SIR TOBY BELCH What wilt thou do?
MARIA I will drop in his way some obscure epistles of
love; wherein, by the colour of his beard, the shape
of his leg, the manner of his gait, the expressure
of his eye, forehead, and complexion, he shall find
himself most feelingly personated. I can write very
like my lady your niece: on a forgotten matter we
can hardly make distinction of our hands.
SIR TOBY BELCH Excellent! I smell a device.
SIR ANDREW I have't in my nose too.
SIR TOBY BELCH He shall think, by the letters that thou wilt drop,
that they come from my niece, and that she's in
love with him.
MARIA My purpose is, indeed, a horse of that colour.
SIR ANDREW And your horse now would make him an ass.
MARIA Ass, I doubt not.
SIR ANDREW O, 'twill be admirable!
MARIA Sport royal, I warrant you: I know my physic will
work with him. I will plant you two, and let the
fool make a third, where he shall find the letter:
observe his construction of it. For this night, to
bed, and dream on the event. Farewell.
[Exit]
SIR TOBY BELCH Good night, Penthesilea.
SIR ANDREW Before me, she's a good wench.
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