Twelfth Night

Act 3, Scene 2

Enter SIR TOBY BELCH, SIR ANDREW, and FABIAN

SIR TOBY BELCH, SIR ANDREW, and FABIAN enter.

SIR ANDREW

No, faith, I’ll not stay a jot longer.

SIR ANDREW

No, I won’t stay a second longer.

SIR TOBY BELCH

Thy reason, dear venom, give thy reason.

SIR TOBY BELCH

Why are you leaving, my angry friend?

FABIAN

You must needs yield your reason, Sir Andrew.

FABIAN

Yes, you have to tell us why, Sir Andrew.

SIR ANDREW

Marry, I saw your niece do more favors to the Count’s servingman than ever she bestowed upon me. I saw ’t i’ the orchard.

SIR ANDREW

Well, because I saw your niece Olivia treat the count’s messenger better than she’s ever treated me. I saw it in the orchard.

SIR TOBY BELCH

Did she see thee the while, old boy? Tell me that.

SIR TOBY BELCH

Did she see you there the whole time, old boy? Tell me that.

SIR ANDREW

As plain as I see you now.

SIR ANDREW

Yes, she saw me quite clearly.

FABIAN

This was a great argument of love in her toward you.

FABIAN

Well, that proves she’s in love with you.

SIR ANDREW

’Slight, will you make an ass o’ me?

SIR ANDREW

Are you trying to make fun of me?

FABIAN

I will prove it legitimate, sir, upon the oaths of judgment and reason.

FABIAN

No, I’ll prove it with airtight evidence and logical argument.

SIR TOBY BELCH

And they have been grand-jurymen since before Noah was a sailor.

SIR TOBY BELCH

And you can’t deny evidence and argument—They’ve been around since Noah’s ark.

FABIAN

She did show favor to the youth in your sight only to exasperate you, to awake your dormouse valor, 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 banged the youth into dumbness. This was looked for at your hand, and this was balked. The double gilt of this opportunity you let time wash off, and you are now sailed into the north of my lady’s opinion, where you will hang like an icicle on a Dutchman’s beard, unless you do redeem it by some laudable attempt either of valor or policy.

FABIAN

She flirted with the messenger boy to exasperate you, fire up your passions, and make you angry and jealous. You should have run up to her, unleashed a few excellent quips invented on the spot, and rendered the young man speechless. That’s what she was expecting, and you let her down. You wasted a golden opportunity, and now my lady thinks badly of you. You can only raise her opinion of you with some impressive act of courage or complicated intrigue.

SIR ANDREW

An ’t be any way, it must be with valor, for policy I hate. I had as lief be a Brownist as a politician.

SIR ANDREW

I’ll have to do something courageous then, because I hate intrigue. I’d rather be a heretic than a schemer with fancy plots.

SIR TOBY BELCH

Why, then, build me thy fortunes upon the basis of valor. 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 valor.

SIR TOBY BELCH

Well then, improve your situation with a show of courage. Challenge the count’s young servant to a fight. Hurt him in eleven different places. My niece Olivia will notice, and let me tell you, no matchmaker in the world can get you a woman faster than a reputation for courage.

FABIAN

There is no way but this, Sir Andrew.

FABIAN

It’s really the only way, Sir Andrew.

SIR ANDREW

Will either of you bear me a challenge to him?

SIR ANDREW

Will either of you give him the message that I’m challenging him to a duel?

SIR TOBY BELCH

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”-est 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 TOBY BELCH

Go ahead and write it down. Make your handwriting look like a soldier’s. Be pointed and brief. It doesn’t need to be witty as long as it’s eloquent and imaginative. Taunt him as much as you want, since you’re only doing it in writing. It’s fine if you refer to him as “thou” instead of “you.” Write down as many lies as you can fit on a sheet of paper. Go ahead, get on with it. You may be using an ordinary pen, but you can fill it with poison ink. Now get busy.

SIR ANDREW

Where shall I find you?

SIR ANDREW

Where will I find you when I’ve finished it?

SIR TOBY BELCH

We’ll call thee at the cubiculo. Go.

SIR TOBY BELCH

We’ll come find you in the bedroom. Go on.

Exit SIR ANDREW

SIR ANDREW exits.

FABIAN

This is a dear manikin to you, Sir Toby.

FABIAN

This precious little guy is putty in your hands, Sir Toby.

SIR TOBY BELCH

I have been dear to him, lad, some two thousand strong, or so.

SIR TOBY BELCH

He must like me, since he’s let me spend two thousand of his ducats.

FABIAN

We shall have a rare letter from him: but you’ll not deliver ’t?

FABIAN

His letter’s going to be hilarious. But you’re not going to deliver it, are you?

SIR TOBY BELCH

Never trust me, then. And by all means stir on the youth to an answer. I think oxen and wainropes cannot hale them together. For Andrew, if he were opened and you find so much blood in his liver as will clog the foot of a flea, I’ll eat the rest of the anatomy.

SIR TOBY BELCH

Never trust me again if I don’t. And by all means see if you can get the young man to answer it. I don’t think a team of oxen could get them close enough to fight. If you dissected Andrew and found enough red blood in his liver for a flea to eat, then I’d eat the rest of his corpse. He’s a coward.

FABIAN

And his opposite, the youth, bears in his visage no great presage of cruelty.

FABIAN

And his opponent, the young messenger, doesn’t look like he’d be very aggressive in a fight.

Enter MARIA

MARIA enters.

SIR TOBY BELCH

Look where the youngest wren of nine comes.

SIR TOBY BELCH

Here comes my little bird.

MARIA

If you desire the spleen, and will laugh yourself into stitches, follow me. Yond gull Malvolio is turned heathen, a very renegado. For there is no Christian that means to be saved by believing rightly can ever believe such impossible passages of grossness. He’s in yellow stockings.

MARIA

Listen, if you want a good laugh—and I mean a side-splitting one—then follow me. That gullible idiot Malvolio must have renounced Christianity, since no Christian could do such outrageous things as he’s doing. He’s wearing yellow stockings.

SIR TOBY BELCH

And cross-gartered?

SIR TOBY BELCH

With crisscrossed laces?

MARIA

Most villanously, like a pedant that keeps a school i’ the church. I have dogged him, like his murderer. He does obey every point of the letter that I dropped 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 ’tis. 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 favor.

MARIA

Oh, he looks like a pathetic Sunday school teacher. I’ve stalked him like a murderer, and he’s done everything the letter told him to. He smiles so much his face has more lines in it than a map of the East Indies. You’ve never seen anything like it. I can hardly keep myself from throwing things at him. I know that my lady’s going to end up hitting him. And when she does, he’ll imagine she’s flirting with him.

SIR TOBY BELCH

Come, bring us, bring us where he is.

SIR TOBY BELCH

Come on, take us to him.

Exeunt

They all exit.