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Duke. Be clamorous, and leap all civil bounds, Rather than make unprofited return.
Vio. Say, I do speak with her, my Lord; what then?
Duke. Ö, then, unfold the passion of my love,
my woes ; : She will attend it better in thy youth, Than in a nuncio of more grave aspect..
Vio. I think not fo, my Lord.
Duke. Dear lad, believe it:
best To woo your Lady ; yet, a barful strife ! : Who-e'er I woo, myself would be his wife. [Exeunt.. SCEN E changes to Olivia's Houfe.
Enter Maria and Clown. Mar,
or I will not open my lips so wide as bristle may, enter, in way of thy.excuse; my Lady will. hang thee for thy absence.
Cle. Let her hang me; hé, that is well hang'd in: this world, needs fear no colours.
Mar. Make that good.
Mar. A good lenten answer: I can tell thee whereabat saying was born, of, I fear no colours.
Gle.. Where, good miftress Mary?
Mar. In the wars, and that may you be bold to say in your foolery.
€lo. Well, God give them wisdom that have it; and those that are fools, let them use their talents.
Mar. Yet you will be hang'd for being so long absent, or be turned away ;: is not that as good as a hang: ing to you?
Clo. Marry, a good hanging prevents a bad marriage; and for turning away, let summer bear it out.
Mar. You are resolute then ?
Clo. Not so neither, but I am resolvid on two points.
Mar. That if one break, the other will hold; or, if both break, your gafkins fall.
Clo. Apt, in good faith ; very apt: well, go thy way, if Sir Toby would leave drinking, thou wert as wilty a piece of Eve's flesh as any in Illyria.
Mar. Peace, you rogue, no more o’that: here comes my Lady; make your excuse wisely, you were beft.'
[Exit. Enter Olivia, and Malvolio. Clo. Wit, and't be thy wilt, put me into good fooling! those wits, that think they have thee, do verý oft
prove fools; and I, that am sure I lack thee, may, pass for a wise man. For what says Quinapalus, bet ter a witty fool than a foolish wit. God bless thee, Lady!
Oli. Take the fool away..
Oli. Go to, y’are a dry fool; I'll ne more of you ; besides, you grow dishoneft.
Clo. Two faults, Madona, that drink and good coun. sel will amend; for give the dry fool drink, then is the fool not dry: bid the dishoneft man mend himself; if he mend, he is no longer dishoneft; if he cannot, let the botcher mend him. Any thing, that's mended, is but patch’d; virtue, that transgresses, is but patch'd. with fin; and An, that, amends, is but patch'd with virtue. If that this fimple fyllogism will serve, fo ;- if
it will not, what remedy? as there is no' true cuckold but calamity, so beauty's a flower: the Lady bade take away the fool, therefore, I say again, take her away.
oli. Sir, I bade them take away you.
Cl. Misprifion in the highest degree.---Lady, Ciecullus non facit monachum; that's as much as to say, I wear not motley in my brain : good Madona, give me leave to prove you a fool.
Oli. Can you do it?
Clo. I must catechize you for it, Madona ; good' my mouse of virtue, answer me.
Oli. Well, Sir, for want of other idleness, I'll bide your proof.
Clo. Good Madona, why mourn't thou ?
Clo. The more fool you, Madona, to mourn fort your brother's soul being in heav'n : take away the fool, gentlemen.
Oli. What think you of this fool, Malvolio, doth he not mend?
Mal. Yes, and shall do, 'till the pangs of death shakehim. Infirmity, that decays the wise, doth ever make better the fool,
Clo. God send you, Sir, a speedy infirmity, for the better increafing your folly! Sir Toby will be sworn, that I am no fox, but he will not pass his word for two pence, that you are no fool.
Oli. How say you to that, Malvolio? Mal. I marvel, your Ladyship takes delight in such: a barren rascal ; I faw him put down the other day with an ordinary fool, that has no more brain than a Mone. Look you now, he's out of his guard already; unless you laugh and minister. occafion to him, he is gagg’d. I proteft, I take these wise men, that crow so at these set kind of fools, no better than the fools Zanies.
Oli. O, you are fick of self-love, Malvolio, and taste with a diftemper'd appetite. To be generous, guiltless, and of free difpofition, is to take those things for bird-bolts that you deem cannon-bullets : there is no flander in an allow'd fool, though he do nothing but rail ; nor no railing in a known discreet man, though be do nothing but reprove.
Clo. Now Mercury indue thee with leasing, for thou peak'it well of fools !
Enter Maria. Mar. Madam, there is at the gate a young gentles man, 'much desires to speak with you.
Oli. From the Count Orfina, is it?
Mar. I know not, Madam, 'tis a fair young man, and well attended.
Oli. Who of my people hold him in delay?
Oli. Petch him off, I pray you, he speaks nothing bat madman: fy on him! Ġo you, Malvolio; if it be a fuit from the Count, I am fick, or not at home : What you will, to dismiss it. (Exit Malvolio.] Now you fee, Sir, how your fooling grows old, and people dillike it.
Clo. Thou haf spoke for us, Madona, as if thy eldeft fon should be a fool, whose feull Jove cram with brains, for here comes one of thy kin ħas a molt weak pia mater!
Enter Sir Toby. Oli. By mine honour, half drunk. What is he at the gate, uncle ?
Sir To. A gentleman. Oli. A gentleman? what gentleman Sir To. "Tis a gentleman. Here, — [belches.] A plague o' these pickle herring! how now, 'lot?
Člo. Good Sir Toby, Oli. Uncle, uncle, how have you come so early by this lethargy?
Sir To. Letchery, I defy letchery : there's one at Oli. Ay, marry, what is he?
Sir To. Let him be the devil and he will, I care not: give me faith, say I Well, it's all one. [Exit.
Oli. What's a drunken man like, fool ?
Clo. Like a drown'd man, a fool, and a madman ? one draught above heat makes him a fool; the second mads him ; and a third drowns him.
Oli. Go thou and seek the coroner, and let him fit o' my uncle; for he's in the third degree of drink ; he's drown) ; go, look after him.,
Clo. He is but mad yet, Madona, and the fool fait louk to the madman.
Exit Clown. Enter Malvolio. Mal. Madam, yond young fellow swears he will speak with you. I told him, you were fick; he takes. on him to understand so much, and therefore comes to speak with you. I told him, you were asleep; he seems to have a fore-knowledge of that too, and therefore comes to speak with you. What is to be said to him, Lady? he's fortified against any denial.
Oli. Tell him, he shall not speak with me,
Mal. He has been told so; and he says, he'll stand at your door like a Sheriff's poft, and be the supporter to a bench, but he'll speak with you.
Oli. What kind o'man is he?
Odi. Of what personage and years is he?
nor young enough for a boy; as a squash is before 'tis a peascod, or a codling when 'tis almost an apple: ’ris with him in standing water, between boy and man. well-favour’d, and he speaks very threwishly ; one would think his mother's milk were scarce out of him.
you or no.
He is very