“Besides, you waste the treasure of your time with a foolish knight—”
Sir Andrew:That’s me, I warrant you.
What employment have we here?
Fabian: Now is the woodcock near the gin.
“Jove knows I love,But who?"
By my life, this is my lady’s hand...
???
“M.O.A.I. doth sway my life.”
Fabian:What dish o' poison has she dressed him!
If I could make that resemble something in me—Softly! M.O.A.I.—
O, ay, make up that.—He is now at a cold scent.
Go to, thou art made, if thou desir’st to be so; if not, let me see thee a steward still, the fellow of servants, and not worthy to touch Fortune’s fingers.
