Sir To. Am I not consanguineous? Am I not of her blood? Tilly-valley, lady!—[Sings.]—There dwelt a man in Babylon, lady, lady!
Sir And. [Sings] 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. [Sings.] Lady,—
Sir To. Let us have another.
[They all three sing and dance.
Which is the properest day to drink?
Saturday,—Sunday,—Monday,—
Mar. For the love of heaven, peace.
Enter Malvolio, in a Gown and Cap, with a Light.
Mal. My masters, are you mad? or what are you?