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 occasion to him, he is gagg'd. I protest, I take these wise men, that crow so at these set kind of fools, no better than the fool's zanies. Oli. O, you are sick of self-love, Malvolio, and taste with a distemper'd appetite. To be generous, guiltless, and of free disposition, is to take those things for birdbolts, that yon deem cannon-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 leasing, for thou speak'st well of fools! Re-enter MARIA. Mar. Madam, there is at the gate a young gentleman, much desirous 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! [Exit Maria] Go you, Malvolio: if it be a suit from the count, i am sick, or not at home; what you will, to dismiss it. [Exit Mal volio] Now you see, sir, how your fooling grows old, and people dislike it. Clo. Thou hast spoke for us, Madonna, as if thy eldest son should be a fool: whose scull Jove crain with brains, for here he comes, one of thy kin, has a most weak pia mater. Enter Sir TOBY BELCH. Oli. By mine honour, half drunk.-What is he at the gate, cousin? Sir To. A gentleman. Oli. A gentleman? What gentleman? Sir To. Tis a gentleman here-A plague o'these pickle-herrings:-how now, sot? Clo. Good sir Toby, Oli. Cousin, cousin, how have you come so early by this lethargy? Sir To. Lechery! I defy lechery: There's one at the gite. Oli. Ay, marry; what is he? Sir To. Let him be the devil, an he will, I care not: give me faith, say 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 second mads him; and a third drowns him. Oli. Go thou and seek the coroner, and let him sit 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 shall look to the madman." Re-enter MALVOLIO. [Exit. Mal. Madam, yond young fellow swears he will speak with you. I told him you were sick; he takes on him to understand so much, and therefore comes to speak with you: I told him you were asleep; he seems to have a foreknowledge of that too, and therefore comes to speak with you. What is to be said to him, lady? he's fortified against any denial. Oli. Tell him, he shall not speak with me. Mal. He has been told so; and he says, he'll stand at your door like a sheriff's post, and be the supporter to a bench, but he'll speak with you. Oli. What kind of man is he? Mal. Why, of mankind. Oli. What manner of man? Mal. Of very ill manner; he'll speak with you, will you, or no. Oli. Of what personage, 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 codlin when 'tis almost an apple; 'tis with him e'en standing water, between boy and man. He is very well-favour'd, and he speaks very shrewishly; one would think his mother's milk were scarce out of him. Oli. Let him approach: Call in my gentlewoman. Re-enter MARIA. Oli. Give me my veil: come, throw it o'er my face; We'll once more hear Orsino's embassy. Enter VIOLA. Vio. The honourable lady of the house, which is she? 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 cast away my speech; for, besides that it is excellently well penn'd, I have taken great pains to con it. Good beauties, let me sustain no scorn; I am very comptible, even to the least sinister usage. Óli. Whence came you, sir? Vio. I can say little more than I have studied, and that question's out of my part. Good gentle one, give me modest assurance 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 the house? Oli. If I do not usurp myself, I am. Vio. Most certain, if you are she, you do usurp your. self; for what is yours to bestow, is not yours to reserve. But this is from my commission: I will on with my speech in your praise, and then show you the heart of my message. Oli. Come to what is important in't: I forgive you the praise. Vio. Alas, I took great pains to study it, and 'tis poetical. Oli. It is the more like to be feign'd; I pray yon, keep it in. I heard, you were saucy at my gates; and allow'd your approach, rather to wonder at you than to hear you. If you be not mad, be gone; if you have reason, be brief: 'tis not that time of moon with me, to make one in so skipping a dialogue. Mar. Will you hoist sail, sir? here lies your way. Vio. No, good swabber; I am to hull here a little longer. Some mollification for your giant, sweet lady. Oli. Tell me your mind. Vio. I am a messenger. Oli. Sure, you have some hideous matter to deliver, when the courtesy of it is so fearful. Speak your office. Vio. It alone concerns your ear. I bring no overture of war, no taxation of homage; I hold the olive in my hand; my words are as full of peace as matter. Oli. Yet you began rudely. What are you? what would you? Vio. The rudeness, that hath appear'd in me, have I earn'd from my entertainment. What I am, and what I would, are as secret as maiden-head: to your ears, divinity to any others profanation. Oli. Give us the place alone: we will hear this divinity. [Exit Maria] Now, sir, what is your text? Vio. Most sweet lady, Oli. A comfortable doctrine, and much may be said of it. Where lies your text? Vio. In Orsino's bosom. Oli. In his bosom? In what chapter of his bosom ? Vio. To answer by the method, in the first of his heart, Oli. O, I have read it; it is heresy. Have you no more to say? Vio. Good madam, let me see your face. Oli. Have you any commission from your lord to negociate with my face? you are now out of your text: but we will draw the curtain, and show you the picture. Look you, sir, such a one I was this present: Is't not well done? [Unveiling. Vio. Excellently done, if God did all. Oli. 'Tis in grain, sir; 'twill endure wind and weather. If you will lead these graces to the grave, Oli. O, sir, I will not be so hard-hearted; I will give out divers schedules of my beauty: It shall be inven toried; and every particle, and utensil, label'd to my will as, item, two lips indifferent red; item, two grey eyes, with lids to them; item, one neck, one chin, and so forth. Were you sent hither to praise me? Vio. I see you what you are you are too proud; But, if you were the devil, you are fair. My lord and master loves you; O, such love Oli. How does he love me? Vio. With adorations, with fertile tears, With groans that thunder love, with sighs of fire. With such a suffering, such a deadly life, Oli. Why, what would you? Vio. Make me a willow cabin at your gate, Oli. You might do much: What is your parentage? Vio. Above my fortunes, yet my state is well: I am a gentleman. Oli. Get you to your lord; I cannot love him: let him send no more; Above my fortunes, yet my state is well: I am a gentleman: -I'll be sworn thou art; [Erit. Thy tongue, thy face, thy limbs, actions, and spirit, To creep in at mine eyes. Well, let it be.- Re-enter MALVOLIO. Mal. Here, madam, at your service. Oli. Run after that same peevish messenger, Nor hold him up with hopes; I am not for him: |
