Olivia's Garden.
 Enter SIR TOBY BELCH, SIR ANDREW AGUECHEEK, and FABIAN.

Sir Toby	Come thy ways, Signor Fabian.

Fabian	Nay, I'll come. If I lose a scruple of this sport let me be 
	boiled to death with melancholy.

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

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

Sir Toby	To anger him we'll have the bear again, and we will fool him 
	black and blue. Shall we not, Sir Andrew?

Sir Andrew	An we do not, it is pity of our lives.

                               Enter MARIA.

Sir Toby	Here comes the little villain. How now, my metal of India!

Maria	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 name of jesting!
														[The MEN hide.
														MARIA drops a letter.

	Lie thou there; for here comes the trout that must be caught 
	with tickling.
														[Exit.
                             Enter MALVOLIO.

Malvolio	'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 anyone else 
	that follows her. What should I think on't?

Sir Toby	Here's an overweening rogue!

Fabian	O, peace! Contemplation makes a rare turkey cock of him. How 
	he jets under his advanced plumes!

Sir Andrew	'Slight, I could so beat the rogue!

Sir Toby	Peace, I say!

Malvolio	To be Count Malvolio.

Sir Toby	Ah, rogue!

Sir Andrew	Pistol him, pistol him!

Sir Toby	Peace, peace.

Malvolio	There is example for't: the Lady of the Strachy married the 
	yeoman of the wardrobe.

Sir Andrew	Fie on him, Jezebel!

Fabian	O peace! Now he's deeply in; look how imagination blows him.

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

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

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

Sir Toby	Fire and brimstone!

Fabian	O peace, peace!

Malvolio	And then to have the humour 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 Toby-

Sir Toby	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 my watch, or 
	play with my - some rich jewel. Toby approaches, curtsies 
	there to me-

Sir Toby	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 a austere regard of control-

Sir Toby	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	What, what?

Malvolio	"You must amend your drunkenness."

Sir Toby	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	[Seeing the letter.] What employment have we here?

Fabian	Now is the woodcock near the gin.

Sir Toby	O, peace; and the spirit of humours intimate reading aloud 
	to him!

Malvolio	[Taking up the letter.] 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!
														[He opens the letter.
	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	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 dressed 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.

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

	[Reads.]	"If this fall into thy hand, revolve. In my stars I 
	am above thee, but be not afraid of greatness. Some are born 
	great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness 
	thrust upon 'em. Thy fates open their hands, let thy blood 
	and spirit embrace them; and, to inure thyself to what thou 
	art like to be, cast thy humble slough and appear fresh. Be 
	opposite with a kinsman, surly with servants. Let thy tongue 
	tang 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 desir'st 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 and champian discovers not more. This is open. I 
	will be proud, I will read politic authors, I will baffle 
	Sir Toby, I will wash off gross acquaintance, I will be 
	point-devise the very man. I do not now fool myself, to let 
	imagination jade me, for every 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 
	injunction drives me to these habits of her liking. I thank 
	my stars, I am happy. I will be strange, stout, in yellow 
	stockings, and cross-gartered, even with the swiftness of 
	putting on. Jove and my stars be praised! Here is yet a 
	postscript.

	[Reads.]	"Thou canst not choose but know who I am. If thou 
	entertain'st my love, let it appear in thy smiling; thy 
	smiles become thee well. Therefore in my presence still 
	smile, dear my sweet, I prithee."

	Jove, I thank thee. I will smile; I will do everything that 
	thou wilt have me.
														[Exit.

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

Sir Toby	I could marry this wench for this device.

Sir Andrew	So could I too.

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

                             Re-enter MARIA.

Sir Andrew	Nor I neither.

Fabian	Here comes my noble gull-catcher.

Sir Toby	Wilt thou set thy foot o' my neck?

Sir Andrew	Or o' mine either?

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

Sir Andrew	I'faith, or I either?

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

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

Sir Toby	Like aqua-vitae with a midwife.

Maria	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 as she is, that it cannot but turn him into 
	a notable contempt. If you will see it, follow me.

Sir Toby	To the gates of Tartar, thou most excellent devil of wit.

Sir Andrew	I'll make one too.
														[Exeunt.
