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Samuel Johnson [1765], The plays of William Shakespeare, in eight volumes, with the corrections and illustrations of Various Commentators; To which are added notes by Sam. Johnson (Printed for J. and R. Tonson [and] C. Corbet [etc.], London) [word count] [S11001].
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SCENE IV.


Clo.

Hey Robin, jolly Robin, tell me how my lady does.

[Singing.

Mal.

Fool—

Clo.

My lady is unkind, perdie.

-- 430 --

Mal.

Fool,—

Clo.

Alas, why is she so?

Mal.

Fool, I say;—

Clo.

She loves another—who calls, ha?

Mal.

Good fool, as ever thou wilt deserve well at my hand, help me to a candle, and pen, ink, and paper; as I am a gentleman, I will live to be thankful to thee for't.

Clo.

Mr. Malvolio!

Mal.

Ay, good fool,

Clo.

Alas, Sir, how fell you besides your five wits?

Mal.

Fool, there was never man so notoriously abus'd; I am as well in my wits, fool, as thou art.

Clo.

But as well! then thou art mad, indeed, if you be no better in your wits than a fool.

Mal.

They have here 4 notepropertied me; keep me in darkness, send ministers to me, asses, and do all they can to face me out of my wits.

Clo.

Advise you what you say: the minister is here. Malvolio, Malvolio, thy wits the heav'ns restore: endeavour thyself to sleep, and leave thy vain bibble babble.

Mal.

Sir Topas,—

Clo.
* noteMaintain no words with him, good fellow.—
Who, I, Sir? not, I, Sir. God b'w'you, good Sir Topas
Marry, amen.—I will, Sir, I will.

Mal.
Fool, fool, fool, I say.

Clo.

Alas, Sir, be patient. What say you, Sir? I am shent for speaking to you.

Mal.

Good fool, help me to some light, and some paper; I tell thee, I am as well in my wits, as any man in Illyria.

-- 431 --

Clo.

Well-a-day—that you were, Sir!

Mal.

By this hand, I am. Good fool, some ink, paper and light; and convey what I set down to my Lady: It shall advantage thee more than ever the bearing of letter did.

Clo.

I will help you to't. But tell me true, are you not mad, indeed, or do you but counterfeit?5 note

Mal.

Believe me, I am not: I tell thee true.

Clo.

Nay, I'll ne'er believe a mad-man, 'till I see his brains. I will fetch you light, and paper, and ink.

Mal.
Fool, I'll requite it in the highest degree;
I pr'ythee, be gone.

Clo.
I am gone, Sir, and anon, Sir, [Singing.
  I'll be with you again
In a trice, like to the old vice,* note
  Your need to sustain:
Who with dagger of lath, in his rage, and his wrath,
  Cries, ah, ha! to the devil:
Like a mad lad, pare thy nails, dad,
  Adieu, good man drivel.
[Exit.
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Samuel Johnson [1765], The plays of William Shakespeare, in eight volumes, with the corrections and illustrations of Various Commentators; To which are added notes by Sam. Johnson (Printed for J. and R. Tonson [and] C. Corbet [etc.], London) [word count] [S11001].
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