Twelfth Night, Act 2, Scene 3

Approach, Sir Andrew; not to be abed after midnight, is to be up betimes; and diluculo surgere, thou know’st.

Come here, Sir Andrew. Not being in bed after midnight means being up early; and diluculo surgere, you know.

Nay, by my troth, I know not; but I know to be up late is to be up late.

No, honestly, I don't know that; but I do know that being up late is being up late.

A false conclusion; I hate it as an unfilled can. To be up after midnight, and to go to bed then is early: so that to go to bed after midnight is to go to bed betimes. Does not our lives consist of the four elements?

A false conclusion; I hate it as much as an empty tankard. To be up after midnight and then go to bed is to be early: so going to bed after midnight is going to bed early. Don't our lives consist of the four elements?

Faith, so they say, but I think it rather consists of eating and drinking.

Well, so they say, but I think it consists rather of eating and drinking.

Th’art a scholar; let us therefore eat and drink. Marian, I say! a stoup of wine.

You're a scholar; so let's eat and drink. Marian, I say! A tankard of wine.

Here comes the fool, i’ faith.

Here comes the fool, truly.

How now, my hearts? Did you never see the picture of “we three”?

How are you, my dear friends? Did you never see the picture of "we three"?

Welcome, ass. Now let’s have a catch.

Welcome, donkey. Now let's have a round-song.

By my troth, the fool has an excellent breast. I had rather than forty shillings I had such a leg, and so sweet a breath to sing, as the fool has. In sooth, thou wast in very gracious fooling last night when thou spok’st of Pigrogromitus, of the Vapians passing the equinoctial of Queubus; ’twas very good, i’ faith. I sent thee sixpence for thy leman. Hadst it?

Honestly, the fool has an excellent voice. I'd give more than forty shillings to have such a leg, and such a sweet voice for singing, as the fool has. Truly, you were in very charming form last night when you talked about Pigrogromitus, and the Vapians crossing the equator of Queubus; it was very good, truly. I sent you sixpence for your sweetheart. Did you get it?

I did impeticos thy gratillity; for Malvolio’s nose is no whipstock. My lady has a white hand, and the Myrmidons are no bottle-ale houses.

I did pocket your little gratuity; for Malvolio's nose is no whip-handle. My lady has a white hand, and the Myrmidons are not cheap beer-houses.

Excellent! Why, this is the best fooling, when all is done. Now, a song.

Excellent! Why, this is the best joking of all, when everything's said. Now, a song.

Come on, there is sixpence for you. Let’s have a song.

Come on, here's sixpence for you. Let's have a song.

There’s a testril of me too: if one knight give a—

Here's a sixpenny coin from me too: if one knight gives a—

Would you have a love-song, or a song of good life?

Would you like a love song, or a song about living well?

A love-song, a love-song.

A love song, a love song.

Ay, ay. I care not for good life.

Yes, yes. I don't care for living well.

[sings.] O mistress mine, where are you roaming? O stay and hear, your true love’s coming, That can sing both high and low. Trip no further, pretty sweeting. Journeys end in lovers meeting, Every wise man’s son doth know.

[He sings.] Oh my mistress, where are you wandering? Oh stop and listen, your true love is coming, who can sing both high and low. Walk no further, pretty sweet one. Journeys end in lovers meeting, as every wise man's son knows.

Excellent good, i’ faith.

Excellently good, truly.

Good, good.

Good, good.

What is love? ’Tis not hereafter, Present mirth hath present laughter. What’s to come is still unsure. In delay there lies no plenty, Then come kiss me, sweet and twenty. Youth’s a stuff will not endure.

What is love? It isn't in the future. Present joy brings present laughter. What's to come is always uncertain. There's no abundance in delay, so come kiss me, sweet and twenty. Youth is a fabric that won't last.

A mellifluous voice, as I am true knight.

A honey-sweet voice, as I am a true knight.

A contagious breath.

A catching breath.

Very sweet and contagious, i’ faith.

Very sweet and catching, truly.

To hear by the nose, it is dulcet in contagion. But shall we make the welkin dance indeed? Shall we rouse the night-owl in a catch that will draw three souls out of one weaver? Shall we do that?

To hear it with the nose, it is sweet in its infection. But shall we really make the sky dance? Shall we wake the night owl with a round-song that will pull three souls out of a single weaver? Shall we do that?

