OLIVIA.
Wilt thou go to bed, Malvolio?
MALVOLIO.
To bed? Ay, sweetheart, and I’ll come to thee.
OLIVIA.
God comfort thee! Why dost thou smile so, and kiss thy hand so oft?
MARIA.
How do you, Malvolio?
MALVOLIO.
At your request? Yes, nightingales answer daws!
MARIA.
Why appear you with this ridiculous boldness before my lady?
MALVOLIO.
‘Be not afraid of greatness.’ ’Twas well writ.
OLIVIA.
What mean’st thou by that, Malvolio?
MALVOLIO.
‘Some are born great’—
OLIVIA.
Ha?