Ol. O you are sicke of selfe-loue Maluolio, and taste with a distemper'd appetite. To be generous, guiltlesse, and of free disposition, is to take those things for Bird-bolts, that you deeme Cannon bullets: There is no slander in an allow'd foole, though he do nothing but rayle; nor no rayling, in a knowne discreet man, though hee do nothing but reproue
Clo. Now Mercury indue thee with leasing, for thou speak'st well of fooles. Enter Maria.
Mar. Madam, there is at the gate, a young Gentleman,
much desires to speake with you
Ol. From the Count Orsino, is it?
Ma I know not (Madam) 'tis a faire young man, and
well attended
Ol. Who of my people hold him in delay?
Ma. Sir Toby Madam, your kinsman
Ol. Fetch him off I pray you, he speakes nothing but madman: Fie on him. Go you Maluolio; If it be a suit from the Count, I am sicke, or not at home. What you will, to dismisse it.
Exit Maluo.
Now you see sir, how your fooling growes old, & people dislike it
Clo. Thou hast spoke for vs (Madona) as if thy eldest sonne should be a foole: whose scull, Ioue cramme with braines, for heere he comes. Enter Sir Toby.
One of thy kin has a most weake Pia-mater