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.
[Exit Malvolio.]
Now you see, sir, how your fooling grows old, and people dislike it.
CLOWN.
Thou hast spoke for us, madonna, as if thy eldest son should be a fool: whose skull Jove cram with brains, for here he comes, one of thy kin has a most weak pia mater.