OLIVIA.
Well, sir, for want of other idleness, I'll bide your proof.
CLOWN.
Good madonna, why mourn'st thou?
OLIVIA.
Good fool, for my brother's death.
CLOWN.
I think his soul is in hell, madonna.
OLIVIA.
I know his soul is in heaven, fool.
CLOWN.
The more fool, madonna, to mourn for your brother's soul being in
heaven. Take away the fool, gentlemen.
OLIVIA.
What think you of this fool, Malvolio? doth he not mend?
MALVOLIO.
Yes, and shall do till the pangs of death shake him. Infirmity,
that decays the wise, doth ever make the better fool.
CLOWN.
God send you, sir, a speedy infirmity, for the better increasing
your folly! Sir Toby will be sworn that I am no fox; but he will
not pass his word for twopence that you are no fool.
OLIVIA.
How say you to that, Malvolio?
MALVOLIO.
I marvel your ladyship takes delight in such a barren rascal; I
saw him put down the other day with an ordinary fool that has no
more brain than a stone. Look you now, he's out of
his guard already; unless you laugh and minister occasion to him,
he is gagg'd. I protest, I take these wise men, that crow so at
these set kind of fools, no better than the fools' zanies.
