“Am not I consanguineous? am I not of her blood? Tilly-valley,
Lady. 'There dwelt a man in Babylon, lady, lady.'
Clown. Beshrew me, the knight's in admirable fooling. SIR ANDREW. Ay, he does well enough if he be disposed, and so do I too; he does it with a better grace, but I do it more natural.
SIR TOBY. [Singing] O, the twelfth day of December,— Maria. For the love o' God, peace! [Enter MALVOLIO] MALVOLIO. My masters, are you mad? or what are you? Have you no wit, manners, nor honesty, but to gabble like tinkers at this time of night?”