Ford. I will feek out Falstaff.

Page. I never heard fuch a drawling, affecting

rogue.

Ford. If I do find it: well.

Page. I will not believe fuch a Cataian, tho' the prieft o' th' town commended him for a true man. Ford. 'Twas a good fenfible fellow-well.

Mrs Page and Mrs Ford come forward. Page. How now, Meg?

Mrs Page. Whither go you, George?-hark you. Mrs Ford. How now, fweet Frank, why art thou melancholy?

Ford. I melancholy ! I am not melancholy.—Get you home, go.

Mrs Ford. Faith, thou haft fome crochets in thy head now-Will you go, Mistress Page?

Mrs Page. Have with you. You'll come to dinner, George?-Look who comes yonder: fhe fhall be our meffenger to this paultry knight.

[Afide to Mrs Ford.

Enter Miftrefs Quickly.

Mrs Ford. Truft me I thought on her, fhe'll fit it Mrs Page. You are come to fee my daughter Anne?

Quic. Ay, forfooth; and, I pray, how does good Miftrefs Anne?

Mrs Page. Go in with us and fee; we have an hour's talk with you.

[Ex. Mrs Page, Mrs Ford, and Mrs Quickly.

SCENE

Page. How now, Mafter Ford?

V.

Ford. You heard what this knave told me, did you not?

Page Yes; and you heard what the other told me? Ford. Do you think there is truth in them?

Page. Hang 'em, flaves; I do not think, the Knight would offer it; but thefe that accufe him

in his intent towards our wives, are a yoke of his difcarded men; very rogues, now they be out of fervice.

Ford. Were they his men?

Page. Marry were they.

Ford. I like it never the better for that. Does he ly at the Garter?

Page. Ay, marry does he. If he fhould intend his voyage towards my wife, I would turn her loofe to him; and what he gets more of her than fharp words, let it ly on my head.

Ford. I do not mifdoubt my wife, but I would be loth to turn them together; a man may be too confident; I would have nothing ly on my head; I cannot be thus fatisfy'd.

Page. Look where my ranting hoft of the Garter comes; there is either liquor in his pate, or money in his purfe, when he looks fo merrily. How now, mine hoft?

Hoft. How now, bully Rock? thou'rt a gentleman; cavaliero-juftice, I fay.

Shal. I follow, mine hoft, I follow. Good even, and twenty, good Master Page. Mafter Page, will you go with us? we have sport in hand.

Hoft. Tell him, cavaliero-juftice; tell him, bully Rock.

Shal. Sir, there is a fray to be fought between Sir Hugh the Welch priest, and Caius the French doctor.

Ford. Good mine hoft o' th' Garter, a word with you.

Hoft. What fay'ft thou, bully Rock?

[They go a little afide. Shal. to Page.] Will you go with us to behold it? my merry hoft hath had the measuring of their weapons, and, I think, he hath appointed them contrary places; for, believe me, I hear the par

fon is no jefter. Hark, I will tell you what our fport fhall be.

Hoft. Haft thou no fuit against my knight, my gueft-cavalier?

Ford. None, I proteft; but I'll give you a pottle of burnt fack to give me recourse to him, and tell him my name is Brook; only for a jeft.

Hoft. My hand, bully. Thou fhalt have egress and regrefs; faid I well? and thy name shall be Brook. It is a merry knight. Will you go an heirs?

Shal. Have with you, mine hoft.

Page. I have heard the Frenchman hath good fkill in his rapier.

In

Shal. Tut, Sir, I could have told you more. thefe times you stand on distance, your paffes, ftoccado's, and I know not what. 'Tis the heart, Mafter Page; 'tis here, 'tis here. I have feen the time, with my long fword, I would have made you. four tall fellows fkip like rats.

Hoft. Here, boys, here, here: fhall we wag? Page. Have with you; I had rather hear them fcold than fight. [Exeunt Hoft, Shallow, and Page. Ford. Tho' Page be a fecure fool, and ftand fo firmly on his wife's fealty, yet I cannot put off my opinion fo eafily. She was in his company at Page's houfe; and what they made there, I know not.. Well, I will look further into't; and I have a difguife to found Falstaff: if I find her honest, I lose not my labour; if fhe be otherwife, 'tis labour well bestow'd. [Exit.

Fal. I will not lend thee a penny.

Pift. Why, then the world's mine oyfter, which

* Perhaps we should read, "Will you go on, hearts ?"

Revifal.

I with fword will open.—I will retort the fum in equipage t..

Fal. Not a penny. I have been content, Sir, you fhould lay my countenance to pawn; I have grated upon my good friends for three reprieves for you, and your couch-fellow, Nym; or elfe you had look'd through the grate, like a geminy of baboons. I am damn'd in hell for fwearing to gentlemen, my friends, you were good foldiers and tall fellows. And when Mrs Bridget loft the handle of her fan, I took't upon mine honour thou hadft it not.

Pift. Didft thou not fhare? hadft thou not fifteen pence?

Fal. Reafon, you rogue, reafon : think'ft thou I'll endanger my foul gratis? At a word, hang no more about me, I am no gibbet for you.-Go.

-A fhort knife and a throng--to your manor of Pickt-hatch *. -Go.-You'll not bear a letter for me, you rogue! you stand upon your honour! -why, thou unconfinable balenefs, it is as much as I can do to keep the term of my honour precife. I, I, I myself fometimes, leaving the fear of heaven on the left hand, and hiding mine honour in my neceflity, am fain to fhuffle, to hedge and to lurch; and yet you, rogue, will enfconce your rags, your cat-a-mountain looks, your red lettice phrafes, and your bold-beating oaths, under the Thelter of your honour! You will not do it, you? Pift. I do relent: what would'st thou more of man?

Enter Robin.

Rob. Sir, here's a woman would speak with you. Fal. Let her approach.

tie. I will pay you again in stolen goods. Warb. A noted place for thieves and pickpockets. Theob

Quic. Give your Worship good-morrow.
Fal. Good morrow, good wife.

Quic. Not fo, and 't please your Worship.
Fal. Good maid, then.

Quic. I'll be fworn, as my mother was the first hour I was born.

Fal. I do believe the fwearer; what with me? Quic. Shall I vouchiafe your Worship a word or two?

Fal. Two thoufand, fair woman, and I'll vouchfafe thee the hearing.

Quic. There is one Miftrefs Ford, Sir--I pray, come a little nearer this ways-I myfelf dwell with Mafter Doctor Caius.

Fel. Well, on: Miftrels Ford, you fay

Quic. Your Worfhip fays very true: I pray your Worthip, come a little nearer this ways.

Fal. I warrant thee nobody hears-mine own people, mine own people.

Quic. Are they fo? Heav'n bless them, and make them his fervants!

Fal. Well, Miftrefs Ford,-what of her?

Quic. Why, Sir, fhe's a good creature. Lord, Lord, your Worship's a wanton: well, Heav'n forgive you, and all of us, I pray

Fal. Miftrefs Ford,-come, Mistress Ford,

Quic. Marry, this is the fhort and the long of it; you have brought her into fuch a canaries, as 'tis wonderful. The best courtier of them all, when the court lay at Windfor, could never have brought her to fuch a canary. Yet there has been knights, and lords, and gentlemen, with their coaches; I warrant you,, coach after coach, letter after letter, gift after gift, fmelling fo fweetly; all musk; and fo rufling, I warrant you, in filk and gold, and in fuch alligant terms, and in fuch wine and fugar of the best, and the faireft, that would have won any woman's heart: and, I warrant you, they could