OLIVIA. Go to, you're a dry fool; I'll no more of you: besides, you grow dishonest.
CLOWN. Two faults, madonna, that drink and good counsel will amend; for, give the dry fool drink, then is the fool not dry: bid the dishonest man mend himself; if he mend, he is no longer dishonest; if he cannot, let the botcher mend him. Any thing that's mended is but patch'd; virtue that transgresses is but patch'd with sin; and sin that amends is but patch'd with virtue. If that this simple syllogism will serve, so; if it will not, what remedy? As there is no true cuckold but calamity, so beauty's a flower. The lady bade take away the fool; therefore, I say again, take her away.
OLIVIA.
Sir, I bade them take away you.
CLOWN.
Misprision in the highest degree! Lady, cucullus non facit
monachum; that's as much to say as 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?