In the garden, a letter waits where Malvolio must find it.

MARIA: Get you all three into the box tree. Malvolio's coming down this walk.
TOBY: Here comes the trout that must be caught with tickling.
MALVOLIO: 'Tis but fortune; all is fortune.
FABIAN: O, peace. Contemplation makes a rare turkey-cock of him.
MALVOLIO: By my life, this is my lady's hand. These be her very C's, her U's, and her T's.
TOBY: O, peace, and the spirit of humors intimate reading aloud to him.
MALVOLIO: "Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them."
MARIA: The letter has caught him.
MALVOLIO: I will be proud. I will read politic authors. I will baffle Sir Toby.
