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Vio. Say, I do speak with her, my lord; what then?
DUKE. O, then, unfold the paffion of my love,

Surprize her with discourse of my dear faith;

It shall become thee well to act my woes;
She will attend it better in thy youth,
Than in a nuncio of more grave aspect.
V10. I think not fo, my lord.

DUKE. Dear lad, believe it:

For they shall yet belie thy happy years,
That fay, thou art a man: Diana's lip

Is not more smooth and rubious; thy small pipe
Is as the maiden's organ, fhrill, and found,

And all is femblative

a woman's part.

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 shalt 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 barful ftrife!

Who-e'er I woo, myself would be his wife.

SCENE VI. Changes to Oliva's house.

Enter Maria and Clown.

[Exeunt.

MAR. Nay, either tell me where thou hast 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 answer: I can tell thee where that Laying 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 fo 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 marriage; and for turning aaway, 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 gafkins 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 excufe wifely, you were best

SCENE VII. Enter Oliyia and Malvolio.

[Exit.

CLO. Wit, 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 pals for a wife For what fays Quinapalus, better be a witty fool, than a foolish wit. God bless thee, lady!

man.

OLI. Take the fool away.

CLO. Do you not hear, fellows? take away the lady. OLI. Go to, y'are a dry fool, I'l no more of you; befides, 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 dishonest man mend himself; 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 tranfgresses, 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, 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. Mifprifion in the highest degree.-Lady, " Cu"cullus 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?

CLO. Dexterously, good Madona:

OLI. Make your proof.

Cro. I must catechife you for it, Madona; good my mouse of virtue, answer me.

OLI. Well, fir, for want of other idleness, I'll bide your proof.

CLO. Good Madona, why mourn'st 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, gentle

men.

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

MAL. Yes, and shall do, 'till the pangs of death fhake

him. Infirmity, that decays the wife, doth ever make better the fool.

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

OLI. How fay you to that, Malvolio?

MAL. I marvel, your ladyship takes delight in such a barren rafcal; I faw 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 minister occafion to him, he is gagg'd. I protest, I take these wife men, that crow so at these fet kind of fools, no better than the fools' Zanies.

OLI. O, you are fick of felf-love, Malvolio, and tafte with a distemper'd appetite. To be generous, guiltless, 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. Now Mercury indue thee with leafing, for thou fpeak'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 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.] Now you fee, fir, how your fooling grows old, and people diflike it.

CLO. Thou haft spoke for us, Madona, as if thy eldest fon should be a fool: whofe skull Jove cram with brains, for here comes one of thy kin haft a most weak PIA MATER!

SCENE VIII. Enter Sir Toby.

OLI. By mine honour half drunk. What is he at the gate, uncle?

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 Sir Toby.

OLI. Uncle, uncle, how have you come fo early by this lethargy?

Sir To. Letchery! 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, fay I. Well, it's all one.

OLI. What's a drunken man like, fool?

[Exit.

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 dryns him.

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

CLO. He is but mad yet, Madona, and the fool shall look to the madman.

[Exit Clown,

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