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Twelfth Night

William Shakespeare
No Fear Act 2 Scene 5
No Fear Act 2 Scene 5 Page 6

Original Text

Modern Text

MALVOLIO

“No man must know.” What follows? The numbers altered. “No man must know.” If this should be thee, Malvolio?

MALVOLIO

“No man must know.” What comes after that? Look, the meter changes in her poem. “No man must know.” What if this someone were you, Malvolio?

SIR TOBY BELCH

(aside) Marry, hang thee, brock!

SIR TOBY BELCH

(whispering) Go hang yourself, you stinking badger!

MALVOLIO

95 (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.”

MALVOLIO

(reading)
“I may order the one I love.
But silence, like a knife, cuts open my heart
With strokes that draw no blood.
M.O.A.I. rules my life.”

FABIAN

100(aside) A fustian riddle!

FABIAN

(whispering) What a pretentious riddle!

SIR TOBY BELCH

(aside) Excellent wench, say I.

SIR TOBY BELCH

(whispering) That Maria has outdone herself!

MALVOLIO

“M.O.A.I. doth sway my life.” Nay, but first, let me see, let me see, let me see.

MALVOLIO

“M.O.A.I. rules my life.” Hmm, let me see, let me see, let me see.

FABIAN

(aside) What dish o' poison has she dressed him!

FABIAN

(whispering) What a dish of poison she’s mixed for him!

SIR TOBY BELCH

105(aside) And with what wing the staniel checks at it!

SIR TOBY BELCH

(whispering) And look how willingly he’s taking the bait.

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.—

MALVOLIO

“I may command the one I love.” Well, she commands me. I’m her servant. She’s my boss. Why, anyone can see what this means. There’s no ambiguity here. But the end, what do those letters mean? If only I could somehow relate them to me! Hmm. M.O.A.I.—

SIR TOBY BELCH

(aside) O, ay, make up that.—He is now at a cold scent.

SIR TOBY BELCH

(whispering) Oh, bad dog.—He’s losing the scent!

FABIAN

(aside) Sowter will cry upon ’t for all this, though it be as rank as a fox.

FABIAN

(whispering) He’ll find it again, no matter how much it stinks.