CLOWN.
Thou hast spoke for us, madonna, as if thy eldest son should be a
fool; whose skull Jove cram with brains! for — here he comes —
[Enter SIR TOBY.]
one of thy kin has a most weak pia mater.
OLIVIA.
By mine honour, half drunk. What is he at the gate, cousin?
SIR TOBY.
A gentleman.
OLIVIA.
A gentleman! what gentleman?
SIR TOBY.
'T is a gentleman here — a plague o' these pickle-herring! How
now, sot!
CLOWN.
Good Sir Toby!
OLIVIA.
Cousin, cousin, how have you come so early by this lethargy?
SIR TOBY.
Lechery! I defy lechery. There's one at the gate.
OLIVIA.
Ay, marry, what is he?
SIR TOBY.
Let him be the devil, and he will, I care not; give me faith, say
I. Well, it's all one.
[Exit.]
