“SIR ANDREW. Ay, ay; I care not for good life. Clown. SONG O, mistress mine, where are you roaming? O, stay and hear; your true love's coming, That can sing both high and low: Trip no further, pretty sweeting; Journeys end in lovers meeting, Every wise man's son doth know.
SIR ANDREW. Excellent good, i' faith. SIR TOBY. Good, good. Clown. What is love? 'tis not hereafter;
Present mirth hath present laughter; What's to come is still unsure.”