Clo. Good Sir Toby!
115
Oli. [Cousin, cousin], 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. [Exit.
Oli. What's a drunken man like, fool?