Sir To.

Come thy ways, Signior Fabian.

Fab.

Nay, I'll come: if I lose a scruple of this sport, let me be boiled ^note to death with melancholy.

Sir To.

Wouldst thou not be glad to have the niggardly rascally sheep-biter come by some notable shame?

Fab.

I would exult, man: you know, he brought me out o' ^note favour with my lady about a bear-baiting here.

Sir To.

To anger him we'll have the bear again; and we will fool him black and blue: shall we not, Sir Andrew?

Sir And.

An ^note we do not, it is ^note pity of our lives.

Sir To.

Here comes the little villain.

Mar.

Get ye all three into the box-tree: Malvolio's coming down this walk: he has been yonder i' the sun practising behaviour to his own shadow this half hour: observe him, for the love of mockery; for I know this letter will make a contemplative idiot of him. Close, in the ^notename of jesting! Lie thou there [throws down a letter ^note]; for here comes the trout that must be caught with tickling.

Mal.

'Tis but fortune; all is fortune. Maria once told me she did affect me: and I have heard herself come thus near, that, should she fancy, it should be one of my complexion. Besides, she uses me with a more exalted respect than any one else that follows her. What should I think on't?

Sir To.

Here's an overweening rogue!

Fab.

O, peace! Contemplation makes a rare turkeycock of him: how he jets under his advanced plumes!

Sir And.

'Slight ^note, I could so beat the rogue!

Sir To. ^note

Peace, I say.

Mal.

To be Count Malvolio!

Sir To.

Ah, rogue!

Sir And.

Pistol him, pistol him.

Sir To. ^note

Peace, peace!

Mal.

There is example for't; the lady of the Strachy ^note married the yeoman of the wardrobe ^note.

Sir And.

Fie on him ^note, Jezebel!

Fab.

O, peace! now he's deeply in: look how imagination blows him.

Mal.

Having been three months married to her, sitting in my state,—

Sir To.

O, for a stone-bow, to hit him in the eye!

Mal.

Calling my officers about me, in my branched velvet gown; having come from a day-bed, where I have left Olivia sleeping,—

Sir To.

Fire and brimstone!

Fab.

O, peace, peace!

Mal.

And then to have the humour ^note of state; and after a demure travel of regard, telling them I know my place as I would they should do theirs, to ask for my kinsman ^note Toby,—

Sir To.

Bolts and shackles!

Fab.

O, peace, peace, peace! now, now.

Mal.

Seven of my people, with an obedient start, make out for him: I frown the while; and perchance wind up my watch, or play with my—some ^note rich jewel. Toby approaches; courtesies there to me,—

Sir To.

Shall this fellow live?

Fab.

Though our silence be drawn from us with cars ^{note note}, yet peace.

Mal.

I extend my hand to him thus, quenching my familiar smile with an austere regard of control,—

Sir To.

And does not Toby take you a blow o' the lips then?

Mal.

Saying, ‘Cousin ^note Toby, my fortunes having cast me on your niece give me this prerogative of speech,’—

Sir To.

What, what?

Mal.

‘You must amend your drunkenness.’

Sir To.

Out, scab!

Fab.

Nay, patience, or we break the sinews of our plot.

Mal.

‘Besides, you waste the treasure of your time with a foolish knight,’—

Sir And.

That's me, I warrant you.

Mal.

‘One Sir Andrew,’—

Sir And.

I knew 'twas I; for many do call me fool.

Mal.

What employment ^note have we here?

Fab.

Now is the woodcock near the gin.

Sir To.

O, peace! and ^note the spirit of humours intimate reading aloud to him!

Mal.

By my life, this is my lady's hand: these be her very C's, her U's and her T's; and thus makes she her great P's. It is, in contempt of question, her hand.

Sir And.

Her C's, her U's and her T's: why that?

Mal. [reads ^note]

To the unknown beloved, this, and my good wishes:—her very phrases! By your leave, wax. Soft! ^note and the impressure her Lucrece, with which she uses to seal: 'tis my lady. To whom should this be?

Fab.

This wins him, liver and all.

Mal.

[reads ^note]
Jove knows I love:
  But who? ^note
Lips, ^note do not move;
No man must know ^note.

‘No man must know.’ What follows? the numbers altered! ^note
‘No man must know:’ if this should be thee, Malvolio?

Sir To.

Marry, hang thee, brock!

Mal. [reads ^note]
I may command where I adore;
  But silence, like a Lucrece knife ^note,
  With bloodless stroke my heart doth gore:
  M, O, A, I, doth sway my life ^note.

