Twelfth Night; Or, What You Will

by William Shakespeare

SIR ANDREW.
'Tis not the first time I have constrain'd one to call me knave.
Begin, fool: it begins, 'Hold thy peace.'

CLOWN.
I shall never begin, if I hold my peace.

SIR ANDREW.
Good, i' faith! Come, begin.
[Catch sung.]

[Enter MARIA.]

MARIA. What a caterwauling do you keep here! If my lady have not call'd up her steward Malvolio, and bid him turn you out of doors, never trust me.

SIR TOBY.
My lady's a Cataian, we are politicians, Malvolio's a
Peg-a-Ramsey, and 'Three merry men be we.'
Am not I consanguineous? am I not of her blood? Tilly-vally;
lady! [Sings.] 'There dwelt a man in Babylon, lady, lady!'

CLOWN.
Beshrew me, the knight's in admirable fooling.

SIR ANDREW. Ay, he does well enough if he be dispos'd, and so do I too; he does it with a better grace, but I do it more natural.

SIR TOBY.
[Sings]
'O, the twelfth day of December,'—

MARIA.
For the love o' God, peace!