This is Part D of the director’s commentary on Twelfth Night Act 2, Scene 3. (A | B | C | D | E)
It’s interesting that Andrew’s the first one who starts the discussion of possible plots to get back at Malvolio, and being a knave knight, he suggests that they duel-cuckold the old Steward:
Andrew: T’were as good a deed as to drink when a man’s a hungry, to challenge him the field, and then to break promise with him, and make a fool of him.
And, rather than being the one to propose ideas, Toby offers to help:
Toby: Do it knight. I’ll write thee a Challenge, or I’ll deliver thy indignation to him by word of mouth.
Maria, having recovered from being unexpectedly put down by Malvolio, is ready to get back at him, and to win Toby’s admiration:
Maria: Sweet Sir Toby, be patient for tonight: Since the youth of the Count’s was today with my Lady, she is much out of quiet. For Monsieur Malvolio, let me alone with him: If I do not gull him into a nayword, and make him a common recreation, do not think I have written enough to lye straight in my bed. I know I can do it.
Toby is intrigued (somehow I imagine him saying this like Sylvester the Cat in Looney Tunes, with a sort of lisp):
Toby: Possess us, possess us, tell us something of him.
Maria continues, setting up her scene:
Maria: Marry sir, sometimes he is a kind of Puritan.
Andrew, knowing that he can’t beat Maria in wits, now tries to win Toby’s heart via brawn:
Andrew: O, if I thought that, I’d beat him like a dog.
Toby is amused:
Toby: What for being a Puritan, thy exquisite reason, dear knight.
Always very straight-forward, simple-minded Andrew replies:
Andrew: I have no exquisite reason for’t, but I have reason good enough.
Maria explains how her scheme will work:
Maria: The devil’s a Puritan that he is, or anything constantly but a time-pleaser, an affection’d Ass, that cons state without book and utters it by great swarths. The best persuaded of himself, so crammed (as he thinks) with excellencies, that it is his grounds of faith, that all look on him, love him: and on that vice in him, will my revenge find notable cause to work.
Toby is ready for it–he asks the big “what”
Toby: What wilt thou do?
And she presents it:
Maria: I will drop in his way some obscure Epistles of love, wherein by the colour of his beard, the shape of his legs, 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.
Toby takes some time to figure it out:
Toby: Excellent, I smell a device…
Floppishly, Andrew is still trying to win Toby’s approval on the scheme to get back at Malvolio:
Andrew: I hav’t in my nose too.
And, Toby figures it out!:
Toby: 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, with mysterious and malicious intrigue:
Maria: My purpose is indeed a horse of that colour.
Andrew gets it, too:
Andrew: And your horse now would make him an Ass.
Maria agrees.
Maria: Ass, I doubt not.
Andrew, no longer competing against Maria, enamored by the plan, is all for it:
Andrew: O t’will be admirable.
Maria assigns her cast (though the Fool, being only haphazardly available, will be replaced by Fabian). Maria makes her leave.
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.
Maria exits.
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