FABIAN.
I would exult, man. You know he brought me out o’ favour with my lady about a bear-baiting here.
SIR TOBY.
To anger him we’ll have the bear again, and we will fool him black and blue, shall we not, Sir Andrew?
SIR ANDREW.
And we do not, it is pity of our lives.
Enter Maria.
SIR TOBY.
Here comes the little villain. How now, my metal of India?
MARIA.
Get ye all three into the box-tree. Malvolio’s coming down this walk; he has been yonder i’ the sun practising behaviour to his own shadow this half hour: observe him, for the love of mockery; for I know this letter will make a contemplative idiot of him. Close, in the name of jesting! [The men hide themselves.] Lie thou there; [Throws down a letter] for here comes the trout that must be caught with tickling.
[Exit Maria.]
Enter Malvolio.
MALVOLIO.
’Tis but fortune, all is fortune. Maria once told me she did affect me, and I have heard herself come thus near, that should she fancy, it should be one of my complexion. Besides, she uses me with a more exalted respect than anyone else that follows her. What should I think on’t?
SIR TOBY.
Here’s an overweening rogue!