Act III, Scene i | SIR ANDREW: | | No, faith, I'll not stay a jot longer. |
| SIR TOBY: | | Thy reason, dear venom, give thy reason. |
| FABIAN: | | You must needs yield your reason, Sir Andrew. |
| SIR ANDREW: | | Marry, I saw your niece do more favours to the count's | | serving-man than ever she bestow'd upon me; I saw 't i' th' | | orchard. |
| SIR TOBY: | | Did she see thee the while, old boy? tell me that. |
| SIR ANDREW: | | As plain as I see you now. |
| FABIAN: | | This was a great argument of love in her toward you. |
| SIR ANDREW: | | 'Slight, will you make an ass o' me? |
| FABIAN: | | I will prove it legitimate, sir, upon the oaths of judgment and | | reason. |
| SIR TOBY: | | And they have been grand-jurymen since before Noah was a sailor. |
| FABIAN: | | She did show favour to the youth in your sight only to exasperate | | you, to awake your dormouse valour, to put fire in your heart, | | and brimstone in your liver. You should then have accosted her; | | and with some excellent jests, fire-new from the mint, you should | | have bang'd the youth into dumbness. This was look'd for at your | | hand, and this was balk'd: the double gilt of this opportunity | | you let time wash off, and you are now sail'd into the north of | | my lady's opinion; where you will hang like an icicle on | | Dutchman's beard, unless you do redeem it by some laudable | | attempt either of valour or policy. |
| SIR ANDREW: | | And'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: | | 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. |
| FABIAN: | | There is no way but this, Sir Andrew. |
| SIR ANDREW: | | Will either of you bear me a challenge to him? |
| SIR TOBY: | | Go, write it in a martial hand; be curst and brief; it is no | | matter how witty, so it be eloquent and full of invention; taunt | | him with the license 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: | | Where shall I find you? |
| SIR TOBY: | | We'll call thee at the cubiculo. Go. |
| FABIAN: | | This is a dear manakin to you, Sir Toby. |
| SIR TOBY: | | 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: | | Never trust me, then; and by all means stir on the youth to an | | answer. I think oxen and wain-ropes cannot hale them together. | | For Andrew, if he were open'd, and you find so much blood in his | | liver as will clog the foot of a flea, I'll eat the rest of th' | | anatomy. |
| FABIAN: | | And his opposite, the youth, bears in his visage no great presage | | of cruelty. |
| SIR TOBY: | | Look where the youngest wren of nine comes. |
| MARIA: | | If you desire the spleen, and will laugh yourselves into | | stitches, follow me. Yond gull Malvolio is turn'd heathen, a very | | renegado; for there is no Christian, that means to be sav'd by | | believing rightly, can ever believe such impossible passages of | | grossness. He's in yellow stockings. |
| SIR TOBY: | | And cross-garter'd? |
| MARIA: | | Most villainously; like a pedant that keeps a school i' th' | | church. I have dogg'd him, like his murderer. He does obey every | | point of the letter that I dropp'd 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 't | | is. 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: | | Come, bring us, bring us where he is. |
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