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Sir And. I'll stay a Month longer. I am a Fellow o'th'strangest Mind i'the World: I delight in Masks and Revels fometimes altogether.
Sir To. Art thou good at these Kick-shaws, Knight?
Sir And. As any Man in Illyria, whatsoever hebe, under the Degree of my Betters, and yet I will not compare with an old Man.
Sir To. What is thy Excellence in a Galliard, Knight?
Sir And. And I think I have the Back-trick, simply as strong as any Man in Illyria.
Sir To. Wherefore are these things hid? Wherefore have these Gifts a Curtain before 'em? Are they like to take Duft, like Mistress Malls Picture? Why doft thou not go to Church in a Galliard, and come home in a Carranto? My very Walk should be a Jig! I would not so much as make, Water but in a Sink-a-pace: What dost thou mean? Is it a World to hide Virtues in? I did not think, by the excellent Constitution of thy Leg, it was form'd under the Star of a Galliard.
Sir And. Ay, 'tis strong, and it does indifferent well in a dam'd-colour'd Stocken. Shall we fit about some Revels?
Sir To. What shall we do else; were we not born under Taurus ?
Sir And. Taurus? That's Sides and Heart..
SirTo. No, Sir, it is Legs and Thighs. Let me see thee Caper, Ha, higher: Ha, ha, excellent.
Exeunt. SCENE IV. The Palace.
Enter Valentine, and Viola in Man's Attire.
Vio. You either fear his Humour, or my Negligence, that you call in question the Continuance of his Love. Is
he inconstant, Sir, in his Favours? bei Val. No, believe me.
Enter Duke, Curio, and Attendants.
Duke. Stand you a while aloof. Cesario,
Vio. Sure, my noble Lord,
Duke. Be clamorous, and leap all civil Bounds,
Vio. Say I do speak with her, my Lord, what then?
Vio. I think not so, my Lord.
Duke. Dear Lad, believe it:
Vio. I'll do my best
Scene SCENE V. Olivia's House.
Enter Maria, and Clown. Mar. Nay, either tell me where thou hast been, or I will not open my Lips so wide as a Bristle may enter in way of thy Excuse; 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 this as good as a hanging to
Clo. Many a good Hanging prevents a bad Marriage; 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 Gaskings 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 Illyria,
Mar. Peace, you Rogue, no more o’that: Here comes my Lady; make your Excuse wisely you were best.
Enter Olivia and Malvolio. Clo. Wit, and'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 Quinapalns, Better a witty Fool than a foolish Wit. God bless chee, Lady.
Oli. Take the Fool away.
take her Lady be cucko
Oli. Go to, y'are a dry Fool; I'll no more of you; bi fides you grow dishonest.
Clo. Two Faults, Madona, that Drink and good Coun will amend; for give the dry Fool Drink, then is the For not dry. Bid the dishonest Man mend himself; if he mend, he: no longer dishonest, if he cannot, let the Botcher mend him Any thing that's mended is but patch'd: Virtue that tras gresses is but patch'd with Sin, and Sin that amends is be patch'd with Virtue. If that, this fimple Sillogism will serve. so; if it will not, what Remedy? As there is no true Cuckolc but Calamity, so Beauty's a Flower: The Lady bad take a way the Fool, therefore I say again, take her away.
Oli. Sir, I bad them take away you.
Clo. Misprision in the highest Degree. Lady, Cucullus nor facit monachum; that as much as to say, as I were not mot ley 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.
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 Heaven: Take away the Fool, Gen. tlemen.
Oli. What think you of this Fool, Malvolio, doth he not mend?
Mal. Yes, and shall do, 'till the Pangs of Death shake him. Informity, that decays the Wise, doth ever make the better 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.
dinary Fooke's out of his Lina, he is gagg’d.
of Fools, no
Oli. How say you to that, Malvolio?
Mal. I marvel your Ladyship takes Delight in such a bar:ren Rascal ; I saw him put down the other Day with an ori dinary Fool, that has no more Brains than a Stone. Look - you now, he's out of his Guard already ; unless you laugh
and minister Occasion to him, he is gagg’d. I protest I take thele wise Men that crow so at thele set kind of Fools, no better than the Fools Zanies.
Oli. O you are sick 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 Bird-bolts that you deem Canon-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 learning, 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: Fie on him. Go you, Malvolio; if it be a Suit from the Corint, I am sick, or not at home. What you will to dismiss it.
[Exit Malvolio. Now fee, Sir, how your fooling grows old, and people dillike it.
Clo. Thou haft spoke forus, Madona, as if thy eldest Son should be a Fool: whole Scull 7owe cram with Brairs, for here he comes.
Enter Sir Toby.
Oli. By mine Honour half drunk. What is he at the
Sir To. A Gentleman.
seople hour Kinloelaks no be a su