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You orphan-heirs of fixed destiny,
Pist. Elves, list your names; silence, you airy toys.
Fal. They are fairies; he that speaks to them shall die:
[Lies down upon his face.
Quick. About, about;
Eva. Pray you, lock hand in hand: yourselves in order set;
Fal, Heavens defend me from that Welsh fairy ! lest he transform me to a piece of cheese!
Pist. Vile worm, thou wast o’erlook'd even in thy birth.
Quick. With trial-fire touch me his finger-end:
Pist. A trial, come.
# The letters.
Eva. Come, will this wood take fire ?
[They burn him with their tapers. Fal. Oh, oh, oh!
Quick. Corrupt, corrupt, and tainted in desire !
Kindled with unchaste desire,
Pinch him for his villany;
Till candles and starlight and moonshine be out.
comes one way, and steals away a fairy in green; SLENDER another way, and takes off a fairy in white; and FENTON comes, and steals away Mrs. ANNE PAGE. A noise of hunting is made within. All the fairies run away. FALSTAFF pulls
off his buck's head, and rises. Enter PAGE, FORD, Mrs. PAGE, and Mrs. FORD. They lay hold
Page. Nay, do not fly: I think, we have watch'd you now; Will none but Herne the hunter serve your turn ?
Mrs. Page. I pray you, come; hold up the jest no higher :Now, good Sir John, how like you Windsor wives? See you these, husband ? do not these fair yokes* Become the forest better than the town?
Ford. Now, Sir, who's a cuckold now ?-Master Brook, Falstaff's a knave, a cuckoldly ảnave; here are his horns, master Brook: And, master Brook, he hath enjoyed nothing of Ford's but his buck-basket, his cudgel, and twenty pounds of money; which must be paid to master Brook; his horses are arrested for it, master Brook.
Mrs. Ford. Sir John, we have had ill-luck; we could never meet. I will never take you for my love again, but I will always count you my deer.
Fal. I do begin to perceive that I am made an ass.
Fal. And these are not fairies ? I was three or four times in the thought, they were not fairies; and yet the guiltiness of my mind, the sudden surprise of my powers, drove the grossness of the foppery into a received belief, in despite of the teeth of all rhyme and reason, that they were fairies. See now, how wit may be made a Jack-a-lent, when 'tis upon ill employment.
* Horns which Falstaft had.
Eva. Sir John Falstaff, serve Got, and leave your desires, and fairies will not pinse you. Ford. Well said, fairy Hugh. Eva. And leave you your jealousies too, I pray you.
Ford. I will never mistrust my wife again, till thou art able to woo her in good English.
Fal. Have I laid my brain in the sun, and dried it, that it wants matter to prevent so gross o'er-reaching as this Am I ridden with a Welsh goat too? Shall I have a coxcomb of frize ?* 'tis time I were choked with a piece of toasted cheese. Eva. Seese is not good to give putter; your pelly is all putter.
Fal. Seese and putter! Have I lived to stand at the taunt of one that makes fritters of English? This is enough to be the decay of lust and late-walking, through the realm.
Mrs. Page. Why, Sir John, do you think, though we would have thrust virtue out of our hearts by the head and shoulders, and have given ourselves without scruple to hell, that ever the devil could have made you our delight? Ford. What, a hodge-pudding ? a bag of flax? Mrs. Page. A puffed man? Page. Old, cold, withered, and of intolerable entrails ? Ford. And one that is as slanderous as Satan? Page. And as poor as Job ? Ford. And as wicked as his wife ? Eva. And given to fornications, and to taverns, and sacks, and wines, and metheglins, and to drinkings, and swearings, and starings, pribbles and prabbles ?
Fal. Well, I am your theme: you have the start of me; I am dejected; I am not able to answer the Welsh flannel; ignorance itself is a plummet o'er me: use me as you will.
Ford. Marry, Sir, we'll bring you to Windsor, to one master Brook, that you have cozened of money, to whom you should have been a pander: over and above that you have suffered, I think, to repay that money will be a biting affliction.
Mrs. Ford. Nay, husband, let that go to make amends : Forgive that sum, and so we'll all be friends.
Ford. Well, here's my hand; all's forgiven at last.
Page. Yet be cheerful, knight: thou shalt eat a posset tonight at my house; where I will desire thee to laugh at my wife, that now laughs at thee: Tell her, master Slender hath married her daughter.
Mrs. Þage. Doctors doubt that: If Anne Page be my daughter, she is, by this, doctor Caius' wife.
[Aside. Enter SLENDER. Slen. Whoo, ho ! ho ! father Page. Page. Son ! how now ? how now, son ? have you despatched ?
Slen. Despatched-I'll make the best in Gloucestershire know on't; would I were hanged, la, else.
Page. Of what, son ?
* A fool's cap of Welsh materials,
and she's a great lubberly boy: If it had not been i’ the church, I would have swinged him, or he should have swinged me. If Í did not think it had been Anne Page, would I might never stir, and 'tis a post-master's boy.
Page. Upon my life, then, you took the wrong. Slen. What need you tell me that? I think so, when I took a boy for a girl: If I had been married to him, for all he was in woman's apparel, I would not have had him.
Page. Why, this is your own folly: Did not I tell you, how you should know my daughter by her garments ?
Slen. I went to her in white, and cried mum, and she cried budget, as Anne and I had appointed; and yet it was not Anne, but a post-master's boy.
Eva. Jeshu! Master Slender, cannot you see but marry poys? Page. O, I am vexed at heart: What shall I do?
Mrs. Page. Good George, be not angry: I knew of your purpose; turned my daughter into green; and, indeed, she is now with the doctor at the deanery, and there married.
Mrs. Page. Why, did you not take her in green?
[Exit Caius. Ford. This is strange: who hath got the right Anne? Page. My heart misgives me: Here comes master Fenton.
Enter FENTON and ANNE PAGE. How now, master Fenton ?
Anne. Pardon, good father, good my mother, pardon!
Mrs. Page. Why went you not with master doctor, maid ?
Ford. Stand not amazed : here is no remedy
Fal. I am glad, though you have ta’en a special stand to strike at me, that your arrow hath glanced.
* Confound her by your questions.
Page. Well, what remedy? Fenton, heaven give thee joy! What cannot be eschewd, must be embraced.
Fal. When night-dogs run, all sorts of deer are chased.
Ford. Let it be so:-Sir John,