Viola.

Save thee, Friend, and thy musick. Dost thou live by thy Tabor?

Clo.

No, Sir, I live by the Church.

Vio.

Art thou a Churchman?

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 lyes 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 sentence is but a chev'ril glove 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 disgrac'd 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 not thou 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 Pilchers 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 Duke 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 almost 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?

Vio.

Yes, being kept together, and put to use.

Clo.

I would play lord Pandarus^{1 note} of Phrygia, Sir, to bring a Cressida to this Troylus.

Vio.

I 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 conster to them whence you come; who you are, and what you would, is out of my welkin; I might say, element; but the word is over-worn.

Vio.
This fellow is 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 the 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 shews, is fit;
But wise men's folly fall'n,^{2 note} quite taints their wit.

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