Enter Sir Toby.
OLIVIA.
By mine honour, half drunk. What is he at the gate, cousin?
SIR TOBY.
A gentleman.
OLIVIA.
A gentleman? What gentleman?
SIR TOBY.
’Tis a gentleman here. A plague o’ these pickle-herrings! 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 an he will, I care not: give me faith, say I. Well, it’s all one.