Oli. A gentleman? What gentleman?
Sir To. 'Tis a gentleman here,—How now, sot?
Clo. Good Sir Toby,——
Oli. Uncle, uncle, how have you come so early by this lethargy?
Sir To. Lechery! I defy lechery.—There's one at the gate.
Oli. Ay, marry; what is he?
Sir To. Let him be the devil, an he will, I care not: give me faith, say I. Well, it's all one.—A plague o' these pickle-herrings.
[Exit Sir Toby.
Oli. What's a drunken man like, fool?
Clo. Like a drown'd man, a fool, and a madman; one draught above heat makes him a fool; the second mads him; and a third drowns him.