The Bodleian First Folio

Ile stay a moneth longer. I am a fellow o'th

strangest minde i'th world: I delight in Maskes and Re­

uels sometimes altogether.

Art thou good at these kicke‑chawses Knight ?

As any man in Illyria, whatsoeuer he be, vnder

the degree of my betters, & yet I will not compare with

an old man.

What is thy excellence in a galliard, knight?

Faith, I can cut a caper.

And I can cut the Mutton too't.

And I thinke I haue the backe‑tricke, simply as

strong as any man in Illyria.

Wherefore are these things hid? Wherefore haue

these gifts a Curtaine before 'em? Are they like to take

dust, like mistris Mals picture? Why dost thou not goe

to Church in a Galliard, and come home in a Carranto ?

My verie walke should be a Iigge: I would not so much

as make water but in a Sinke‑a‑pace: What dooest thou

meane? Is it a world to hide vertues in? I did thinke by

the excellent constitution of thy legge, it was form'd vn­

der the starre of a Galliard.

I, 'tis strong, and it does indifferent well in a

dam'd colour'd stocke. Shall we sit about some Reuels?

What shall we do else: were we not borne vnder

Taurus?

Taurus? That sides and heart.

No sir, it is leggs and thighes: let me see thee ca­

per. Ha, higher: ha, ha, excellent.

If the Duke continue these fauours towards you

Cesario, you are like to be much aduanc'd, he hath known

you but three dayes, and already you are no stranger.

You either feare his humour, or my negligence,

that you call in question the continuance of his loue. Is

he inconstant sir, in his fauours.

No beleeue me.

I thanke you: heere comes the Count.

Who saw Cesario hoa?

On your attendance my Lord heere.

Say I do speake with her (my Lord) what then?

I thinke not so, my Lord.

Nay, either tell me where thou hast bin, or I will

not open my lippes so wide as a brissle may enter, in way

of thy excuse: my Lady will hang thee for thy absence.

Let her hang me: hee that is well hang'de in this

world, needs to feare no colours.

Make that good.

He shall see none to feare.

A good lenton answer: I can tell thee where y t

saying was borne, of I feare no colours.

Where good mistris Mary?

In the warrs, & that may you be bolde to say in

your foolerie.

Well, God giue them wisedome that haue it: &

those that are fooles, let them vse their talents.

Yet you will be hang'd for being so long absent,

or to be turn'd away: is not that as good as a h nging to

you?

Many a good hanging, preuents a bad marriage:

and for turning away, let summer beare it out.

You are resolute then?

Not so neyther, but I am resolu'd on two points

That if one breake, the other will hold: or if both

breake, your gaskins fall.

Apt in good faith, very apt: well go thy way, if

sir Toby would leaue drinking, thou wert as witty a piece

of Eues flesh, as any in Illyria.

Peace you rogue, no more o'that: here comes my

Lady: make your excuse wisely, you were best.

Wit, and't be thy will, put me into good fooling:

those wits that thinke they haue thee, doe very oft proue

fooles: and I that am sure I lacke thee, may passe for a

wise man. For what saies Quinapalus, Better a witty foole,

then a foolish wit. God blesse thee Lady.

Take the foole away.

Do you not heare fellowes, take away the Ladie.

Go too, y'are a dry foole: Ile no more of you: be­

sides you grow dis‑honest.

Two faults Madona, that drinke & good counsell

wil amend: for giue the dry foole drink, then is the foole

not dry: bid the dishonest man mend himself, if he mend,

he is no longer dishonest; if hee cannot, let the Botcher

mend him: any thing that's mended, is but patch'd: vertu

that transgresses, is but patcht with sinne, and sin that a­

mends, is but patcht with vertue. If that this simple

Sillogisme will serue, so: if it will not, vvhat what remedy?