[To Malvolio.] Art any more than a steward? Dost thou think because thou art virtuous there shall be no more cakes and ale?

CLO. Yes, by Saint Anne, and ginger shall be hot i' th' mouth too.

SIR TO. Th' art i' th' right. Go, sir, rub your chain with crumbs. A stope of wine, Maria!

MAL. Mistress Mary, if you priz'd my lady's favor at any thing more than contempt, you would not give means for this uncivil rule. She shall know of it, by this hand.

 

Exit.

 

MAR. Go shake your ears.

SIR AND. '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 TO. Do't, knight. I'll write thee a challenge, or I'll deliver thy indignation to him by word of mouth.

MAR. Sweet Sir Toby, be patient for to-night. Since the youth of the Count's was to-day with my lady, she is much out of quiet. For Monsieur Malvolio, let me alone with him. If I do not gull him into an ayword, 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 TO. Possess us, possess us, tell us something of him.

MAR. Marry, sir, sometimes he is a kind of puritan.

SIR AND. O, if I thought that, I'd beat him like a dog!

SIR TO. What, for being a puritan? Thy exquisite reason, dear knight?

SIR AND. I have no exquisite reason for't, but I have reason good enough.

MAR. The dev'l a puritan that he is, or any thing constantly but a time-pleaser, an affection'd ass, that cons state without book, and utters it by great swarths; the best persuaded of himself, so cramm'd (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 TO. What wilt thou do?

MAR. I will drop in his way some obscure epistles of love, wherein by the color 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 TO. Excellent, I smell a device.

SIR AND. I have't in my nose too.

SIR TO. He shall think by the letters that thou wilt drop that they come from my niece, and that she's in love with him.

MAR. My purpose is indeed a horse of that color.

SIR AND. And your horse now would make him an ass.

MAR.