To. Shall this fellow liue? Fa. Though our silence be drawne from vs with cars, yet peace
Mal. I extend my hand to him thus: quenching my familiar smile with an austere regard of controll
To. And do's not Toby take you a blow o'the lippes, then? Mal. Saying, Cosine Toby, my Fortunes hauing cast me on your Neece, giue me this prerogatiue of speech
To. What, what? Mal. You must amend your drunkennesse
To. Out scab
Fab. Nay patience, or we breake the sinewes of our plot? Mal. Besides you waste the treasure of your time, with a foolish knight
And. That's mee I warrant you
Mal. One sir Andrew
And. I knew 'twas I, for many do call mee foole
Mal. What employment haue we heere? Fa. Now is the Woodcocke neere the gin
To. Oh peace, and the spirit of humors intimate reading aloud to him
Mal. By my life this is my Ladies hand: these bee her very C's, her V's, and her T's, and thus makes shee her great P's. It is in contempt of question her hand
An. Her C's, her V's, and her T's: why that? Mal. To the vnknowne belou'd, this, and my good Wishes: Her very Phrases: By your leaue wax. Soft, and the impressure her Lucrece, with which she vses to seale: tis my Lady: To whom should this be? Fab. This winnes him, Liuer and all
Mal. Ioue knowes I loue, but who, Lips do not mooue, no man must know. No man must know. What followes? The numbers alter'd: No man must know, If this should be thee Maluolio? To. Marrie hang thee brocke
Mal. I may command where I adore, but silence like a Lucresse knife: With bloodlesse stroke my heart doth gore, M.O.A.I. doth sway my life
Fa. A fustian riddle
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 dish a poyson has she drest him? To. And with what wing the stallion checkes at it? Mal. I may command, where I adore: Why shee may command me: I serue her, she is my Ladie. Why this is euident to any formall capacitie. There is no obstruction in this, and the end: What should that Alphabeticall position portend, if I could make that resemble something in me? Softly, M.O.A.I
To. O I, make vp that, he is now at a cold sent
Fab. Sowter will cry vpon't for all this, though it bee as ranke as a Fox
Mal. M. Maluolio, M. why that begins my name
Fab. Did not I say he would worke it out, the Curre is excellent at faults
Mal. M. But then there is no consonancy in the sequell that suffers vnder probation: A. should follow, but O. does
Fa. And O shall end, I hope
To. I, or Ile cudgell him, and make him cry O
Mal. And then I. comes behind
Fa. I, and you had any eye behinde you, you might see more detraction at your heeles, then Fortunes before you
Twelfth Night · The Wunder Library — complete classics, free to read, with narration.