William Shakespeare's Twelfth Night, the famous gender-bending comedy, tells the story of Viola, a young woman who loses her brother at sea.
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Twelfth-Night

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Act III. Scene II.

Scene II.—A Room in OLIVIA'S House.

Enter SIR TOBY BELCH, SIR ANDREW
AGUECHEEK, and FABIAN.

Sir And. No, faith, I'll not stay a jot longer.
Sir To. Thy reason, dear venom; give thy
reason.
Fab. You must needs yield your reason,
Sir Andrew.
Sir And. Marry, I saw your niece do more
favours to the count's serving-man than ever she
bestowed upon me; I saw't i' the orchard.
Sir To. Did she see thee the while, old boy?
tell me that,
Sir And. As plain as I see you now.
Fab. This was a great argument of love in
her toward you.
Sir And. 'Slight! will you make an ass o'
me?
Fab. I will prove it legitimate, sir, upon the
oaths of judgment and reason.
Sir To. And they have been grand-jurymen
since before Noah was a sailor.
Fab. She did show favour to the youth in
your sight only to exasperate you, to awake your
dormouse valour, to put fire in your heart, and
brimstone in your liver. You should then have
accosted her, and with some excellent jests, fire-
new from the mint, you should have banged the
youth into dumbness. This was looked for at
your hand, and this was balked: the double gilt
of this opportunity you let time wash off, and
you are now sailed into the north of my lady's
opinion; where you will hang like an icicle on
a Dutchman's beard, unless you do redeem it
by some laudable attempt, either of valour or
policy.
Sir And. An't be any way, it must be with
valour, for policy I hate; I had as lief be a
Brownist as a politician.
Sir To. Why, then, build me thy fortunes
upon the basis of valour: challenge me the
count's youth to fight with him; hurt him in
eleven places: my niece shall take note of it;
and assure thyself, there is no love-broker in the
world can more prevail in man's commendation
with woman than report of valour.
Fab. There is no way but this. Sir Andrew.
Sir And. Will either of you bear me a chal-
lenge to him?
Sir To. Go, write it in a martial hand; be
curst and brief; it is no matter how witty, so
it be eloquent, and full of invention: taunt him
with the licence of ink: if thou thou'st him
some thrice, it shall not be amiss; and as many
lies as will lie in thy sheet of paper, although
the sheet were big enough for the bed of Ware
in England, set 'em down: go, about it. Let
there be gall enough in thy ink, though thou
write with a goose-pen, no matter: about it.
Sir And. Where shall I find you?
Sir To. We'll call thee at the cubiculo: go.
[Exit SIR ANDREW.
Fab. This is a dear manakin to you, Sir
Toby.
Sir To. I have been dear to him, lad, some
two thousand strong, or so.
Fab. We shall have a rare letter from him;
but you'll not deliver it.
Sir To. Never trust me, then; and by all
means stir on the youth to an answer. I think
oxen and wainropes cannot hale them together.
For Andrew, if he were opened, and you find
so much blood in his liver as will clog the foot of
a flea, I'll eat the rest of the anatomy.
Fab. And his opposite, the youth, bears in his
visage no great presage of cruelty.
Sir To. Look, where the youngest wren of
nine comes.

Enter MARIA.
Mar. If you desire the spleen, and will laugh
yourselves into stitches, follow me Yond gull
Malvolio is turned heathen, a very renegado; for
there is no Christian, that means to be saved by
believing rightly, can ever believe such impos-
sible passages of grossness. He's in yellow
stockings.
Sir To. And cross-gartered?
Mar. Most villanously; like a pedant that
keeps a school i' the church. I have dogged him
like his murderer. He does obey every point of
the letter that I dropped to betray him: he does
smile his face into more lines than are in the
new map with the augmentation of the Indies.
You have not seen such a thing as 'tis; I can
hardly forbear hurling things at him. I know
my lady will strike him: if she do, he'll smile
and take't for a great favour.
Sir To, Come, bring us, bring us where he is.
[Exeunt.
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