MALVOLIO. 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 ANDREW. Her C's, her U's, and her T's; why that? MALVOLIO. [Reads] To the unknown beloved, this, and my good wishes:-- her very phrases! By your leave, wax. Soft! and the impressure her Lucrece, with which she uses to seal; 't is my lady. To whom should this be? FABIAN. This wins him, liver and all. MALVOLIO. [Reads] Jove knows I love; But who? Lips, do not move; No man must know. 'No man must know.' What follows? the numbers alter'd! 'No man must know.' If this should be thee, Malvolio? SIR TOBY. Marry, hang thee, brock! MALVOLIO. [Reads] I may command where I adore; But silence, like a Lucrece knife, With bloodless stroke my heart doth gore: M, O, A, I, doth sway my life. FABIAN. A fustian riddle! SIR TOBY. Excellent wench, say I. MALVOLIO. 'M, O, A, I, doth sway my life.' Nay, but first, let me see, let me see, let me see. FABIAN. What dish o' poison has she dress'd him! SIR TOBY. And with what wing the staniel checks at it! MALVOLIO. '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!-- Softly! M, O, A, I,-- SIR TOBY. O, ay, make up that; he is now at a cold scent. FABIAN. Sowter will cry upon 't for all this, though it be as rank as a fox. MALVOLIO. M,-- Malvolio; M,--why, that begins my name. FABIAN. Did not I say he would work it out? the cur is excellent at faults. MALVOLIO. M,-- but then there is no consonancy in the sequel; that suffers under probation: A should follow, but O does. FABIAN. And O shall end, I hope. SIR TOBY. Ay, or I 'll cudgel him, and make him cry O! MALVOLIO. And then I comes behind. FABIAN. Ay, an you had any eye behind you, you might see more detraction at your heels than fortunes before you.