_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 have we here? [_Taking up the letter._ _Fab._ Now is the woodcock near the gin. _Sir To._ O peace! an 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._] _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: 'tis my lady: To whom should this be? [_Opens the letter._] _Fab._ This wins him, liver and all. _Mal._ [_Reads._] _Jove knows, I love: But who? Lips do not move, No man must know. No man must know._--If this should be thee, Malvolio? _Sir To._ Marry, hang thee, brock! _Mal._ [_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_. _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. _Fab._ What a dish of poison has she dressed him! _Sir To._ And with what wing the stanniel 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.--Softly!--M,O,A,I. _Sir To._ O, ay! make up that:--he is now at a cold scent. _Mal._ _M_,--Malvolio;--_M_,--why, that begins my name. _Fab._ I thought he would work it out: the cur is excellent at faults. _Mal._ _M_,--But then there is no consonancy in the sequel; that suffers 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 you had any eye behind you, you might see more detraction at your heels, than fortunes before you.