And you love me, let’s do’t: I am dog at a catch.

If you love me, let's do it: I'm a dog at a round-song.

By’r lady, sir, and some dogs will catch well.

By Our Lady, sir, and some dogs will catch well.

Most certain. Let our catch be, “Thou knave.”

Absolutely. Let our song be "You rascal."

“Hold thy peace, thou knave” knight? I shall be constrain’d in’t to call thee knave, knight.

"Be quiet, you rascal," knight? I'll be forced in it to call you a rascal, knight.

’Tis not the first time I have constrained one to call me knave. Begin, fool; it begins “Hold thy peace.”

It's not the first time I've forced someone to call me a rascal. Begin, fool; it starts "Be quiet."

I shall never begin if I hold my peace.

I'll never begin if I keep quiet.

Good, i’ faith! Come, begin.

Good, truly! Come on, begin.

What a caterwauling do you keep here! If my lady have not called up her steward Malvolio, and bid him turn you out of doors, never trust me.

What a howling you're keeping up in here! If my lady hasn't woken her steward Malvolio and told him to throw you out of the house, never trust me again.

My lady’s a Cataian, we are politicians, Malvolio’s a Peg-a-Ramsey, and [Sings.] Three merry men be we. Am not I consanguineous? Am I not of her blood? Tilly-vally! “Lady”! There dwelt a man in Babylon, Lady, Lady.

My lady's a Cataian, we are statesmen, Malvolio's a Peg-a-Ramsey, and [He sings.] Three merry men are we. Am I not related to her by blood? Am I not of her family? Nonsense! "Lady"! There lived a man in Babylon, Lady, Lady.

Beshrew me, the knight’s in admirable fooling.

Curse me, the knight is in admirable joking form.

Ay, he does well enough if he be disposed, and so do I too; he does it with a better grace, but I do it more natural.

Yes, he does it well enough when he's in the mood, and so do I; he does it with better style, but I do it more naturally.

[Sings.] O’ the twelfth day of December—

[He sings.] On the twelfth day of December—

For the love o’ God, peace!

For the love of God, be quiet!

My masters, are you mad? Or what are you? Have you no wit, manners, nor honesty, but to gabble like tinkers at this time of night? Do ye make an ale-house of my lady’s house, that ye squeak out your coziers’ catches without any mitigation or remorse of voice? Is there no respect of place, persons, nor time, in you?

Gentlemen, are you mad? Or what are you? Have you no sense, no manners, no decency, that you jabber like tinkers at this hour of the night? Do you turn my lady's house into a beer house, screeching out your cobblers' songs without softening or holding back your voices? Is there no respect for place, for people, or for time in you?

We did keep time, sir, in our catches. Sneck up!

We did keep time, sir, in our songs. Go hang yourself!

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 misdemeanours, you are welcome to the house; if not, and it would please you to take leave of her, she is very willing to bid you farewell.

Sir Toby, I must be blunt with you. My lady told me to tell you that, although she shelters you as her relative, she is in no way connected with your disorderly behaviour. If you can separate yourself from your misbehaviour, you are welcome in the house; if not, and you'd care to say goodbye to her, she is very willing to bid you farewell.

[Sings.] Farewell, dear heart, since I must needs be gone.

[He sings.] Farewell, dear heart, since I must go.

Nay, good Sir Toby.

No, good Sir Toby.

[Sings.] His eyes do show his days are almost done.

[He sings.] His eyes show that his days are almost over.

Is’t even so?

Is it really like that?

[Sings.] But I will never die.

[He sings.] But I will never die.

[Sings.] Sir Toby, there you lie.

[He sings.] Sir Toby, there you're lying.

This is much credit to you.

This does you a lot of credit.

[Sings.] Shall I bid him go?

[He sings.] Shall I tell him to go?

[Sings.] What and if you do?

[He sings.] And what if you do?

[Sings.] Shall I bid him go, and spare not?

[He sings.] Shall I tell him to go, and not hold back?

[Sings.] O, no, no, no, no, you dare not.

[He sings.] Oh, no, no, no, no, you don't dare.

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?

Out of tune? Sir, you're lying. Are you anything more than a steward? Do you think that because you're virtuous there will be no more cakes and ale?

Yes, by Saint Anne, and ginger shall be hot i’ the mouth too.

