Fa. A fustian riddle

To. Excellent Wench, say I

Mal. M.O.A.I. doth sway my life. Nay but first
let me see, let me see, let me see

Fab. What dish a poyson has she drest him?
To. And with what wing the stallion checkes at it?
Mal. I may command, where I adore: Why shee may
command me: I serue her, she is my Ladie. Why this is
euident to any formall capacitie. There is no obstruction
in this, and the end: What should that Alphabeticall position
portend, if I could make that resemble something
in me? Softly, M.O.A.I

To. O I, make vp that, he is now at a cold sent

Fab. Sowter will cry vpon't for all this, though it bee
as ranke as a Fox

Mal. M. Maluolio, M. why that begins my name

Fab. Did not I say he would worke it out, the Curre
is excellent at faults

Mal. M. But then there is no consonancy in the sequell
that suffers vnder probation: A. should follow, but O.
does