Twelfth Night: Act 3

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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!

MARIA
Get him to say his prayers, good Sir Toby, get him to pray.

MALVOLIO
My prayers, minx!

MARIA
No, I warrant you, he will not hear of godliness.

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

Exit

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
Nay, pursue him now, lest the device take air and taint.

FABIAN
Why, we shall make him mad indeed.

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.

Enter SIR ANDREW

FABIAN
More matter for a May morning.

SIR ANDREW
Here's the challenge, read it: warrant there's vinegar and pepper in't.

FABIAN
Is't so saucy?

SIR ANDREW
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
Nay, let me alone for swearing.

Exit

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.

Re-enter OLIVIA, with VIOLA

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.

Exeunt SIR TOBY BELCH, FABIAN, and MARIA

OLIVIA
I have said too much unto a heart of stone
And laid mine honour too unchary out:
There's something in me that reproves my fault;
But such a headstrong potent fault it is,
That it but mocks reproof.

VIOLA
With the same 'havior that your passion bears
Goes on my master's grief.

OLIVIA
Here, wear this jewel for me, 'tis my picture;
Refuse it not; it hath no tongue to vex you;
And I beseech you come again to-morrow.
What shall you ask of me that I'll deny,
That honour saved may upon asking give?

 

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