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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 best.
Enter Olivia, and Malvolio.
Clo. Wit, an'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 fure I lack thee, may pass for a wife man. For what fays Quinapalus? Better a witty fool than a foolish wit. God blefs 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: befides, you grow difhoneft.
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 dishoneft; 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 counfellor 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.
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 Madona, give me leave to prove you a fool.
Oli. Can you do it?
Clo. Dexterously, good Madona.
Clo. I must catechize 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, 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, fir, a speedy infirmity, for the better increafing 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 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 proteft, I take those wise men that crow so at thefe fet kind of fools, no better than the fools' zanies.
Oli. O, you are fick of felf-love, Malvolio, and taste with a diftemper'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 discreet man, though he do nothing but reprove.
Clo. Now Mercury endue.thee with learning! for thou speak'st well of fools.
Mar. Madam, there is at the gate a young gentleman much defires to speak with you.
Oli. From the duke Orfino is it?
Mar. I know not, madam; 'tis a fair young man, and well
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 fuit from the duke, I am fick, or not at home: what you will to dismiss it. [Exit Malvolio.] Now fee, fir, how your fooling grows old, and people diflike it.
Clo. Thou haft spoke for us, Madona, as if thy eldest son should be a fool: whofe fcull Jove cram with brains! for here comes one of thy kin has a moft weak Pia Mater.
Enter fir 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-[belching.] a plague o'these pickle herring! how now, fot?
Clo. Good fir 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.
Sir To. Let him be the devil an he will, I care not: give me faith, fay I. Well, it's all onc.
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.
Mal. Madam, yond young fellow fwears he will speak with you. I told him, you were fick; he takes on him to underftand fo much, and therefore comes to speak 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 fhall not speak with me.
Mal. He has been told fo; and he fays, he'll ftand at your door like a fheriff's poft, or be the supporter 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, will you,
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 peascod, or a codling when 'tis almost an apple: 'tis with him in standing water, between boy and man. He is very wellfavour'd, and he speaks very fhrewifhly; one would think, his mother's milk were scarce out of him.
Oli. Let him approach: call in my gentlewoman.
Heretofore, All proclamations by the king, All appointments of the rates of wages by the justices of peace, and other things of the like nature were fent to the sheriff of each county, who was obliged to promulgate them not only by causing them to be read in every market town, but by affixing them to fome convenient place within it: for which purpose great pofts or pillars were erected in each fuch town, and thefe were call'd fheriff's pofts.
Oli. Give me my veil: come, throw it o'er my face; We'll once more hear Orfino's embassy.
Vio. The honourable lady of the house, which is fhe? Oli. Speak to me, I shall answer for her: your will ? Vio. Moft radiant, exquifite, and unmatchable beauty-I pray you, tell me, if this be the lady of the house, for I never faw her: I would be loath to caft away my speech; for, besides that it is excellently well penn'd, I have taken great pains to con it. Good beauties, let me fuftain no fcorn; I am very prompt, even to the least finister ufage.
Oli. Whence came you, fir?
Vio. I can fay little more than I have studied, and that queftion's out of my part. Good gentle one, give me modest affurance, if you be the lady of the house, that I may proceed in my speech.
Oli. Are you a comedian?
Vio. No, my profound heart; and yet, by the very fangs of malice, I swear, I am not that I play. Are you the lady of
Oli. If I do not ufurp myself, I am.
Vio. Most certain, if you are she, you do ufurp yourself; for what is yours to beftow, is not yours to referve; but this is from my commiffion. I will on with my speech in your praise, and then show you the heart of my meffage.
Oli. Come to what is important in't: I forgive you the praise. Vio. Alas, I took great pains to ftudy it, and 'tis poetical. Oli. It is the more like to be feign'd: I pray you, keep it in. I heard, you were faucy at my gates, and I allow'd your approach, rather to wonder at you than to hear you. If you be not mad, be