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CLOWN.
Misprision in the highest degree!--Lady, Cucullus non facit
monachum; that's as much to say, I wear not motley in my
brain. Good madonna, give me leave to prove you a fool.
OLIVIA.
Can you do it?
CLOWN.
Dexteriously, good madonna.
OLIVIA.
Make your proof.
CLOWN.
I must catechize you for it, madonna.
Good my mouse of virtue, answer me.
OLIVIA.
Well, sir, for want of other idleness, I'll 'bide your proof.
CLOWN.
Good madonna, why mourn'st thou?
OLIVIA.
Good fool, for my brother's death.
CLOWN.
I think his soul is in hell, madonna.
OLIVIA.
I know his soul is in heaven, fool.
CLOWN.
The more fool you, madonna, to mourn for your brother's soul
being in heaven.--Take away the fool, gentlemen.
OLIVIA.
What think you of this fool, Malvolio? doth he not mend?
MALVOLIO.
Yes; and shall do, till the pangs of death shake him.
Infirmity, that decays the wise, doth ever make the better fool.
CLOWN.
God send you, sir, a speedy infirmity, for the better
increasing your folly! Sir Toby will be sworn that I am no fox;
but he will not pass his word for twopence that you are no fool.
OLIVIA.
How say you to that, Malvolio?
MALVOLIO.
I marvel your ladyship takes delight in such a barren
rascal; I saw 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 occasion to him,
he is gagged. I protest I take these wise men that crow so at
these set kind of fools, no better than the fools' zanies.
OLIVIA.
O, you are sick of self-love, Malvolio, and taste with a
distempered appetite. To be generous, guiltless, and of free
disposition, is to take those things for bird-bolts that you deem
cannon bullets. There is no slander in an allowed fool, though he
do nothing but rail; nor no railing in known discreet man, though
he do nothing but reprove.
CLOWN.
Now Mercury endue thee with leasing, for thou speakest well of
fools!
[Re-enter MARIA.]
MARIA.
Madam, there is at the gate a young gentleman much desires
to speak with you.
OLIVIA.
From the Count Orsino, is it?
MARIA.
I know not, madam; 'tis a fair young man, and well attended.
OLIVIA.
Who of my people hold him in delay?
MARIA.
Sir Toby, madam, your kinsman.
OLIVIA.
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.