he hath known you but three days, and already you are no stranger.

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? Val. No, believe me.

Vio. I thank you. Here comes the count.

Enter DUKE, CURIO, and Attendants.

Duke. Who saw Cesario, ho?

Vio. On your attendance, my lord; here.
Duke. Stand you awhile aloof.-Cesario,
Thou know'st no less but all; I have unclasped
To thee the book even of my secret soul:
Therefore, good youth, address thy gait unto her;
Be not denied access, stand at her doors,

And tell them, there thy fixéd foot shall grow
Till thou have audience.

Vio.

Sure, my noble lord,

If she be so abandoned to her sorrow

As it is spoke, she never will admit me.

Duke. Be clamorous, and leap all civil bounds Rather than make unprofited return.

Vio. Say, I do speak with her, my lord, what then?

Surprise 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.

Vio. I think not so, my lord.

Duke.

Dear lad, believe it;

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

Is not more smooth and rubious; thy small pipe
Is as the maiden's organ, shrill in sound,
And all is semblative a woman's part.

I know, thy constellation is right apt

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

When least in company.-Prosper 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 :-[aside] yet, a barful strife! Whoe'er I woo, myself would be his wife. [Exeunt.

SCENE V.-A Room in 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.

thee for thy absence.

My lady will hang

Clo. Let her hang me: he that is well hanged in this world needs to fear no colours.

Mar. Make that good.

Clo. He shall see none to fear.

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 hanged for being so long absent; or, to be turned away,-is not that as good as a hanging to you?

Clo. Many a good hanging prevents a bad marriage; and, for turning away, let summer bear it

out.

Clo. Not so neither; but I am resolved 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 Sir Toby would leave drinking, thou wert as witty a piece of Eve's flesh as any in Illyria.

Here Mar. Peace, you rogue, no more o' that. comes my lady: make your excuse wisely, you were best.

[Exit.

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 sure I lack thee, may pass for a wise man for what says Quinapalus ? Better a witty fool than a foolish

wit.

Enter OLIVIA and MALVOLIO.

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

counsel will amend then is the fool not dry; bid the dishonest man mend himself: if he mend, he is no longer dishonest; if he cannot, let the botcher mend him : anything that's mended is but patched virtue that transgresses is but patched with sin; and sin that amends is but patched with virtue. If that this simple syllogism will serve, so; 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

for give the dry fool drink,

away.

Oli. Sir, I bade them take away you.

Clo. Misprision in the highest degree !-Lady, cucullus non facit monachum: that's as much to say as, I wear not motley in my brain. Good madonna, give me leave to prove you a fool. Oli. Can you do it?

Clo. Dexteriously, good madonna.

Oli. Make your proof.

Clo. I must catechise you for it, madonna. Good

my mouse of virtue, answer me.

Oli. Well, sir, for want of other idleness, I'll

bide your proof.

Clo. Good madonna, why mourn'st thou ?

Oli. Good fool, for my brother's dooth