Sir To. Oh, peace! now the fpirit of humours intimate reading aloud to him!

Mal. By my life, this is my Lady's hand: these be her very C's, U's, and her T's, and thus makes fhe 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. To the unknown belov'd, this, and my good wishes; her very phrases: By your leave, wax. Soft! and the impreffure her Lucrece, with which she uses to feal; 'tis my Lady: to whom fhould this be?

Fab. This wins him, liver and all.

Mal. Jove knows I love, but who, lips do not move, no man must know. No man muft know-what follows? the number's alter'd—no man must know if this fhould be thee, Malvolio?

Sir To. Marry, hang thee, Brock!

Mal. I may command where I adore, but filence, like a Lucrece knife,

With bloodless ftroke my heart doth gore, M. O. A. I. doth fway my life.

Fab. A fuftian riddle.

Sir To. Excellent wench, fay I.

Mal. M. O. A. I. doth fway my life-nay, but first, let me fee- -let me fee

Fab. What a dish of poison has fhe drefs'd him? Sir To. And with what wing the ftanyel checks at it?

Mal. I may command where I adore. Why, fhe may command me: I ferve her, fhe is my Lady. Why, this is evident to any formal capacity. There is no obftruction in this-and the end-what fhould that alphabetical pofition portend? if I could make that refemble fomething in me? foftly-M. O. A. I.— Sir To. O, ay! make up that; he is now at a cold fcent.

Fab. Sowter will cry upon't for all this, tho' it be

as rank as a fox.

Mal. M.-Malvolio-M.-why, that begins my

name.

Fab. Did not I fay, he would work it out? the cur is excellent at faults.

Mal. M. But then there is no confonancy in the fequel; That fuffers under probation: A fhould follow, but 0 does.

Fab. And 0 fhall end, I hope.

Sir To. Ay, or I'll cudgel him, and make him cry, O.

Mal. And then I comes behind.

Fab. Ay, and you had any eye behind you, you might fee more detraction at your heels than fortunes before you.

Mal. M. 0. A. I. this fimulation is not as the former and yet to crush this a little, it would bow to me, for every one of these letters is in my name. Soft, here follows profe- -If this fall into thy hand, revolve. In my ftars I am above thee, but be not afraid of greatness; fome are born great, fome atchieve greatness, and fome have greatness thrust upon them. Thy fates open their hands, let thy blood and spirit embrace them; and to inure thyfelf to what thou art like to be, caft thy humble Lough, and appear fresh. Be oppofite with a kinfman, Jurly with fervants: let thy tongue tang arguments of state; put thyself into the trick of fingularity. She thus advifes thee, that fighs for thee. Remember who commended thy yellow ftockings, and wifh'd to fee thee ever cross-garter'd. I fay, remember, go to, thou art made, if thou defireft to be fo: if not, let me fee thee a steward fill, the fellow of fervants, and not worthy to touch fortunes' fingers. Farewel. She, that would alter fervices with thee, the fortunate and happy. Day-light and champian difcover no more this is open. I will be proud, I will read politic authors, I will baffle Sir Toby, I will wash off grofs acquaintance, I will be point devife, the very I do not now fool myfelf, to let imagination jade me; for every reafon excites to this, that my Lady

man.

Lady loves me. She did commend my yellow ftockings of late, fhe did praise my leg, being cross-garter'd, and in this fhe manifefts herself to my love, and with a kind of injunction drives me to these habits of her liking. I thank my ftars, I am happy: I will be ftrange, ftout, in yellow ftockings, and crofs-garter'd, even with the fwiftnefs of putting on. Jove, and my ftars be praised! Here is yet a postfcript. Thou canst not chufe but know who I am; if thou entertaineft my love, let it appear in thy fmiling; thy fmiles become thee well. Therefore in my prefence ftill fmile, dear my fweet, I pr'ythee.-Jove, I thank thee! I will fmile, I will do every thing that thou wilt have me.

[Exit.

