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.
Good night, Penthesilea.

SIR ANDREW.
Before me, she's a good wench.

SIR TOBY.
She's a beagle, true-bred, and one that adores me. What o' that?

SIR ANDREW.
I was ador'd once too.

SIR TOBY.
Let's to bed, knight. Thou hadst need send for more money.

SIR ANDREW.
If I cannot recover your niece, I am a foul way out.

SIR TOBY.
Send for money, knight; if thou hast her not i' th' end, call me
cut.