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[Enter SIR TOBY BELCH, SIR ANDREW AGUE-CHEEK, and FABIAN.]
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SIR TOBY.
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Come thy ways, Signior Fabian.
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FABIAN.
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Nay, I'll come; if I lose a scruple of this sport let me be
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boiled to death with melancholy.
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SIR TOBY.
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Wouldst thou not be glad to have the niggardly rascally
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sheep-biter come by some notable shame?
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FABIAN.
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I would exult, man; you know he brought me out o' favour
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with my lady about a bear-baiting here.
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SIR TOBY.
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To anger him we'll have the bear again; and we will fool
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him black and blue:--shall we not, Sir Andrew?
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SIR ANDREW.
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An we do not, it is pity of our lives.
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[Enter MARIA.]
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SIR TOBY.
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Here comes the little villain:--How now, my nettle of India?
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MARIA.
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Get ye all three into the box-tree: Malvolio's coming down
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this walk; he has been yonder i' the sun practising behaviour to
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his own shadow this half hour: observe him, for the love of
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mockery; for I know this letter will make a contemplative idiot
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of him. Close, in the name of jesting! [The men hide themselves.]
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Lie thou there; [Throws down a letter] for here comes the trout
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that must be caught with tickling.
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[Exit Maria.]
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[Enter MALVOLIO.]
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MALVOLIO.
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'Tis but fortune; all is fortune. Maria once told me she
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did affect me: and I have heard herself come thus near, that,
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should she fancy, it should be one of my complexion. Besides, she
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uses me with a more exalted respect than any one else that
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follows her. What should I think on't?
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SIR TOBY.
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Here's an overweening rogue!
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FABIAN.
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O, peace! Contemplation makes a rare turkey-cock of him;
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how he jets under his advanced plumes!
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SIR ANDREW.
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'Slight, I could so beat the rogue:--
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SIR TOBY.
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Peace, I say.
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MALVOLIO.
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To be Count Malvolio;--
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SIR TOBY.
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Ah, rogue!
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SIR ANDREW.
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Pistol him, pistol him.
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SIR TOBY.
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Peace, peace.
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MALVOLIO.
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There is example for't; the lady of the Strachy married
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the yeoman of the wardrobe.
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SIR ANDREW.
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Fie on him, Jezebel!
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FABIAN.
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O, peace! now he's deeply in; look how imagination blows him.
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MALVOLIO.
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Having been three months married to her, sitting in my state,--
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SIR TOBY.
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O for a stone-bow to hit him in the eye!
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MALVOLIO.
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Calling my officers about me, in my branched velvet gown;
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having come from a day-bed, where I have left Olivia sleeping.
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SIR TOBY.
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Fire and brimstone!
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FABIAN.
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O, peace, peace.
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