Yes, by Saint Anne, and ginger will still be hot in the mouth too.

Th’art i’ the right. Go, sir, rub your chain with crumbs. A stoup of wine, Maria!

You're right. Go away, sir, and polish your steward's chain with breadcrumbs. A tankard of wine, Maria!

Mistress Mary, if you prized my lady’s favour at anything more than contempt, you would not give means for this uncivil rule; she shall know of it, by this hand.

Mistress Mary, if you valued my lady's good opinion at anything better than contempt, you wouldn't supply the means for this rowdy behaviour. She'll hear about it, I swear by this hand.

Go shake your ears.

Go and shake your ears.

’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.

It would be as good a deed as drinking when a man is hungry, to challenge him to a duel, and then break the promise and make a fool of him.

Do’t, knight. I’ll write thee a challenge; or I’ll deliver thy indignation to him by word of mouth.

Do it, knight. I'll write you a challenge; or I'll deliver your outrage to him by word of mouth.

Sweet Sir Toby, be patient for tonight. Since the youth of the Count’s was today with my 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.

Sweet Sir Toby, be patient for tonight. Ever since the Count's young man was here with my lady today, she has been very unsettled. As for Monsieur Malvolio, leave him to me. If I don't trick him into becoming a byword and a public laughing-stock, don't believe I have enough sense to lie straight in my bed. I know I can do it.

Possess us, possess us, tell us something of him.

Fill us in, fill us in, tell us something about him.

Marry, sir, sometimes he is a kind of Puritan.

Why, sir, sometimes he's a sort of Puritan.

O, if I thought that, I’d beat him like a dog.

Oh, if I thought that, I'd beat him like a dog.

What, for being a Puritan? Thy exquisite reason, dear knight?

What, for being a Puritan? What's your excellent reason, dear knight?

I have no exquisite reason for’t, but I have reason good enough.

I have no excellent reason for it, but I have reason good enough.

The devil a Puritan that he is, or anything 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.

He's no more a Puritan than the devil is, or anything else consistently, but a time-server, an affected fool who memorises dignified speech without a book and then spouts it out in great swathes; with the highest opinion of himself, so stuffed (as he thinks) with fine qualities that it's an article of his faith that everyone who looks at him loves him. And that vice in him is what will give my revenge excellent material to work on.

What wilt thou do?

What will you do?

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.

I'll drop some mysterious love letters in his path, in which, by the colour of his beard, the shape of his leg, the way he walks, the look of his eye, forehead, and complexion, he'll find himself described to the life. I can write very much like my lady your niece; with something we'd forgotten writing, we can hardly tell our two hands apart.

Excellent! I smell a device.

Excellent! I smell a scheme.

I have’t in my nose too.

I have it in my nose too.

He shall think, by the letters that thou wilt drop, that they come from my niece, and that she is in love with him.

He'll think, from the letters you drop, that they come from my niece, and that she's in love with him.

My purpose is indeed a horse of that colour.

My plan is indeed a horse of that colour.

And your horse now would make him an ass.

And your horse would now make him an ass.

Ass, I doubt not.

An ass, I have no doubt.

O ’twill be admirable!

Oh, it will be wonderful!

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.

Royal fun, I promise you. I know my medicine will work on him. I'll station you two, and let the fool make a third, where he'll find the letter. Watch how he interprets it. For tonight, off to bed, and dream about what's coming. Goodbye.

Good night, Penthesilea.

Good night, Penthesilea.

Before me, she’s a good wench.

On my soul, she's a fine girl.

She’s a beagle true bred, and one that adores me. What o’ that?

She's a thoroughbred beagle, and one who adores me. What of that?

I was adored once too.

I was adored once too.

Let’s to bed, knight. Thou hadst need send for more money.

Let's go to bed, knight. You'll need to send for more money.

If I cannot recover your niece, I am a foul way out.

If I can't win your niece, I'm badly out of pocket.

Send for money, knight; if thou hast her not i’ th’ end, call me cut.

Send for money, knight; if you don't have her in the end, call me a gelding.

If I do not, never trust me, take it how you will.

If I don't, never trust me again, take it however you like.

Come, come, I’ll go burn some sack, ’tis too late to go to bed now. Come, knight, come, knight.

Come on, come on, I'll go and heat up some sack; it's too late to go to bed now. Come, knight, come, knight.