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Fal. Have you receiv'd no promise of satisfaction at her hands?

Ford. Never.
Fal. Have you importun'd her to such a purpose ?
Ford. Never.
Fal. Of what quality was your love then?

Ford. Like a fair house built on another man's ground; so that I have lost my edifice by mistaking the place where I erected it.

Fal. To what purpose have you unfolded this to me? Ford. When I have told you that, I have told you

all, Some say, that tho' the appear honest to me, yet in other places the enlargeth her mirth so far, that there is shrewd construction made of her. Now, Sir John, here is the heart of my purpose: You are a gentleman of excellent breeding, admirable discourse, of great admittance, authentick in your place and person, generally allow'd for your many

war-like, court-like, and learned preparations. Fal. O Sir!

Ford. Believe it, for you know it ; there is mony, spend it, spend it; spend morc, spend all I have, only give me so much of your time in exchange of it as to lay an amiable fiege to the honesty of this Ford's wife ; use your art of wooing, win her to consent to you; if any man may, you may as foon as any.

Fal. 'Would it apply well to the vehemence of your affection, that I should win what you would enjoy? methinks you prescribe to your self very preposterously.

Ford. O, understand my drift; she dwells so securely on the excellency of her honour, that the folly of my soul dares not present it self; she is too bright to be look'd against. Now could I come to her with any de

detection in my hand, my desires had instance and argument to commend themselves; I could drive her then from the ward of her purity, her reputation, her marriage-vow, and a thousand other defences, which now are too strongly embattel'd against me. What say you to't, Sir John? Fal. Master Brook, I will first make bold with your

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mony; next, give me your hand; and last, as I am a
gentleman, you shall, if you will, enjoy Ford's wife.

Ford. O good Sir !
Fa'. I say, you Thall.
Ford. Want no mony, Sir John, you shall want none.

Fal. Want no mistress Ford, master Brook, you shall want none; I shall be with her, I may tell you, by her own appointment. Even as you came in to me, her affiltant, or go-between, parted from me; I say, I shall be with her between ten and eleven; for at that time the jealous rascally knave, her husband, will be forth; come you to me at night, you shall know how I speed.

Ford. I am blest in your acquaintance: do you know Ford, Sir?

Fal. Hang him, poor cuckoldy knave, I know him not: yet I wrong him, to call him poor; they say the jealous wittolly knave hath masses of mony, for the which his wife seems to me well-favour'd. I will use her as the key of the cuckold-rogue's coffer; and there's my harvesthome.

Ford. I would you knew Ford, Sir, that you might avoid him, if you saw him.

Fal. Hang him, mechanical falt-butter rogue; I will ftare him out of his wits; I will awe him with my cudgel; it shall hang like a meteor o'er the cuckold's horns. Master Brook, thou shalt know I will predominate over the peasant, and thou shalt lye with his wife: Come to me soon at night; Ford's a knave, and I will aggravate his stile: thou, master Brook, Ihalt know him for knave and cuckold; come to me soon at night.

[Exit.

S CE N E X. Ford. What a damn'd Epicurean rascal is this ! my heart is ready to crack with impatience. Who says this is improvident jealousie? my wife hath sent to him, the hour is fixt, the match is made ; would any man have thought this? see the hell of having a false woman; my bed shall

be

be abus’d, my coffers ransack'd, my reputation gnawn at, and I shall not only receive this villainous wrong, but stand under the adoption of abominable terms, and him that does me the wrong; terms! names! Amaimon sounds well, Lucifer well, Barbason well, yet they are devils additions, the names of fiends : but cuckold, wittol, cuckold ! the devil himself hath not such a name. Page is an ass, a fecure ass, he will trust his wife; he will not be jealous : I will rather trust a Fleming with my butter, parfon Hugh the Welchman with my cheese, an Irishman with my Aquavitæ bottle, or a thief to walk my ambling gelding, than my wife with her self: then the plots, then she ruminates, then the devises ; and what they think in their hearts they may effect, they will break their hearts but they will effect. Heav'n be prais’d for my jealousie! Eleven o'clock the hour; I will prevent this, detect my wife, be reveng'd on Falstaf, and laugh at Page: I will about it: better three hours too soon than a minute too late. Fie, fie, fie ; cuckold, cuckold, cuckold !

