2. SCENE II. A Room in OLIVIA'S House.
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.
There is no way but this, Sir Andrew.
Will either of you bear me a challenge to him?
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.
Where shall I find you?
We'll call thee at the cubiculo. Go.
[Exit SIR ANDREW.]
This is a dear manakin to you, Sir Toby.
I have been dear to him, lad; some two thousand strong, or so.
We shall have a rare letter from him: but you'll not deliver it.
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.
And his opposite, the youth, bears in his visage no great
presage of cruelty.