He's coming, madam:
But in very strange manner. He is sure possessed.
Why, what's the matter? does he rave?
No, madam, he does nothing but smile: your ladyship were
best to have some guard about you if he come;
For, sure, the man is tainted in his wits.
Go call him hither.--I'm as mad as he,
If sad and merry madness equal be.--
How now, Malvolio?
Sweet lady, ho, ho.
I sent for thee upon a sad occasion.
Sad, lady? I could be sad: this does make some
obstruction in the blood, this cross-gartering. But what of that?
If it please the eye of one, it is with me as the very true
sonnet is: 'Please one and please all.'
Why, how dost thou, man? what is the matter with thee?
Not black in my mind, though yellow in my legs.
It did come to his hands, and commands shall be executed.
I think we do know the sweet Roman hand.