OLIVIA.
Why, what’s the matter? Does he rave?
MARIA.
No, madam, he does nothing but smile: your ladyship were best to have some guard about you if he come, for sure the man is tainted in ’s wits.
OLIVIA.
Go call him hither. I’m as mad as he,
If sad and merry madness equal be.
Enter Malvolio.
How now, Malvolio?
MALVOLIO.
Sweet lady, ho, ho!
OLIVIA.
Smil’st thou? I sent for thee upon a sad occasion.
MALVOLIO.
Sad, lady? I could be sad: this does make some obstruction in the blood, this cross-gartering. But what of that? If it please the eye of one, it is with me as the very true sonnet is: ‘Please one and please all.’
OLIVIA.
Why, how dost thou, man? What is the matter with thee?
MALVOLIO.
Not black in my mind, though yellow in my legs. It did come to his hands, and commands shall be executed. I think we do know the sweet Roman hand.