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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 desir’st 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”
for you. Argue with a relative like a nobleman, and be rude to servants. Talk about politics and affairs of state, and act free and independent. The woman who advises you to do this loves you. Remember the woman who complimented you on your yellow stockings, and said she always wanted to see you with crisscrossing laces going up your legs—remember her. Go ahead. A happy new life is there if you want it. If you don’t want it, just keep acting like a lowly servant who’s not brave enough to grab the happiness there before him. Goodbye. Signed, she who would be your servant,
    The Fortunate Unhappy.”
145Daylight and champaign 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 manifests 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.
This is as clear as sunlight in an open field. I’ll do it. I’ll be vain and proud, I’ll read up on politics, I’ll insult Sir Toby, I’ll get rid of my lower-class friends, and I’ll be the perfect man for her. I know I’m not fooling myself, or letting myself get carried away by my imagination, because every clue points to the fact that Lady Olivia loves me. She did compliment me on my yellow stockings recently, and she said she liked how the crisscross laces looked on my legs. That’s her way of saying she loves me. Oh, I thank my lucky stars, I’m so happy. For her I’ll be strange and condescending, and I’ll put on my yellow stockings and crisscross laces right away. Thank God and my horoscope! Here’s a postscript!.
“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.”
“You must have figured out who I am. If you love me, let me know by smiling at me. You’re so attractive when you smile. Please smile whenever you’re near me, my dearest darling.”