Mal. Oh ho, do you come neere me now: no worse man then sir Toby to looke to me. This concurres directly with the Letter, she sends him on purpose, that I may appeare stubborne to him: for she incites me to that in the Letter. Cast thy humble slough sayes she: be opposite with a Kinsman, surly with seruants, let thy tongue langer with arguments of state, put thy selfe into the tricke of singularity: and consequently setts downe the manner how: as a sad face, a reuerend carriage, a slow tongue, in the habite of some Sir of note, and so foorth. I haue lymde her, but it is Ioues doing, and Ioue make me thankefull. And when she went away now, let this Fellow be look'd too: Fellow? not Maluolio, nor after my degree, but Fellow. Why euery thing adheres togither, that no dramme of a scruple, no scruple of a scruple, no obstacle, no incredulous or vnsafe circumstance: What can be saide? Nothing that can be, can come betweene me, and the full prospect of my hopes. Well Ioue, not I, is the doer of this, and he is to be thanked. Enter Toby, Fabian, and Maria. To. Which way is hee in the name of sanctity. If all the diuels of hell be drawne in little, and Legion himselfe possest him, yet Ile speake to him Fab. Heere he is, heere he is: how ist with you sir? How ist with you man? Mal. Go off, I discard you: let me enioy my priuate: go off Mar. Lo, how hollow the fiend speakes within him; did not I tell you? Sir Toby, my Lady prayes you to haue a care of him Mal. Ah ha, does she so? To. Go too, go too: peace, peace, wee must deale gently with him: Let me alone. How do you Maluolio? How ist with you? What man, defie the diuell: consider, he's an enemy to mankinde Mal. Do you know what you say? Mar. La you, and you speake ill of the diuell, how he takes it at heart. Pray God he be not bewitch'd Fab. Carry his water to th' wise woman Mar. Marry and it shall be done to morrow morning if I liue. My Lady would not loose him for more then ile say Mal. How now mistris? Mar. Oh Lord To. Prethee hold thy peace, this is not the way: Doe you not see you moue him? Let me alone with him Fa. No way but gentlenesse, gently, gently: the Fiend is rough, and will not be roughly vs'd To. Why how now my bawcock? how dost y chuck? Mal. Sir To. I biddy, come with me. What man, tis not for grauity to play at cherrie-pit with sathan Hang him foul Colliar Mar. Get him to say his prayers, good sir Toby gette him to pray Mal. My prayers Minx Mar. No I warrant you, he will not heare of godlynesse Mal. Go hang your selues all: you are ydle shallowe things, I am not of your element, you shall knowe more heereafter. Exit To. Ist possible? Fa. If this were plaid vpon a stage now, I could condemne it as an improbable fiction To. His very genius hath taken the infection of the deuice man Mar. Nay pursue him now, least the deuice take ayre, and taint Fa. Why we shall make him mad indeede