone.
Mar. Nay good Sir Toby.
800Clo. His eyes do shew his dayes are almost done.
Mal. Is't euen so?
To. But I will neuer dye.
Clo. Sir Toby there you lye.
Mal. This is much credit to you.
805To. Shall I bid him go.
Clo. What and if you do?
To. Shall I bid him go, and spare not?
Clo. O no, no, no, no, you dare not.
To. Out o'tune sir, ye lye: Art any more then a Stew-
810ard? Dost thou thinke because thou art vertuous, there
shall be no more Cakes and Ale?
Clo. Yes by S. Anne, and Ginger shall bee hotte y'th
mouth too.
To. Th'art i'th right. Goe sir, rub your Chaine with
815crums. A stope of Wine Maria.
Mal. Mistris Mary, if you priz'd my Ladies fauour
at any thing more then contempt, you would not giue
meanes for this vnciuill rule; she shall know of it by this
820Mar. Go shake your eares.
An. 'Twere as good a deede as to drink when a mans
a hungrie, to challenge him the field, and then to breake
promise with him, and make a foole of him.
To. Doo't knight, Ile write thee a Challenge: or Ile
825deliuer thy indignation to him by word of mouth.
Mar. Sweet Sir Toby be patient for to night: Since
the youth of the Counts was to day with my Lady, she is
much out of quiet. For Monsieur Maluolio, let me alone
with him: If I do not gull him into an ayword, and make
830him a common recreation, do not thinke I haue witte e-
nough to lye straight in my bed: I know I can do it.
To. Possesse vs, possesse vs, tell vs something of him.
Mar. Marrie sir, sometimes he is a kinde of Puritane.
An. O, if I thought that, Ide beate him like a dogge.
835To. What for being a Puritan, thy exquisite reason,
deere knight.
An. I haue no exquisite reason for't, but I haue reason
good enough.
Mar. The diu'll a Puritane that hee is, or any thing
840constantly but a time-pleaser, an affection'd Asse, that
cons State without booke, and vtters it by great swarths.
The best perswaded of himselfe: so cram'd (as he thinkes)
with excellencies, that it is his grounds of faith, that all
that looke on him, loue him: and on that vice in him, will
845my reuenge finde notable cause to worke.
To. What wilt thou do?
Mar. I will drop in his way some obscure Epistles of
loue, wherein by the colour of his beard, the shape of his
legge, the manner of his gate, the expressure of his eye,
850forehead, and complection, he shall finde himselfe most
feelingly personated. I can write very like my Ladie
your Neece, on a forgotten matter wee can hardly make
distinction of our hands.
To. Excellent, I smell a deuice.
855An. I hau't in my nose too.
To. He shall thinke by the Letters that thou wilt drop
that they come from my Neece, and that shee's in loue
with him.
Mar. My purpose is indeed a horse of that colour.
860An. And your horse now would make him an Asse.
Mar. Asse, I doubt not.
An. O twill be admirable.
Mar. Sport royall I warrant you: I know my Phy-
sicke will worke with him, I will plant you two, and let
865the Foole make a third, where he shall finde the Letter:
obserue his construction of it: For this night to bed, and
dreame on the euent: Farewell.
To. Good night Penthisilea.
An. Before me she's a good wench.
870To. She's a beagle true bred, and one that adores me:
what o'that?
An. I was ador'd once too.
To. Let's to bed knight: Thou hadst neede send for
more money.
875An. If I cannot recouer your Neece, I am a foule way
To. Send for money knight, if thou hast her not i'th
end, call me Cut.
An. If I do not, neuer trust me, take it how you will.
880To. Come, come, Ile go burne some Sacke, tis too late
to go to bed now: Come knight, come knight.