MARIA
O Lord!
SIR TOBY BELCH
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 used.
SIR TOBY BELCH
Why, how now, my bawcock! how dost thou, chuck?
MALVOLIO
Sir!
SIR TOBY BELCH
Ay, Biddy, come with me. What, man! 'tis not for
gravity to play at cherry-pit with Satan: hang
him, foul collier!
MARIA
Get him to say his prayers, good Sir Toby, get him to pray.
MALVOLIO
My prayers, minx!
MARIA
No, I warrant you, he will not hear of godliness.
MALVOLIO
Go, hang yourselves all! you are idle shallow
things: I am not of your element: you shall know
more hereafter.
Exit
SIR TOBY BELCH
Is't possible?
FABIAN
If this were played upon a stage now, I could
condemn it as an improbable fiction.
SIR TOBY BELCH
His very genius hath taken the infection of the device, man.
MARIA
Nay, pursue him now, lest the device take air and taint.