_Clo._ I did impeticos thy gratillity; for Malvolio's nose 25 is no whipstock: my lady has a white hand, and the Myrmidons are no bottle-ale houses.
_Sir And._ Excellent! why, this is the best fooling, when all is done. Now, a song.
_Sir To._ Come on; there is sixpence for you: let's have 30 a song.
_Sir And._ There's a testril of me too: if one knight give a--
_Clo._ Would you have a love-song, or a song of good life? 35
_Sir And._ Ay, ay: I care not for good life.
O mistress mine, where are you roaming? O, stay and hear; your true love's coming, That can sing both high and low: 40 Trip no further, pretty sweeting; Journeys end in lovers meeting, Every wise man's son doth know.
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, 50 Youth's a stuff will not endure.
_Sir And._ A mellifluous voice, as I am true knight.
_Sir And._ Very sweet and contagious, i'faith.
_Sir To._ To hear by the nose, it is dulcet in contagion. 55 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?
_Sir And._ An you love me, let's do't: I am dog at a catch. 60
_Clo._ By'r lady, sir, and some dogs will catch well.
_Sir And._ Most certain. Let our catch be, 'Thou knave.'
_Clo._ 'Hold thy peace, thou knave,' knight? I shall be constrained in't to call thee knave, knight. 65
_Sir And._ 'Tis not the first time I have constrained one to call me knave. Begin, fool: it begins 'Hold thy peace.'
_Clo._ I shall never begin if I hold my peace.
_Sir And._ Good, i'faith. Come, begin. [_Catch sung._
_Mar._ What a caterwauling do you keep here! If my 70 lady have not called up her steward Malvolio and bid him turn you out of doors, never trust me.
_Sir To._ My lady's a Cataian, we are politicians, Malvolio's a Peg-a-Ramsey, and 'Three merry men be we.' Am not I consanguineous? am I not of her blood? Tillyvally. 75 Lady! [_Sings_] 'There dwelt a man in Babylon, lady, lady!'
_Clo._ Beshrew me, the knight's in admirable fooling.
_Sir And._ 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. 80