William Shakespeare: Twelfth Night

ACT II. 5. SCENE V. OLIVIA'S garden.

[Enter SIR TOBY BELCH, SIR ANDREW AGUE-CHEEK, and FABIAN.]

SIR TOBY.
Come thy ways, Signior Fabian.

FABIAN.
Nay, I'll come; if I lose a scruple of this sport let me be
boiled to death with melancholy.

SIR TOBY.
Wouldst thou not be glad to have the niggardly rascally
sheep-biter come by some notable shame?

FABIAN.
I would exult, man; you know he brought me out o' favour
with my lady about a bear-baiting here.

SIR TOBY.
To anger him we'll have the bear again; and we will fool
him black and blue:--shall we not, Sir Andrew?

SIR ANDREW.
An we do not, it is pity of our lives.

[Enter MARIA.]

SIR TOBY.
Here comes the little villain:--How now, my nettle of India?

MARIA.
Get ye all three into the box-tree: Malvolio's coming down
this walk; he has been yonder i' the sun practising behaviour to
his own shadow this half hour: observe him, for the love of
mockery; for I know this letter will make a contemplative idiot
of him. Close, in the name of jesting! [The men hide themselves.]

Lie thou there; [Throws down a letter] for here comes the trout
that must be caught with tickling.

[Exit Maria.]

[Enter MALVOLIO.]

MALVOLIO.
'Tis but fortune; all is fortune. Maria once told me she
did affect me: and I have heard herself come thus near, that,
should she fancy, it should be one of my complexion. Besides, she
uses me with a more exalted respect than any one else that
follows her. What should I think on't?

SIR TOBY.
Here's an overweening rogue!

FABIAN.
O, peace! Contemplation makes a rare turkey-cock of him;
how he jets under his advanced plumes!