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第11章 Exit SCENE III. OLIVIA's house.(2)

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.' MARIA Nay, good Sir Toby. Clown 'His eyes do show his days are almost done.' MALVOLIO Is't even so? SIR TOBY BELCH 'But I will never die.' Clown Sir Toby, there you lie. MALVOLIO This is much credit to you. SIR TOBY BELCH 'Shall I bid him go?' Clown 'What an if you do?' SIR TOBY BELCH 'Shall I bid him go, and spare not?' Clown '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? Clown 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! MALVOLIO Mistress Mary, if you prized my lady's favour at any thing more than contempt, you would not give means for this uncivil rule: she shall know of it, by this hand.

Exit MARIA Go shake your ears. SIR ANDREW '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. MARIA Marry, sir, sometimes he is a kind of puritan. SIR ANDREW 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? SIR ANDREW I have no exquisite reason for't, but I have reason good enough. 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 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 My purpose is, indeed, a horse of that colour. SIR ANDREW And your horse now would make him an ass. MARIA Ass, I doubt not. SIR ANDREW O, 'twill be admirable! 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.

Exit SIR TOBY BELCH Good night, Penthesilea. SIR ANDREW 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 I was adored once too. SIR TOBY BELCH Let's to bed, knight. Thou hadst need send for more money. SIR ANDREW 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 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.

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