SIR ANDREW.
Her C's, her U's, and her T's; why that?

MALVOLIO.
[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; 't is my lady. To whom
should this be?

FABIAN.
This wins him, liver and all.

MALVOLIO.
[Reads]
Jove knows I love;
But who?
Lips, do not move;
No man must know.

'No man must know.' What follows? the numbers alter'd!
'No man must know.' If this should be thee, Malvolio?

SIR TOBY.
Marry, hang thee, brock!

MALVOLIO.
[Reads]
I may command where I adore;
But silence, like a Lucrece knife,