Act 2, Scene V - Page 2

place as I would they should do theirs, to for my
kinsman Toby,--

SIR TOBY BELCH
Bolts and shackles!

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

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

SIR TOBY BELCH
Shall this fellow live?

FABIAN
Though our silence be drawn from us with cars, yet peace.

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

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

MALVOLIO
Saying, 'Cousin Toby, my fortunes having cast me on
your niece give me this prerogative of speech,'--

SIR TOBY BELCH
What, what?

MALVOLIO
'You must amend your drunkenness.'

SIR TOBY BELCH
Out, scab!

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

MALVOLIO
'Besides, you waste the treasure of your time with
a foolish knight,'--

SIR ANDREW
That's me, I warrant you.

MALVOLIO
'One Sir Andrew,'--

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

MALVOLIO
What employment have we here?

Taking up the letter

FABIAN
Now is the woodcock near the gin.

SIR TOBY BELCH
O, peace! and the spirit of humour intimate reading
aloud to him!

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: 'tis 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
altered! 'No man must know:' if this should be
thee, Malvolio?

SIR TOBY BELCH
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 BELCH
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 dressed him!

SIR