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Enter Viola and Clown with a tabor.
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VIOLA. Save thee, friend, and thy music. Dost thou live by thy tabor?
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CLOWN. No, sir, I live by the church.
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VIOLA. Art thou a churchman?
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CLOWN. 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.
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VIOLA. So thou mayst 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.
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CLOWN. 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!
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VIOLA. Nay, that’s certain; they that dally nicely with words may quickly make them wanton.
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CLOWN. I would, therefore, my sister had had no name, sir.
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VIOLA. Why, man?
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CLOWN. 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 disgraced them.
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VIOLA. Thy reason, man?
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CLOWN. Troth, sir, I can yield you none without words, and words are grown so false, I am loath to prove reason with them.
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VIOLA. I warrant thou art a merry fellow, and car’st for nothing.
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CLOWN. 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.
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VIOLA. Art not thou the Lady Olivia’s fool?
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CLOWN. 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.
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VIOLA. I saw thee late at the Count Orsino’s.
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CLOWN. Foolery, sir, does walk about the orb like the sun; it shines everywhere. 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.
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VIOLA. Nay, and thou pass upon me, I’ll no more with thee. Hold, there’s expenses for thee.
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CLOWN. Now Jove, in his next commodity of hair, send thee a beard!
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VIOLA. 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?
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CLOWN. Would not a pair of these have bred, sir?
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VIOLA. Yes, being kept together, and put to use.
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CLOWN. I would play Lord Pandarus of Phrygia, sir, to bring a Cressida to this Troilus.
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VIOLA. I understand you, sir; ’tis well begged.
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CLOWN. 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 are out of my welkin. I might say “element”, but the word is overworn. [_Exit._]
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VIOLA. 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 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-fall’n, quite taint their wit. Enter Sir Toby and Sir Andrew.
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SIR TOBY. Save you, gentleman.
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VIOLA. And you, sir.
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SIR ANDREW. _Dieu vous garde, monsieur._
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VIOLA. _Et vous aussi; votre serviteur._
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SIR ANDREW. I hope, sir, you are, and I am yours.