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Clo. 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 turn'd away; is not that as good as a hanging to you?
Clo Marry, a good hanging prevents a bad marTiage; and for turning away, let summer bear it out.
Mar. You are resolute then?
Mar. That if one break, the other will hold; or, if both break, your gaskins fall.
Clo. Apt, in good faith; very apt: well, go thy way, if Sir Toby would leave drinking, thou wert as witty 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 belt.
S CE N E VII.
Enter Olivia, and Malvalio. Clo. Wit, an't be thy will, put me into good fooling! those wits that think they have thee, do very oft prove fools; and I, that am sure I lack thee, may pass for a wise man. For what says Quinapalus, Better be 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 no more of you; besides you grow dishonest.
Clo. Two faults, Madona, that drink and good counsel will amend; for, give the dry fool drink, then is the fool not dry: bd the difhonest man mend himself, if he mend, he is no longer dishonest; if he cannot, let the botcher mend him. Any thing that's mended, is but patch'd ; virtue, that tranl. gresses, is but patch'd with sm; and sin, that amends, is but patch'd with virtue. If that this simple fyllogisın will serve, so; 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.
Clo. Misprifion in the highest degree.-Lady, cucullus 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'st thou?
Clo. The more fool you, Madona, to mourn for your brother's soul being in heav'n. Take away the fool, gentlemen.
Oli. What think you of this fool, Malvolio? doth he net mend ?
Mál. Yes, and shall do, 'till the pangs of death make him. Infirmity, that decays the wise, doth ever make better the fool.
Clo. God send you, Sir, a speedy infirmity, for the better increasing your folly ! Sir Toby will be sworn, that I am no fox; but he will not pass his word for taropence 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 saw him put down the other day with an ordinary fool, that has no more brain than a stone. Look vou now, he's out of his guard already ; unlefs you laugh and minister occasion to him, he is gagg’d. I protest
, 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 tafte with a distemper'd appetite. To be generous, guiltless, and of free disposition, is to take those. VOL. III.
things for bird-bolts that you deem cannon-bullets. There is no slander in an allow'd fool, though he do nothing but rail; nor no railing in a known discreet man, though he do nothing but reprove.
Clo. Now Mercury indue thee with leasing, for thou speak'st well of fools !
Enter Maria. Mar. Madam, there is at the gate a young gentleman much desires to speak with you.
Oli. From the Count Orsino, 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. Fetch him off, I pray you, he speaks nothing but madman: fy on him! Go you, Malvolio; if it be a suit 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 dislike it.
Clo. Thou hast spoke for us, Madona, as if thy eldest son should be a fool : whose skull Jove cram with brains, for here comes one of thy kin has a most weak pia mater!
S CE N E VIII.
Enter Sir Toby. Oli. By mine honour, half drunk. What is he at the gate, uncle ?
Sir To. A gentleman.
Sir To. 'Tis a gentleman. Here-A plague o' these pickle herring ! how now, fot:
Clo. 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 the gate. 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, 'tis 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'd; go, look after him.
Clo. He is but mad yet, Madona ; and the fool Thall look 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 hiin, he shall not speak with me.
Mal. He has been told fo; and he says, he'll Itand at your door like a sheriff's post, and be the supporter to a bench, but he'll speak with you. Oli. What kind o man is he? Mal. Why, of mankind. Oli, What manner of man?
Mal. Of very ill manners; he'll speak with you, will you or no.
Oli. Of what personage and years is he?
Mal. Not yet old enough for a man, nor young enough for a boy; as a squash is before’tis a peafecod, or a codling when 'tis alınost an apple : 'tis with him in standing water between boy and man. He is very well-favour'd, and he speaks very shrewishly; one would think, his mother's milk were scarce out of him.
Oli. Let him approach: call in my gentlewoman. Mal. Gentlewoman, my Lady calls. [Exit.
S CE N E IX.
Enter Maria. Oli. Give me my veil: come, throw it o'er my face; We'll once more hear Orsino's embally.
Enter Viola.. Vio. The honourable Lady of the house, which is she?
Oli. Speak to me, I shall answer for her : your will?
Vio. Most radiant, exquisite, and unmatchable beauty - I pray you,. tell me, if this be the Lady of the house, for I never saw her. I would be loth to cast away my speech; for, besides that it is excellently well penn'd, I have taken great pains to con it. Good beauties, let me sustain no ícorn; I am very comptible, even to the lealt sinister usage.
Oli. Whence came you, Sir ?
Vio. I can say little more than I have studied, and that question's out of my part. Good gentle one, give ine modest assurance, if you be the Lady of the house, that I may proceed in my speech,
Oli. Are you a comedian?
Vio. No, my profound heart'; and yet, by the very fangs of malice, I swear, I am not that I play. Are you the lady of the house ?
Oli. If I do not usurp myself, I am..
Vio. Most certain, if you are fhe, you do usurp yourself; for what is yours to bestow, is not yours io reserve; but this is from my commission. I will on with my speech in your praise, and then she w you the heart of my message.
Oli. Come to what is important in't: I forgive you the praise.
Vio. Alas, I took great pains to study, it, and 'tis poctical.
Oli. It is the more like to be feign'd. I pray you keep it in. I heard you were fawcy at my gates; and I allow'd your approach, rather to wonder at you than to hear you. If you be not mad,