Fab. I will not give my part of this sport for a penfion of thousands to be paid from the Sophy.. Sir To. I could marry this wench for this device. Sir And. So could I too.

Sir To. And ask no other dowry with her, but fuch another jeft.

SCENE

Enter Maria.

OR I neither.

NOR

IX.

Sir And. Fab. Here comes my noble gull

catcher.

Sir To. Wilt thou fet thy foot o' my neck?

Sir And. Or o' mine either?

Sir To. Shall I play my freedom at tray-trip, and become thy bond-flave?

Sir And. I'faith, or I either?

Sir To. Why, thou haft put him in fuch a dream, that when the image of it leaves him, he must run mad.

Mar. Nay, but say true, does it work upon him? Sir To. Like Aqua vite with a midwife.

Mar. If you will then fee the fruits of the sport, mark his first approach before my Lady: he will

come

come to her in yellow ftockings, and 'tis a colour she abhors; and crofs-garter'd, a fashion fhe detefts; and he will fmile upon her, which will now be fo unfuitable to her disposition, being addicted to a melancholy, as fhe is, that it cannot but turn him into a notable contempt: if you will fee it, follow me.

Sir To. To the gates of Tartar; thou most excellent devil of wit!

Sir And. I'll make one too.

[Exeunt.

АСТ III. SCÉNE I.

OLIVIA'S Garden.

Enter Viola, and Clown.

VIOLA.

AVE thee, Friend, and thy mufic: doft thou

live by thy Tabor?

Clo. No, Sir, I live by the Church.

Vio. Art thou a Churchman?

Clo. No fuch matter, Sir; I do live by the Church: for I do live at my House, and my House doth stand by the Church.

Vio. So thou may'ft fay, the King lies by a Beggar, if a Beggar dwell near him: or the Church ftands by thy Tabor, if thy Tabor ftand by the Church. Clo. You have said, Sir: to see this age! A fentence is but achev'ril glove to a good wit; how quickly the wrong fide may be turned outward? Vio. Nay, that's certain; they, that dally nicely with words, may quickly make them wanton. Clo. I would therefore, my Sifter had had no Name, Sir.

a chev'ril glove] A Glove made of a Kid's Skin, from Chevereul, French. Chiaverello, Ital. Caprillus, Lat.

Mr. Pope.

Vio. Why, Man?

Clo. Why, Sir, her Name's a word; and to daily with that word, might make my Sifter wanton; but, indeed, words are very rafcals, fince bonds difgrac'd them.

Vio. Thy reafon, Man?

Clo. Troth, Sir, I can yield you none without words; and words are grown fo false, I am loth to prove reason with them.

Vio. I warrant, thou art a merry Fellow, and careft for nothing.

Clo. Not fo, Sir, I do care for fomething; but, in my confcience, Sir, I do not care for you: if that be to care nothing, Sir, I would, it would make you invifible.

Vio. Art not thou the Lady Olivia's Fool?

Clo. No, indeed, Sir; the Lady Olivia has no folly; she will keep no Fool, Sir, 'till the be married; and Fools are as like Husbands, as Pilchers are to Herrings, the Hufband's the bigger: I am, indeed, not her Fool, but her Corrupter of Words.

Vio. I faw thee late at the Duke Orfino's.

Clo. Foolery, Sir, does walk about the Orb like the Sun; it fhines every where. I would be forry, Sir, but the fool fhould be as oft with your Master, as with my Mistress: I think, I faw your wisdom there. Vio. Nay, an thou pass upon me, I'll no more with thee. Hold, there's expences for thee.

Clo. Now Jove, in his next commodity of hair, fend thee a beard!

Vio. By my troth, I'll tell thee, I am almost fick for one, though I would not have it grow on my chin. Is thy lady within?

Clo. Would not a pair of these have bred, Sir? Vio. Yes, being kept together, and put to use. Clo. I would play lord Pandarus of Phrygia, Sir, to bring a Creffida to this Troylus.

Vio. I understand you, Sir, 'tis well begg'd.

Clo.