Fab.

A fustian riddle!

Sir To.

Excellent wench, say I.

Mal.

‘M, O, A, I, doth sway my life.’ Nay, but first, let me see, let me see, let me see ^note.

Fab.

What dish o' ^note poison has she dressed him!

Sir To.

And with what wing the staniel ^note checks at it!

Mal.

‘I may command where I adore.’ Why, she may command me: I serve her; she is my lady. Why, this is evident to any formal capacity; there is no obstruction in this: and the end,—what should that alphabetical position portend? If I could make that resemble something in me,— ^noteSoftly! M, O, A, I,—

Sir To.

O, ay, make up ^note that: he is now at a cold scent.

Fab.

Sowter will cry upon't for all this, though it be ^note as rank as a fox.

Mal.

M,—Malvolio; M,—why, that begins my name ^note.

Fab.

Did not I say he would work it out? the cur is excellent at faults.

Mal.

M,—but then there is no consonancy in the sequel; ^note that suffers ^note under probation: A should follow, but O does.

Fab.

And O shall end, I hope.

Sir To.

Ay, or I'll cudgel him, and make him cry O!

Mal.

And then I comes behind.

Fab.

Ay, an ^note you had any eye behind you, you might see more detraction at your heels than fortunes before you.

Mal.

M, O, A, I; this simulation ^note is not as the former: and yet, to crush this a little, it would bow to me ^note, for every one of these letters are ^note in my name. Soft! here follows prose.

If this fall into thy hand, revolve. In my stars I am above thee; but be not afraid of greatness: some are born ^note great, some achieve ^note greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon 'em ^note. Thy Fates open their hands; let thy blood and spirit embrace them; and, to inure thyself to what thou art like to be, ^note cast thy humble slough and appear fresh. Be opposite with a kinsman, surly with servants; let thy tongue tang ^note arguments of state; put thyself into the trick of singularity: she thus advises thee that sighs for thee. Remember who commended thy yellow stockings, and wished to see thee ever cross-gartered: I say, remember. Go to, thou art made, if thou desirest to be so; if not, let me see thee a steward still, the fellow of servants, and not worthy to touch Fortune's fingers. Farewell. She that would alter services with thee,

The Fortunate-Unhappy.

Daylight ^note and champain ^note discovers not ^note more: this is open. I will be proud, I will read politic ^note authors, I will baffle Sir Toby, I will wash off gross acquaintance, I will be point-devise ^note the very man. I do not now ^note fool myself, to let imagination jade me; for every ^note reason excites to this, that my lady

loves me. She did commend my yellow stockings of late, she did praise my leg being cross-gartered; and in this she manifests herself to my love, and with a kind of ^note injunction drives me to these habits of her liking. I thank my stars I am happy. I will be strange, stout ^note, in yellow stockings ^note, and cross-gartered, even with the swiftness of putting on. Jove and my stars be praised! Here is yet a postscript.

Thou canst not choose but know who I am. If thou entertainest my love, let it appear in thy smiling; thy smiles become thee well; therefore in my presence still smile, dear ^note my sweet, I prithee. Jove, I thank thee: I will smile; I will do every thing that thou wilt have me.

Fab.

I will not give my part of this sport for a pension of thousands to be paid from the Sophy.

Sir To.

I could marry this wench for this device.

Sir And.

So ^note could I too.

Sir To.

And ask no other dowry with her but such another jest.

Sir And.

Nor I neither.

Fab.

Here comes my noble gull-catcher.

Sir To.

Wilt thou set thy foot o' my neck?

Sir And.

Or o' mine either?

Sir To.

Shall I play my freedom at ^note tray-trip, and become thy bond-slave?

Sir And.

I' faith, or I either?

Sir To.

Why, thou hast put him in such a dream, that when the image of it leaves him he must run mad.

Mar.

Nay, but say true; does it work upon him?

Sir To.

Like aqua-vitæ with a midwife.

Mar.

If you will then see the fruits of the sport, mark his first approach before my lady: he will come to her in yellow stockings, and 'tis a colour she abhors, and cross-gartered, a fashion she detests; and he will smile upon her,

which will now be so unsuitable to her disposition, being addicted to a melancholy ^note as she is, that it cannot but turn him into a notable contempt. If you will see it, follow me.

Sir To.

To the gates of Tartar ^note, thou most excellent devil of wit!

Sir And.

I'll make one too.