Twelfth Night; Or, What You Will

by William Shakespeare

FABIAN.
Why, we shall make him mad indeed.

MARIA.
The house will be the quieter.

SIR TOBY. Come, we 'll have him in a dark room and bound. My niece is already in the belief that he 's mad: we may carry it thus, for our pleasure and his penance, till our very pastime, tired out of breath, prompt us to have mercy on him; at which time we will bring the device to the bar, and crown thee for a finder of madmen. But see, but see.

[Enter SIR ANDREW.]

FABIAN.
More matter for a May morning.

SIR ANDREW. Here 's the challenge, read it; I warrant there 's vinegar and pepper in 't.

FABIAN.
Is 't so saucy?

SIR ANDREW.
Ay, is 't, I warrant him; do but read.

SIR TOBY. Give me. [Reads] Youth, whatsoever thou art, thou art but a scurvy fellow.

FABIAN.
Good and valiant.