Twelfth Night

battle of wits by an ordinary jester with no more brains than a rock. Look at him, he’s at a loss for words already. Unless he’s got somebody laughing at him, he can’t think of anything to say. I swear, anyone smart who laughs at these courts jesters is nothing but a jester’s apprentice.

Malvolio, your vanity is damaging your good taste. If you were generous, innocent, and good-natured, you wouldn’t get so upset by what the fool says. You’d think of his wisecracks as harmless little firecrackers, not hurtful bullets. A court jester isn’t really criticizing people, even if he does nothing but make fun of them all day long. And a wise person doesn’t make fun of people, even if all he does is criticize them.

You speak so highly of fools! I hope the god of deception rewards you by making you a wonderful liar.

Madam, there’s a young gentleman at the gate who really wants to speak to you.

Was he sent by Count Orsino?

I don’t know, madam. He’s a good-looking young man, and there are a lot of people with him.

Who’s talking to him now?

Sir Toby, madam, your relative.

Send Toby away, please. He talks nothing but nonsense.