I know, thy conftellation is right apt

For this affair :-Some four, or five, attend him;
All, if you will; for I myself am best,

When leaft in company :-Profper well in this,
And thou fhalt live as freely as thy lord,
To call his fortunes thine,

Vio. I'll do my best,

To woo your lady: [Exit Duke.] yet, a barrful ftrife!

Whoe'er I woo, myself would be his wife.

SCENE V. OLIVIA'S Houfe.

Enter MARIA, and Clown.

[Exeunt,

Mar. Nay, either tell me where thou haft been or I will not open my lips fo wide as a bristle 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 anfwer: I can tell thee where that faying was born, of, I fear no colours, Clo. Where, good mistress 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 use their talents.

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

Cle

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; if fir 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.

Enter OLIVIA, and MALVOLIO.

[Exit.

Clo. Wit, and't be thy will, put me into good fooling! Thofe 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 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, you're a dry fool; I'll no more of you befides you grow dishonest.

Clo. Two faults, Madonna, that drink and good counfel will amend; for give the dry fool drink, then is the fool not dry; bid the difhoneft man mend himself; if he mend, he is no longer dithoneft; if he cannot, let the botcher mend him : Any thing, that's mended, is but patch'd: virtue,

that

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. Mifprifion in the highest degree !-Lady, Cucullus non facit monachum; that's as much as to fay; I wear not motley in my brain. Good Madonna, give me leave to prove you a fool. Oli. Can you do it?

Clo. Dexterously, good Madonna.

Oli. Make your proof.

Clo. I muft catechize you for it, Madonna; Good my moufe of virtue, answer me?

Oli. Well, fir, for want of other idlenefs, I'll bide your proof.

Clo. Good Madonna, why mourn'st thou?
Oli. Good fool, for my brother's death.
Clo. I think, his foul is in hell, Madonna.
Oli. I know his foul is in heaven, fool.

Clo. The more fool you, Madonna, to mourn for your brother's foul being in heaven.—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 fhake him: Infirmity, that decays the wife, doth ever make the better fool.

Clo. God fend you, fir, a fpeedy infirmity, for the better increafing your folly! Sir Toby will be

fworn,

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 saw him put down the other day with an ordinary fool, that has no more brain than a stone: Look you now, he's out of his guard already; unless you laugh and minifter occafion to him, he is gagg'd. I protest, 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 felf-love, Malvolio, and tafte with a diftemper'd appetite: to be generous, guiltlefs, and of free difpofition, is to take those things for bird-bolts, that you deem cannon bul lets: There is no flander 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 leafing, for thou speak'ft well of fools!

Enter MARIA.

Mar. Madam, there is at the gate a young gen. tleman, 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 kinsman.

Oli. Fetch him off, I pray you; he speaks 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.J

MALVOLIO.] Now you fee, fir, how your fooling grows old, and people diflike it.

Clo. Thou haft fpoke for us, Madonna, as if thy eldest fon fhould be a fool: whofe fcull Jove cram with brains, for here comes one of thy kin has a moft weak pia mater!

Enter Sir TOBY.

Oli. By mine honour, half drunk.--What is he at the gate, coufin?

Sir To. A gentleman.

Oli. A gentleman! What gentleman ?

Sir To. 'Tis a gentleman here-A plague o'thefe pickle-herring!-how now, fot?

Clo. Good fir Toby

Oli. Coufin, coufin, how have you come fo early by this lethargy!

Sir To. Lechery! I defy lechery: There's one at the gate.

Oli. Ay, marry; what is he?

Sir To. Let him be the devil, an 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 makes him a fool; the fecond mads him; and the third drowns him.

Oli. Go thou and seek the coroner, and let him fit o' my coz; for he's in the third degree of drink, he's drown'd: go, look after him.

Clo. He is but mad yet, Madonna; and the fool fhall look to the mad man. [Exit Clown.

Re-enter MALVOLIO.

Mal. Madam, yond young fellow fwears he will

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