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Is as the maiden's organ, shrill, and found,
my beft To woo your Lady; yet, a barrful strife ! Who-e'er I woo, my self would be his wife. [Exeunt.
SCENE changes. to. Olivia's House.
Enter Maria and Clown. Mar. AY, either tell me where thou haft been,
or I will not open my lips so wide as a bristle may enter, in way of thy excufe; my Lady will hang thee for thy absence.
Clo. Let her hang me; he, 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 where that saying was born, of, I fear no colours.
Clo. Where, good mistress Mary?
Mar. In the wars, and that may you be bold to say in your foolery.
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
Clo. Marry, a good hanging prevents a bad marriage; and for turning away, let fummer bear it out.
Mar. You are resolute then ?
Clo. Not fo neither, but I am resoly'd on two points.
Mar. That if one break, the other will hold; or, if Both break; your gaskins fall:
. 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 beft.
(Exit. Enter Olivia, and Malvolio. Clo. Wit, and't be thy will, put me into a good fooling! those wits, that think they have thee, do very oft proye
fools; and I, that am sure I lack thee, may pass for a wise man. For what says Quinapalus, Better 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 counfel will amend; for give the dry fool drink, then is the fool not dry: Bid the dishonest 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 tranfgreffes, is but patch'd with fin; and sin, that amends, is but patch'd with virtue. If that this simple 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 bad take away the fool, therefore, I say again, take her away.
Oli. Sir, I bad them take away you.
. Misprifion in the highest degree. -Lady, Cum cullus 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?
. 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 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 shall do, 'till the pangs of death shake 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 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 saw him put down the other day with an ordinary fool, that has no more brain than a ftone. Look you now, he's out of his guard already; unless you laugh and minister occasion to him, he is gagg’d. I proteft, I take these wise men, that crow lo at these let 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 disposition, is to take those things for birdbolts that you deem cannon-bullets : there is no Nander 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.
Cl. Now Mercury indue thee with leafing, 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 bat madman: fie 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 see, Sir, how your fooling grows old, and people dillike it.
Clo. Thou haft spoke for us, Madona, as if thy eldest Son should be a fool : whose fcull Jove cram with brains, for here comes one of thy Kin has a most weak Pia Mater!
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, - [belches.] A plague o' these pickle herring! how now, sot?
Člo. Good Sir Toby,
Oli. Uncle, Uncle, how have you come fo early by this lethargy?
Sir To. Lerchery! I defie 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, 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'd; go, look after him.
Çlo. He is but mad yet, Madona, and the fool shall look to the madman.
Enter Malvolio. Mah Madam, yond young Fellow fwears he will speak with you. I told him, you were fick; he takes on him to understand so much, and therefore comes to fpeak 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 faid to him, Lady? he's fortified against any denial.
Oli. Tell him, he shall not speak with me.
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. Of very ill manners ; he'll speak with you or no.
Oli. Of what personage and years is he?
Mal. Not yet old enough for a man, nor young nough for a boy; as a squash is before 'tis a pealcod, or a codling when 'tis almost an'apple: 'tis with him in standing water, between boy and man. He is very well-favour'd, and he speaks very shrewithly; one would think, his mother's milk were scarce out of him.
Oli. Let him approach: call in my Gentlewoman.
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 cart