¶Mal. Ioue knowes I loue, but who, Lips do not mooue, no
1110man must know. No man mu
st know. What followes?
¶The numbers alter'd: No man mu
st know,
¶If this
should be thee
Maluolio?
¶To. Marrie hang thee brocke.
¶Mal. I may command where I adore, but silence like a Lu-
¶ With bloodlesse stroke my heart doth gore, M.O.A.I. doth
¶To. Excellent Wench,
say I.
1120Mal. M.O.A.I. doth
sway my life. Nay but fir
st
¶let me
see, let me
see, let me
see.
¶Fab. What di
sh a poy
son has
she dre
st him?
¶To. And with what wing the
stallion checkes at it?
¶Mal. I may command, where I adore: Why
shee may
1125command me: I
serue her,
she is my Ladie. Why this is
¶euident to any formall capacitie. There is no ob
struction
¶in this, and the end: What
should that Alphabeticall po-
¶sition portend, if I could make that re
semble
something
1130To. O I, make vp that, he is now at a cold
sent.
¶Fab. Sowter will cry vpon't for all this, though it bee
¶Mal. M.
Maluolio, M. why that begins my name.
¶Fab. Did not I
say he would worke it out, the Curre
1135is excellent at faults.
¶Mal. M. But then there is no con
sonancy in the
sequell
¶that
suffers vnder probation:
A. should follow, but
O.
¶Fa. And
O shall end, I hope.
1140To. 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
1145Mal. M,O,A,I. This
simulation is not as the former:
¶and yet to cru
sh this a little, it would bow to mee, for e-
¶uery one of the
se Letters are in my name. Soft, here fol-
¶lowes pro
se:
If this fall into thy hand, reuolue. In my
stars
¶I am aboue thee, but be not affraid of greatne
sse: Some
1150are become great,
some atcheeues greatne
sse, and
some
¶haue greatne
sse thru
st vppon em. Thy fates open theyr
¶hands, let thy blood and
spirit embrace them, and to in-
¶vre thy
selfe to what thou art like to be: ca
st thy humble
¶slough, and appeare fre
sh. Be oppo
site with a kin
sman,
1155surly with
seruants: Let thy tongue tang arguments of
¶state; put thy
selfe into the tricke of
singularitie. Shee
¶thus adui
ses thee, that
sighes for thee. Remember who
¶commended thy yellow
stockings, and wi
sh'd to
see thee
¶euer cro
sse garter'd: I
say remember, goe too, thou art
1160made if thou de
sir'
st to be
so: If not, let me
see thee a
ste-
¶ward
still, the fellow of
seruants, and not woorthie to
¶touch Fortunes fingers Farewell, Shee that would alter
¶seruices with thee, tht fortunate vnhappy daylight and
¶champian di
scouers not more: This is open, I will bee
1165proud, I will reade politicke Authours, I will baffle Sir
¶Toby, I will wa
sh off gro
sse acquaintance, I will be point
¶deui
se, the very man. I do not now foole my
selfe, to let
¶imagination iade mee; for euery rea
son excites to this,
¶that my Lady loues me. She did commend my yellow
1170stockings of late,
shee did prai
se my legge being cro
sse-
¶garter'd, and in this
she manife
sts her
selfe to my loue, &
¶with a kinde of iniunction driues mee to the
se habites of
¶her liking. I thanke my
starres, I am happy: I will bee
¶strange,
stout, in yellow
stockings, and cro
sse Garter'd,
1175euen with the
swiftne
sse of putting on. Ioue, and my
¶starres be prai
sed. Heere is yet a po
st
script.
Thou canst
¶not choose but know who I am. If thou entertainst my loue, let
¶it appeare in thy smiling, thy smiles become thee well. There-
¶fore in my presence still smile, deero my sweete, I prethee. Ioue
1180I thanke thee, I will
smile, I wil do euery thing that thou
¶Fab. I will not giue my part of this
sport for a pen
si-
¶on of thou
sands to be paid from the Sophy.
¶To. I could marry this wench for this deuice.
¶To. And a
ske no other dowry with her, but
such ano-
1190Fab. Heere comes my noble gull catcher.
¶To. Wilt thou
set thy foote o'my necke.
¶To. Shall I play my freedome at tray-trip, and becom
1195An. Ifaith, or I either?
¶Tob. Why, thou ha
st put him in
such a dreame, that
¶when the image of it leaues him, he mu
st run mad.
¶Ma. Nay but
say true, do's it worke vpon him?
¶To. Like Aqua vite with a Midwife.
1200Mar. If you will then
see the fruites of the
sport, mark
¶his fir
st approach before my Lady: hee will come to her
¶in yellow
stockings, and 'tis a colour
she abhorres, and
¶cro
sse garter'd, a fa
shion
shee dete
sts: and hee will
smile
¶vpon her, which will now be
so vn
suteable to her di
spo-
1205sition, being addicted to a melancholly, as
shee is, that it
¶cannot but turn him into a notable contempt: if you wil
¶To. To the gates of Tartar, thou mo
st excellent diuell
1210And. Ile make one too.
Exeunt
.
¶Actus Tertius, Scaena prima.
¶Vio. Saue thee Friend and thy Mu
sick: do
st thou liue
¶Clo. No
sir, I liue by the Church.
¶Vio. Art thou a Churchman?
¶Clo. No
such matter
sir, I do liue by the Church: For,
¶I do liue at my hou
se, and my hou
se dooth
stand by the
¶Vio. So thou mai
st
say the Kings lyes by a begger, if a
¶begger dwell neer him: or the Church
stands by thy Ta-
¶bor, if thy Tabor
stand by the Church.
¶Clo. You haue
said
sir: To
see this age: A
sentence is
1225but a cheu'rill gloue to a good witte, how quickely the
¶wrong
side may be turn'd outward.
¶Vio. Nay that's certaine: they that dally nicely with
¶words, may quickely make them wanton.
¶Clo. I would therefore my
si
ster had had no name Sir.
¶Clo. Why
sir, her names a word, and to dallie with
¶that word, might make my
si
ster wanton: But indeede,
¶words are very Ra
scals,
since bonds di
sgrac'd them.
Twelfe Night, or, What you will.
