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

Clo. Good Madonna, why mourn'ft 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 shake him: Infirmity, that decays the wife, doth ever make the better fool.

Clo. God fend you, fir, a speedy infirmity, for the better encreasing your folly! fir Toby will be 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 such a barren rascal; I faw him put down the other day with an ordinary fool, than has no more brain than a ftone: Look you now, he's out of his guard already; unless you laugh and minifter occafion to him he is gagg'd. I proteft, 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 distemper'd appetite: to be generous, guiltless, and of free disposition, is to take those things for birdbolts, that you deem cannon-bullets: There is no flander in an allow'd fool, though he do nothing but rail;

thefe fet kind of fools,]-fools by profeffion. Pallow'd fool,]

"Go, you are allow'd."

LOVE'S LABOUR LOST, A& V, Sc. 2. Biron.

Nor

nor no railing in a known discreet man, though he do no

thing 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 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 kinfman.

Oli. Fetch him off, I pray you; he speaks nothing but madman; Fie on him! Go you, Malvolio: if it be at fuit from the count, I am fick, or not at home; what you will, to dismiss it. [Exit 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 most 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-[biccuping.]-A plague o'these pickle herring!-How now, fot?

Clo. Good Sir Toby,

a with leafing, for thou speak'ft well of fools!]-fibbing, for thou feigneft a good apology for fools-with learning, fince thou ufeft thy wit in favour of fools.

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.

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

S

[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 feek 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 madman. [Exit Clown.

Re-enter Malvolio.

Mal. Madam, yond young fellow fwears he will speak with you. I told him you were fick; he takes on him to understand so much, and therefore comes to speak with you: I told him you were afleep; he feems to have a foreknowledge 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 shall not fpeak with me.

Mal. He has been told fo; and he fays, he'll ftand at your door like a' fheriff's poft, and be the supporter to a bench, but he'll speak with you.

t

Oli. What kind of man is he?

Mal. Why, of man kind.

Oli. What manner of man?

give me faith, fay 1.]-but faith, and I fear not the devil.
above beat]-the proper degree of.

fb riff's poft,]-fet up there formerly as an indication of his office, and for the purpofe of fixing thereon proclamations, &c.

Mal.

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 codling when 'tis almost an apple: 'tis with him e'en ftanding 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.
Mal. Gentlewoman, my lady calls,

Re-enter Maria.

[Exit.

Oli. Give me my veil: come, throw it o'er my face; We'll once more hear Orfino's embassy.

Enter Viola.

Vio. The honourable lady of the house, which is fhe? Oli. Speak to me, I fhall anfwer 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 loth to caft away my fpeech; for, befides 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 "comptible, even to the least finifter ufage.

Oli. Whence came you, fir?

Vio. I can fay little more than I have studied, and that question's out of my part. Good gentle one, give me modeft affurance, if you be the lady of the house, that I may proceed in my speech.

Oli. Are you a comedian?

" comptible,]-fufceptible of, foon abash'd by the slightest marks of reprehenfion.

Vio. No, my profound heart: and yet, by the very fangs of malice, I fwear I am not that I play. Are you the lady of the house?

Oli. If I do not ufurp myfelf, I am.

Vio. Most certain, if you are fhe, you do ufurp yourfelf; for what is yours to beftow, is not yours to reserve. But this is from my commiffion: I will on with my speech in your praise, and then fhew 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 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 allow'd your approach, rather to wonder at you than to hear you. If you " be mad, be gone; if you have reason, be brief: 'tis not that time of the moon with me, to make one in fo skipping a dialogue.

Mar. Will you hoift fail, fir? here lies your way.

Vio. No, good fwabber; I am to hull here a little longer. Some mollification for your giant, sweet lady. Oli. Tell me your mind.

a

Vio. I am a messenger.

Oli. Sure, you have fome 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.

"The wild fea of my confcience.”

HENRY VIII, A&t II, Se. 4. King.

2 giant,]-ironically applied to the diminutive Maria.

a I am a messenger.]-And as fuch am to communicate the mind of

my employer.