MALVOLIO.
'Besides, you waste the treasure of your time with a foolish
knight,'--

SIR ANDREW.
That's me, I warrant you.

MALVOLIO.
'One Sir Andrew.'

SIR ANDREW.
I knew 't was I; for many do call me fool.

MALVOLIO.
What employment have we here?
[Taking up the letter.]

FABIAN.
Now is the woodcock near the gin.

SIR TOBY.
O, peace! and the spirit of humours intimate reading aloud to
him!

MALVOLIO.
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.