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Sir Toby, Sir Andrew and Fabian are thoroughly fed up of Malvolio's
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MALVOLIO
'Tis but fortune; all is fortune. Maria once told
me she did affect me: and I have heard herself come
thus near, that, should she fancy, it should be one
of my complexion. Besides, she uses me with a more
exalted respect than any one else that follows her.
What should I think on't?
SIR TOBY BELCH
Here's an overweening rogue!
FABIAN
O, peace! Contemplation makes a rare turkey-cock
of him: how he jets under his advanced plumes!
SIR ANDREW
'Slight, I could so beat the rogue!
SIR TOBY BELCH
Peace, I say.
MALVOLIO
To be Count Malvolio!
SIR TOBY BELCH
Ah, rogue!
SIR ANDREW
Pistol him, pistol him.
SIR TOBY BELCH
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:
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