Sir To. Fare thee well; and heaven have mercy upon one of our souls! He may have mercy upon mine; but my hope is better, and so look to thyself. Thy friend, as thou usest him, and thy sworn enemy, Andrew Aguecheek.—If this letter move him not, his legs cannot: I'll give't him.
Fab. You may have very fit occasion for't; he is now in some commerce with my lady, and will by and by depart.
Sir To. Go, Sir Andrew; scout me for him at the corner of the garden, like a bum-bailiff; so soon as ever thou seest him, draw; and, as thou draw'st, swear horrible; for it comes to pass oft, that a terrible oath, with a swaggering accent sharply twang'd off, gives manhood more approbation than ever proof itself would have earned him. Away.
Sir And. Nay, let me alone for swearing.
[Exit Sir Andrew.
Sir To. Now will not I deliver his letter: for the behaviour of the young gentleman gives him out to be of good capacity and breeding; therefore this letter, being so excellently ignorant, will breed no terror in the youth, he will find it comes from a clodpole. But, sir, I will deliver his challenge by word of mouth; set upon Ague-cheek a notable report of valour; and drive the gentleman, (as, I know, his youth will aptly receive it,) into a most hideous opinion of his rage, skill, fury, and impetuosity. This will so fright them both, that they will kill one another by the look, like cockatrices.
Fab. Here he comes with your niece: give them way, till he take leave, and presently after him.
Sir To. I will meditate the while upon some horrid message for a challenge.
[Exeunt Sir Toby and Fabian.
Enter Viola and Olivia.