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ACT III. SCENE I.
Enter Viola, and Clown, with a tabor. Vio. Save thee, friend, and thy musick: Dost thou live by thy tabor ?
Clo. No, sir, I live by the church.
Clo. No such matter, sir ; I do live by the church : for I do live at my house, and my house doth stand by the church.
Vio. So thou may'st say, the king lies by a beggar, if a beggar dwell near him : or, the church stands by thy tabor, if thy tabor stand by the church.
Clo. You have said, sir.-To see this age!--A sen. tence is but a cheveril glove 41 to a good wit; How quickly the wrong side may be turned outward!
Vio. Nay, that's certain ; they, that dally nicely with words, may quickly make them wanton.
Clo. I would therefore, my sister had had no name, sir.
Vio. Why, man?
Clo. Why, sir, her name's a word; and to dally with that word, might make my sister wanton : But, indeed, words are very rascals, since bonds disgrace them.
Vio. Thy reason, man?
Clo. Troth, sir, I can yield you none without words; and words are grown so false, I am loth to prove reason with them.
Vio. I warrant, thou art a merry fellow, and carest for nothing.
Clo. Not so, sir, I do care for something : but in my conscience, sir, I do not care for you ; if that be to care for nothing, sir, I would it would make you invisible.
Vio. Art thou not the lady Olivia's fool ?
Clo. No, indeed, sir ; the lady Olivia has no folly: she will keep no fool, sir, till she be married; and fools are as like husbands, as pilchards are to herrings, the husband's the bigger : I am, indeed, not her fool, but her corrupter of words.
Vio. I saw thee late at the count Orsino's.
Clo. Foolery, sir, does walk about the orb, like the sun; it shines every where. I would be sorry, sir, but the fool should be as oft with your master, as with my mistress : I think, I saw your wisdom there.
Vio. Nay, an thou pass upon me, I'll no more with thee. Hold, there's expences for thee.
Clo. Now Jove, in his next commodity of hair, send thee a beard !
Vio. By my troth, I'll tell thee; I am almosť sick for one; though I would not have it grow on my chin. Is thy lady within ?
Clo. Would not a pair of these have bred, sir ?
Clo, I would play lord Pandarus of Phrygia, sir, to bring a Cressida to this Troilus.
l'io. understand you, sir ; 'tis well begg'd.
Clo. The matter, I hope, is not great, sir, begging but a beggar ; Cressida was a beggar. My lady is within, sir. I will construe to them whence you come; who you are, and what you would, are out of my welkin : I might say, element; but the word is over-worn.
[Exit. Vio. This fellow's wise enough to play the fool; And, to do that well, craves a kind of wit : He must observe their mood on whom he jests, The quality of persons, and the time; And, like the haggard “, check at every feather That comes before his eye. This is a practice, As full of labour as a wise man's art : For folly, that he wisely shows, is fit; But wise men, folly-fallen, quite taint their wit. Enter Sir Toby Belch, and Sir ANDREW AGUE.
Sir To. Save you, gentleman.
Sir To. Will you encounter the house ? my niece is desirous you should enter, if your trade be to her.
Vio. I am bound to your niece, sir : I mean, she is the list *S of my voyage.
Sir To. Taste your legs, sir, put them to motion.
Vio. My legs do better understand me, sir, than I understand what you mean by bidding me taste my legs.
Sir To. I mean, to go, sir, to enter.
Vio. I will answer you with gait and entrance : But we are prevented.
Enter OLIVIA and MARIA.
Most excellent accomplish'd lady, the heavens rain odours on you!
Sir And. That youth's a rare courtier! Rain odours ! well.
Vio. My matter hath no voice, lady, but to your own most pregnant and vouchsafed ear.
Sir And. Odours, pregnant, and touchsafed : I'll get 'em all three ready.
Oli. Let the garden door be shut, and leave me to my hearing.
[Exeunt Sir Toby, Sir Andrew, and Maria. Give me your hand, sir.
Vio. My duty, madam, and most humble service.
Oli. My servant, sir ! 'Twas never merry world,
Vio. And he is yours, and his must needs be yours; Your servant's servant is your servant, madam.
Oli. For him, I think not on him: for his thoughts, 'Would they were blanks, rather than filled with me!
Vio. Madam, I come to whet your gentle thoughts
O, by your leave, I pray. you ;
hard construction must I sit, To force that on you, in a shameful cunning, Which you knew none of yours : What might you
To one of your
Vio. I pity you,
That's a degree to love.
Oli. Why, then, methinks, 'tis time to smile again : O world, how apt the poor are to be proud!