sonne should be a foole: whose scull, Ioue cramme with
braines, for heere he comes.
Enter Sir Toby.

One of thy kin has a most weake Pia-mater

Ol. By mine honor halfe drunke. What is he at the
gate Cosin?
To. A Gentleman

Ol. A Gentleman? What Gentleman?
To. 'Tis a Gentleman heere. A plague o'these pickle
herring: How now Sot

Clo. Good Sir Toby

Ol. Cosin, Cosin, how haue you come so earely by
this Lethargie?
To. Letcherie, I defie Letchery: there's one at the
gate

Ol. I marry, what is he?
To. Let him be the diuell and he will, I care not: giue
me faith say I. Well, it's all one.

Exit

Ol. What's a drunken man like, foole?
Clo. Like a drown'd man, a foole, and a madde man:
One draught aboue heate, makes him a foole, the second