[Sir Andrew and Sir Toby rise.
Sir And. Here comes the fool, i'faith.
Enter Clown.
Clo. How now, my hearts? Did you never see the picture of we three?
Sir To. Welcome, ass.
Sir And. I had rather than forty shillings I had such a leg; and so sweet a voice to sing, as the fool has.—In sooth, thou wast in very gracious fooling last night, when thou spokest of Pigrogromitus, of the Vapians passing the equinoctial of Queubus; 'twas very good, i'faith. I sent thee sixpence for thy leman: Hadst it?
Clo. 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.
Sir And. Excellent! Why, this is the best fooling, when all is done. Now, a song.
Sir To. Come on: 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.