Ol. What thinke you of this foole Maluolio, doth he not mend? Mal. Yes, and shall do, till the pangs of death shake him: Infirmity that decaies the wise, doth euer make the better foole Clow. God send you sir, a speedie Infirmity, for the better increasing your folly: Sir Toby will be sworn that I am no Fox, but he wil not passe his word for two pence that you are no Foole Ol. How say you to that Maluolio? Mal. I maruell your Ladyship takes delight in such a barren rascall: I saw him put down the other day, with an ordinary foole, that has no more braine then a stone. Looke you now, he's out of his gard already: vnles you laugh and minister occasion to him, he is gag'd. I protest I take these Wisemen, that crow so at these set kinde of fooles, no better then the fooles Zanies 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 Ol. By mine honor halfe drunke. What is he at the gate Cosin? To. A Gentleman Ol. A Gentleman? What Gentleman? To. 'Tis a Gentleman heere. A plague o'these pickle herring: How now Sot Clo. Good Sir Toby Ol. Cosin, Cosin, how haue you come so earely by this Lethargie? To. Letcherie, I defie Letchery: there's one at the gate Ol. I marry, what is he? To. Let him be the diuell and he will, I care not: giue me faith say I. Well, it's all one. Exit Ol. What's a drunken man like, foole? Clo. Like a drown'd man, a foole, and a madde man: One draught aboue heate, makes him a foole, the second maddes him, and a third drownes him Ol. Go thou and seeke the Crowner, and let him sitte o'my Coz: for he's in the third degree of drinke: hee's drown'd: go looke after him Clo. He is but mad yet Madona, and the foole shall looke to the madman. Enter Maluolio.