SIR ANDREW.
Pistol him, pistol him.
SIR TOBY.
Peace, peace!
MALVOLIO. There is example for't: the lady of the Strachy married the yeoman of the wardrobe.
SIR ANDREW.
Fie on him, Jezebel!
FABIAN.
O, peace! now he's deeply in; look how imagination blows him.
MALVOLIO.
Having been three months married to her, sitting in my state,—
SIR TOBY.
O, for a stone-bow, to hit him in the eye!
MALVOLIO. Calling my officers about me, in my branch'd velvet gown; having come from a day-bed, where I have left Olivia sleeping,—
SIR TOBY.
Fire and brimstone!
FABIAN.
O, peace, peace!