(Exit.

Rug. Sir.

$ CE N E XI.

Windfor-Park.

Enter Caius and Rugby. Caius. J Ack Rugby!

Caius. Vat is de clock, Jack?

Rug. 'Tis past the hour, Sir, that Sir Hugb promis'd to meet.

Caius. By gar, he has save his soul, dat he is no come; he has pray his pible well, dat he is no come: by gar, Jack Rugby, he is dead already, if he be come.

Rug. He is wise, Sir ; he knew your worship would kill him, if he came. Caius. By gar, de herring is not so dead as me vill make

him.

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him. Take your rapier, Jack, I vill tell you how I vill kill him.

Rug. Alas, Sir, I cannot fence.
Caius. Villany, take your rapier.
Rug. Forbear; here's company.

Enter Hoft, Shallow, Slender, and Page.
Hoft. 'Bless thee, bully-Doctor.
Shal. 'Save you, Mr. Doctor Caius.
Page. Now, good Mr. Doctor.
Slen. Give you good-morrow, Sir.
Caius. Vat be all you, one, two, tree, four, come for?

Hot. To see thee fight, to see thee foigne, to see thee traverse, to see thee here, to see thee there, to see thee pass-thy puncto, thy stock, thy reverse, thy distance, thy montant. Is he dead, my Ethiopian? Is he dead, my Francisco? ha, bully? what says my Esculapius? my Ga

heart of elder? ha? is he dead, bully-stale? is he dead?

Caius. By gar, he is de coward Jack-priest of de varld; he is not show his face.

Hot. Thou art a ? 'Cardalion a,' king Urinal, Hector of Greece, my boy.

Caius. I pray you bear witness dat me have 9 'stay from six or seven,' two tree hours for him, and he is no come.

Sbal. He is the wiser man, Mr. Doctor; he is a curer of fouls, and you a curer of bodies: if you should fight, you go against the hair of your professions : Is it not true, master Page? Page. Mafter Shallow, you have

your fighter, tho' now a man of peace.

Shal. Body-kins, Mr. Page, tho' I now be old, and of peace, if I see a sword out, my finger itches to make one; tho we are Justices, and Doctors, and church-men, Mr. Page, we have fome falt of our youth in us; we are the fons of women, Mr. Page.

Page. (a)

He means to fay Cocur de lion. 8 Castalion, 9 stay fix or seven,

self been a great

his ears.

Page. 'Tis true, Mr. Shallow.

Sbal. It will be found fo, Mr. Page. Mr. Doctor Caius, I am come to fetch you home; I am sworn of the peace; you have fhew'd your self a wife physician, and Sir Hugh hath shown himself a wife and patient churchman: you must go with me, Mr. Doctor.

Hoft, Pardon, guest-justice; ' 'ah! monsieur' mockwater!

Caius. Mock-vater? vat is dat?

Hoft. Mock-water, in our English tongue, is valour, bully.

Caius. By gar, den I have as much mock-vater as de
Englishman, scurvy-jack-dog-priest; by gar, me yill cut

Host. He will clapper-claw thee tightly, bully.
Caius. Clapper-de-claw, vať is dat?
Hoft. That is, he will make thee amends,

Caius. By gar, me do look he shall clapper-de-claw me; for by gar, me vill have it.

Hoft. And I will provoke him to't, or let him wag.
Caius. Me tank you for dat.

Hoft. And moreover, bully; but first, Mr. Guest, and Mr. Page, and eek Cavaliero Slender, go you through the town to Frogmore.

Page. Sir Hugh is there, is he?

Hoft. He is there; fee what humour he is in; and I will bring the doctor about the fields : will it do well?

Sbal. We will do it.
Ali. Adieu, good Mr. Doctor.

[Exeunt Page, Shallow and Slender, Caius. By går mè vill kill de priest; for he speak for a jack-an-ape to Anne Page.

Hoft. Let him die; 2 Ybut sheath thy impatience ; throw cold water on thy choler ; go about the fields with me through Frogmore; I will bring thee where mistress Anne Page is, at a farm-house a feasting, and thou shalt woo bier, 'cock oth game;' said I well?

Caius, 1 a word, monfieur 2 but, firft, sheath 3 try'd game;

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