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 TOBY BELCH

And with what wing the staniel cheques 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 BELCH

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.