And thou shalt live as freely as thy Lord,
To call his fortunes thine.

>Vio. I'll do: my best

To woo your Lady; yet, a barful ftrife!
Who-e'er I woo, myfelf would be his wife. [Exeunt.

Mar.

N

SCENE VI. 2

Changes to Olivia's Houfe.

Enter Maria and Clown.

AY, either tell me where thou hast been, or I will not open my lips fo wide as a briftle may enter, in way of thy excufe; my Lady will hang thee for thy abfence.

Clo. Let her hang me; he, that is well hang'd in this world, needs fear no colours.

Mar. Make That good.

Clo. He fhall fee none to fear.

Mar. A good lenten answer: I can tell thee where that faying was born, of, I fear no colours. Clo. Where, good miftress Mary?

Mar. In the wars; and that may you be bold to fay in your foolery.

Clo. Well, God give them wisdom that have it; and those that are fools, let them ufe their talents.

Mar. Yet you will be hang'd for being fo long abfent, or be turn'd away; is not that as good as a hanging to you?

Clo. Marry, a good hanging prevents a bad marriage; and for turning away, let fummer bear it out. Mar. You are refolute then?

Clo. Not fo neither, but I am refolv'd on two points.

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,

279 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 excufe wifely, you were beft. [Exit.

S C EN E VII.

Enter Olivia, and Malvolio.

Clo. W IT, and't be thy will, put me into a good

fooling those wits, that think they have thee, do very oft prove fools; and I, that am fure I lack thee, may pafs for a wife man. For what fays Quinapalus, Better be a witty fool than a foolish wit. God bless thee, Lady!

Oli. Take the fool away.

Clo. Do you not hear, fellows? take away the Lady.. 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: Bid the difhoneft man mend himfelf; if he mend, he is no longer difhoneft; if he cannot, let the botcher mend him. Any thing, that's mended, is but patch'd; virtue, that tranfgreffes, is but patch'd with fin; and fin, that amends, is but patch'd with virtue. If that this fimple fyllogifm will ferve, fo; if it will not, what remedy? as there is no true cuckold but calamity, fo 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 fay, I wear not motley in my brain: good Madona, give me leave to prove you a fool.

Oli. Can you do it?

N 6

Clo.

Clo. Dexterously, good Madona.

Oli. Make your proof.

Clo. I muft catechife 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'ft thou?
Oli. Good fool, for my brother's death.
Clo. I think, his foul is in hell, Madona.
Oli, I know, his foul is in heav'n, fool.

Clo. The more fool you, Madona, to mourn for your brother's foul being in heav'n: take away the fool, Gentlemen.

Oli. What think you of this fool, Malvolio, doth he not mend?

Mal. Yes, and fhall do, till the pangs of death shake him. Infirmity, that decays the wife, doth ever make better the fool.

Clo. God fend you, Sir, a speedy infirmity, for the better increafing your folly! Sir Toby will be fworn, that I am no fox; but he will not pass his word for two-pence, that you are no fool.

Oli. How fay you to that, Malvolio?

Mal. I marvel, your Ladyfhip takes delight in fuch a barren rafcal; I faw him put down the other day with an ordinary fool, that has no more brain than a flone. Look you now, he's out of his guard already; unless you laugh and minifter occafion to him, he is gagg'd. I proteft, I take these wife men, that crow fo at thefe fet kind of fools, no better than the fools' Zanies.

Oli. O, you are fick of self-love, Malvolio, and taste with a distemper'd appetite. To be generous, guiltlefs, and of free difpofition, is to take thofe 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 difcreet man, though he do nothing but reprove.

Clo.

Clo. Now Mercury indue thee with pleafing, for thou speak'ft well of fools!

Enter Maria.

Mar. Madam, there is at the gate a young Gentleman, much defires to speak with you.

Oli. From the Count Orfino, is it?

Mar. I know not, Madam, 'tis a fair young Man, and well attended. •

Oli. Who of my people hold him in delay?
Mar. Sir Toby, Madam, your Uncle.

Oli. Fetch him off, I pray you, he ipeaks nothing but madman: fie on him! Go you, Malvolio; if it be a fuit from the Count, I am fick, or not at home: What you will, to difmifs it. [Exit Malvolio] Now you fee, Sir, how your fooling grows old, and people diflike it.

Clo. Thou haft fpoke for us, Madona, as if thy eldeft Son fhould be a fool: whofe fcull Jove cram with brains, for here comes one of thy Kin has a moft weak Pia Mater!

Oli.

BY my honour, half drunk. What is he at

the

gate, Uncle?

Sir To. A Gentleman.

Oli. A Gentleman? what Gentleman?

Sir To. 'Tis a Gentleman-heir,-A plague o' these pickle herring how now, fot?

Clo. Good Sir Toby,

Oli. Uncle, Uncle, how have you come fo 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, fay 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 fecond mads him; and a third drowns him.

Oli. Go thou and feek 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 fhall look to the madman. [Exit Clown.

Enter Malvolio.

Mal. Madam, yond young Fellow fwears he will fpeak 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 feems 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 fhall not fpeak with me.

Mal. He has been told fo; and he fays, he'll ftand at your door like a Sheriff's poft, and be the fupporter 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, you or no.

will

Oli. Of what perfonage 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 peafcod, or a codling when 'tis almost an apple': 'tis with him in ftanding water, between boy and man. He is very well-favour'd, and he speaks very fhrewifhly; one would think, his mother's milk were fcarce out of him. Oli. Let him approach: call in my Gentlewoman. Mal. Gentlewoman, my Lady calls. [Exit. SCENE