Clo. By'r lady, sir, and some dogs will catch well.
Sir And. Begin, fool: it begins,—[Sings.] Hold thy peace.
Clo. Hold my peace!—I shall never begin, if I hold my peace.
Sir And. Good, i'faith!—Come, begin:—that, or something else,—or what you will.
[They all three sing.
Christmas comes but once a year,
And therefore we'll be merry.
Enter Maria.
Mar. What a catterwauling 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.
Sir To. My lady's a Cataian; we are politicians. Malvolio's a Peg-a-Ramsay:—[Sings.]—And three merry men be we.
Sir And. [Sings.] And three merry men be we.