Twelfth Night; Or, What You Will

by William Shakespeare

MALVOLIO.
Ah, ha! does she so?

SIR TOBY. Go to, go to; peace, peace; we must deal gently with him: let me alone. How do you, Malvolio? how is 't with you? What, man! defy the devil; consider, he 's an enemy to mankind.

MALVOLIO.
Do you know what you say?

MARIA.
La you, and you speak ill of the devil, how he takes it at heart!
Pray God, he be not bewitch'd! My lady would not lose him for
more than I 'll say.

MALVOLIO.
How now, mistress!

MARIA.
O Lord!

SIR TOBY. Prithee, hold thy peace; this is not the way: do you not see you move him? let me alone with him.

FABIAN. No way but gentleness; gently, gently: the fiend is rough, and will not be roughly us'd.

SIR TOBY.
Why, how now, my bawcock! how dost thou, chuck?

MALVOLIO.
Sir!