thou now? If thou darest tempt me further, draw thy sword. What, what? Nay, then I must have an ounce or two of this malapert blood from you. Hold, Toby; on thy life I charge thee, hold! Madam! Will it be ever thus? Ungracious wretch, Fit for the mountains and the barbarous caves, Where manners ne'er were preach'd! out of my sight! Be not offended, dear Cesario. Rudesby, be gone! I prithee, gentle friend, Let thy fair wisdom, not thy passion, sway In this uncivil and thou unjust extent Against thy peace. Go with me to my house, And hear thou there how many fruitless pranks This ruffian hath botch'd up, that thou thereby Mayst smile at this: thou shalt not choose but go: Do not deny. Beshrew his soul for me, He started one poor heart of mine in thee. What relish is in this? how runs the stream? Or I am mad, or else this is a dream: Let fancy still my sense in Lethe steep; If it be thus to dream, still let me sleep! Nay, come, I prithee; would thou'ldst be ruled by me! Madam, I will. O, say so, and so be! Nay, I prithee, put on this gown and this beard; make him believe thou art Sir Topas the curate: do it quickly; I'll call Sir Toby the whilst. Well, I'll put it on, and I will dissemble myself in't; and I would I were the first that ever dissembled in such a gown. I am not tall enough to become the function well, nor lean enough to be thought a good student; but to be said an honest man and a good housekeeper goes as fairly as to say a careful man and a great scholar. The competitors enter. Jove bless thee, master Parson. Bonos dies, Sir Toby: for, as the old hermit of Prague, that never saw pen and ink, very wittily said to a niece of King Gorboduc, 'That that is is;' so I, being Master Parson, am Master Parson; for, what is 'that' but 'that,' and 'is' but 'is'? To him, Sir Topas. What, ho, I say! peace in this prison! The knave counterfeits well; a good knave. Who calls there? Sir Topas the curate, who comes to visit Malvolio the lunatic. Sir Topas, Sir Topas, good Sir Topas, go to my lady. Out, hyperbolical fiend! how vexest thou this man! talkest thou nothing but of ladies? Well said, Master Parson. Sir Topas, never was man thus wronged