To. To him in thine owne voyce, and bring me word how thou findst him: I would we were well ridde of this knauery. If he may bee conueniently deliuer'd, I would he were, for I am now so farre in offence with my Niece, that I cannot pursue with any safety this sport the vppeshot. Come by and by to my Chamber. Exit Clo. Hey Robin, iolly Robin, tell me how thy Lady does Mal. Foole Clo. My Lady is vnkind, perdie Mal. Foole Clo. Alas why is she so? Mal. Foole, I say Clo. She loues another. Who calles, ha? Mal. Good foole, as euer thou wilt deserue well at my hand, helpe me to a Candle, and pen, inke, and paper: as I am a Gentleman, I will liue to bee thankefull to thee for't Clo. M[aster]. Maluolio? Mal. I good Foole Clo. Alas sir, how fell you besides your fiue witts? Mall. Foole, there was neuer man so notoriouslie abus'd: I am as well in my wits (foole) as thou art Clo. But as well: then you are mad indeede, if you be no better in your wits then a foole Mal. They haue heere propertied me: keepe mee in darkenesse, send Ministers to me, Asses, and doe all they can to face me out of my wits Clo. Aduise you what you say: the Minister is heere. Maluolio, Maluolio, thy wittes the heauens restore: endeauour thy selfe to sleepe, and leaue thy vaine bibble babble Mal. Sir Topas Clo. Maintaine no words with him good fellow. Who I sir, not I sir. God buy you good sir Topas: Marry Amen. I will sir, I will Mal. Foole, foole, foole I say Clo. Alas sir be patient. What say you sir, I am shent for speaking to you Mal. Good foole, helpe me to some light, and some paper, I tell thee I am as well in my wittes, as any man in Illyria Clo. Well-a-day, that you were sir Mal. By this hand I am: good foole, some inke, paper, and light: and conuey what I will set downe to my Lady: it shall aduantage thee more, then euer the bearing of Letter did Clo. I will help you too't. But tel me true, are you not mad indeed, or do you but counterfeit Mal. Beleeue me I am not, I tell thee true Clo. Nay, Ile nere beleeue a madman till I see his brains I will fetch you light, and paper, and inke Mal. Foole, Ile requite it in the highest degree: I prethee be gone Clo. I am gone sir, and anon sir, Ile be with you againe: In a trice, like to the old vice, your neede to sustaine. Who with dagger of lath, in his rage and his wrath, cries ah ha, to the diuell: Like a mad lad, paire thy nayles dad, Adieu good man diuell. Exit Scaena Tertia. Enter Sebastian.