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 dress'd him!
SIR TOBY.
And with what wing the staniel checks 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.
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.
FABIAN.
And O shall end, I hope.