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SUMMARY
{Malvolio, a steward - (i.e. a head butler) - discovers what he thinks
is a love letter to him written by his mistress - (i.e. his boss, not his lover) -
the lovely and wealthy Olivia.
It has actually been written by other servants in the hope
it would do just that.}
Seeing the letter.
What employment have we here?
Taking up the letter.
By my life, this
is my lady's hand! these be her very C's, her U's,
and her T's; and thus makes she her great P's.
It is, in contempt of question, her hand.
Reads:
To the unknown beloved, this
and my good wishes:
her very phrases! By
your leave, wax. Soft! and the impressure her
Lucrece, with which she uses to seal: 'tis my
lady. To whom should this be?
Reads:
Jove knows I love;
But who?
Lips, do not move:
No man must know.
'No man must know.' What follows? the num-
ber's altered! 'No man must know:' if this
should be thee, 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.
M, O, A, I, doth sway my life.
Nay,
but first, let me see, let me see, let me see.
Reads:
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 capa-
city; there is no obstruction in this. And the
end, what should that alphabetical position
portend? if I could make that resemble some-
thing in me—Softly!—M, O, A, I,—
M, Malvolio; M, why, that begins my name.
M,—But then there is no consonancy in
the sequel; that suffers under probation: A
should follow, but O does.
And then I comes behind.
M, O, A, I; this simulation is not as
the former; and yet, to crush this a little, it
would bow to me, for every one of these letters
are in my name. Soft! here follows prose.
Reads:
‘If this fall into thy hand, revolve. In my stars
I am above thee; but be not afraid of greatness:
some are born great, some achieve greatness, and
some have greatness thrust upon them. Thy Fates
open their hands; let thy blood and spirit embrace
them; and to inure thyself to what thou art like
to be, cast thy humble slough, and appear fresh.
Be opposite with a kinsman, surly with servants;
let thy tongue tang arguments of state; put thyself
into the trick of singularity. She thus advises thee
that sighs for thee. Remember who commended
thy yellow stockings, and wished to see thee ever
cross-gartered: I say, remember. Go to, thou art
made, if thou desirest to be so; if not, let me see
thee a steward still, the fellow of servants, and not
worthy to touch Fortune's fingers. Farewell. She
that would alter services with thee,
THE FORTUNATE-UNHAPPY.
Daylight and champain discovers not more: this
is open. I will be proud, I will read politic
authors, I will baffle Sir Toby, I will wash off
gross acquaintance, I will be point-devise the
very man. I do not now fool myself, to let
imagination jade me, for every reason excites to
this, that my lady loves me. She did commend
my yellow stockings of late, she did praise my
leg being cross-gartered; and in this she mani-
fests herself to my love, and, with a kind of
injunction drives me to these habits of her
liking. I thank my stars I am happy. I will
be strange, stout, in yellow stockings, and cross-
gartered, even with the swiftness of putting on.
Jove and my stars be praised! Here is yet a
postscript.
reads:
‘Thou canst not choose but know who I am. If
thou entertainest my love, let it appear in thy
smiling; thy smiles become thee well; therefore
in my presence still smile, dear my sweet, I prithee.
Jove, I thank thee. I will smile: I will do every-
thing that thou wilt have me.
Exit