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Do you know what you say?
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MARIA.
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La you, an you speak ill of the devil, how he takes it at
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heart! Pray God he be not bewitched.
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FABIAN.
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Carry his water to the wise woman.
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MARIA.
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Marry, and it shall be done to-morrow morning, if I live. My
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lady would not lose him for more than I'll say.
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MALVOLIO.
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How now, mistress!
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MARIA.
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O lord!
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SIR TOBY.
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Pr'ythee hold thy peace; this is not the way. Do you not
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see you move him? let me alone with him.
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FABIAN.
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No way but gentleness; gently, gently: the fiend is rough,
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and will not be roughly used.
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SIR TOBY.
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Why, how now, my bawcock? how dost thou, chuck.
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MALVOLIO.
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Sir?
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SIR TOBY.
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Ay, Biddy, come with me. What, man! 'tis not for gravity
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to play at cherry-pit with Satan. Hang him, foul collier!
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MARIA.
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Get him to say his prayers; good Sir Toby, get him to pray.
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MALVOLIO.
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My prayers, minx?
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MARIA.
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No, I warrant you, he will not hear of godliness.
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MALVOLIO.
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Go, hang yourselves all! you are idle shallow things: I
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am not of your element; you shall know more hereafter.
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[Exit.]
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SIR TOBY.
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Is't possible?
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FABIAN.
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If this were played upon a stage now, I could condemn it as
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an improbable fiction.
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SIR TOBY.
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His very genius hath taken the infection of the device, man.
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MARIA.
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Nay, pursue him now; lest the device take air and taint.
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FABIAN.
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Why, we shall make him mad indeed.
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MARIA.
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The house will be the quieter.
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SIR TOBY.
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Come, we'll have him in a dark room and bound. My niece
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is already in the belief that he's mad; we may carry it thus, for
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our pleasure and his penance, till our very pastime, tired out of
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breath, prompt us to have mercy on him: at which time we will
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bring the device to the bar, and crown thee for a finder of
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madmen. But see, but see.
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[Enter SIR ANDREW AGUE-CHEEK.]
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FABIAN.
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More matter for a May morning.
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SIR ANDREW.
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Here's the challenge, read it; I warrant there's vinegar and
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pepper in't.
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FABIAN.
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Is't so saucy?
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SIR ANDREW.
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Ay, is't, I warrant him; do but read.
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SIR TOBY.
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Give me. [Reads.] 'Youth, whatsoever thou art, thou art but a
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scurvy fellow.'
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FABIAN.
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Good and valiant.
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