_Sir And._ An we do not, it is pity of our lives. 10
_Mar._ 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 15 him, for the love of mockery; for I know this letter will make a contemplative idiot of him. Close, in the name of jesting! Lie thou there [_throws down a letter_]; for here comes the trout that must be caught with tickling. [_Exit._ 20
_Mal._ '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 any one else that follows her. What should I think 25 on't?
_Fab._ O, peace! Contemplation makes a rare turkey-cock of him: how he jets under his advanced plumes!
_Sir And._ 'Slight, I could so beat the rogue! 30
_Mal._ There is example for't; the lady of the Strachy married the yeoman of the wardrobe.
_Fab._ O, peace! now he's deeply in: look how imagination blows him. 40
_Mal._ Having been three months married to her, sitting in my state,--
_Sir To._ O, for a stone-bow, to hit him in the eye!
_Mal._ Calling my officers about me, in my branched velvet gown; having come from a day-bed, where I have 45 left Olivia sleeping,--
_Mal._ And then to have the humour of state; and after a demure travel of regard, telling them I know my place as I 50 would they should do theirs, to ask for my kinsman Toby,--
_Mal._ Seven of my people, with an obedient start, make out for him: I frown the while; and perchance wind 55 up my watch, or play with my--some rich jewel. Toby approaches; courtesies there to me,--
_Fab._ Though our silence be drawn from us with cars, yet peace. 60
_Mal._ I extend my hand to him thus, quenching my familiar smile with an austere regard of control,--
_Sir To._ And does not Toby take you a blow o' the lips then?
_Mal._ Saying, 'Cousin Toby, my fortunes having cast 65 me on your niece give me this prerogative of speech,'--
_Mal._ 'You must amend your drunkenness.'
_Fab._ Nay, patience, or we break the sinews of our plot. 70
_Mal._ 'Besides, you waste the treasure of your time with a foolish knight,'--