Sir And. Od's lifelings, here he is:—You broke my head for nothing; and that that I did, I was set on to do't by Sir Toby.
Vio. Why do you speak to me? I never hurt you: You drew your sword upon me, without cause; But I bespake you fair, and hurt you not.
Sir And. If a bloody coxcomb be a hurt, you have hurt me: I think, you set nothing by a bloody coxcomb.
Sir To. [Without.] Holla, Sir Andrew,—where are you?
Sir And. Here comes Sir Toby halting, you shall hear more: but if he had not been in drink, he would have tickled your Toby for you.
Enter Sir Toby, drunk, with his Forehead bleeding.
Duke. How now, gentleman? how is't with you?
Sir To. That's all one; he has hurt me, and there's the end on't.—Sot, did'st see Dick surgeon, sot?
Sir And. O, he's drunk, Sir Toby, an hour agone.
Sir To. Then he's a rogue, a drunken rogue,—and I hate a drunken rogue.