tion to thy gait, in a semi-circled farthingale. I see what thou wert, if fortune thy foe were not: nature is thy friend: Come, thou canst not hide it.

me.

Mrs. Ford. Believe me, there's no such thing in

Fal. What made me love thee? let that persuade thee, there's something extraordinary in thee. Come, I cannot cog, and say thou art this and that, like a many of these lisping hawthorn buds, that come like women in men's apparel, and smell like Bucklersbury9 in simple-time; I cannot: but I love thee; none but thee; and thou deservest it.

Mrs. Ford. Do not betray me, sir; I fear you love mistress Page.

Fal. Thou might'st as well say, I love to walk by the Counter 10-gate; which is as hateful to me as the reek of a lime-kiln 11.

Mrs. Ford. Well, heaven knows how I love you; and you shall one day find it.

Fal. Keep in that mind; I'll deserve it.

8 Fortune my foe is the beginning of a popular old ballad enumerating all the misfortunes that fall on mankind through the caprice of Fortune. The tune was the same with that of Death and the Lady,' to which the metrical lamentations of extraordinary criminals were chanted for two hundred years and more.

9 Formerly chiefly inhabited by druggists, who sold all kinds of herbs green as well as dry.

10 The Counter as a prison was odious to Falstaff. 11 So, in Coriolanus

"Whose breath I hate

As reek o' the rotten fens."

The name of this prison was a frequent subject of jocularity with our ancestors. Shakspeare has availed himself of it in the Comedy of Errors. My old acquaintance Baret records one pleasantly enough in his Alvearie, 1573.—"We saie merrily of him who hath been in the Counter or such like places of prison: He can sing his counter-tenor very well. And in anger we say, I will make you sing a counter-tenor for this geare: meaning imprison

ment.

Mrs. Ford. Nay, I must tell you, so you do; or else I could not be in that mind.

Rob. [within.] Mistress Ford, mistress Ford! here's mistress Page at the door, sweating and blowing, and looking wildly, and would needs speak with you presently.

Fal. She shall not see me; I will ensconce me behind the arras 12.

Mrs. Ford. Pray you, do so; she's a very tattling [FALSTAFF hides himself.

woman. --

Enter MISTRESS PAGE and ROBIN.

What's the matter? how now?

Mrs. Page. O mistress Ford, what have you done? You're shamed, you are overthrown, you are undone for ever.

Mrs. Ford. What's the matter, good mistress Page?

Mrs. Page. O well-a-day, mistress Ford! having an honest man to your husband, to give him such cause of suspicion!

Mrs. Ford. What cause of suspicion?

Mrs. Page. What cause of suspicion?—Out upon you! how am I mistook in you!

Mrs. Ford. Why, alas! what's the matter?

Mrs. Page. Your husband's coming hither, woman, with all the officers in Windsor, to search for a gentleman, that, he says, is here now in the house, by your consent, to take an ill advantage of his absence: You are undone.

Mrs. Ford. Speak louder.-[Aside.]-Tis not so, I hope.

Mrs. Page. Pray heaven it be not so, that you

12 The spaces left between the walls and wooden frames on which the tapestry was hung, were not more commodious to our ancestors, than to the authors of ancient dramatic pieces.

have such a man here; but 'tis most certain your husband's coming with half Windsor at his heels, to search for such a one. I come before to tell you: If you know yourself clear, why I am glad of it: but if you have a friend here, convey, convey him Be not amazed: call all your senses to you; defend your reputation, or bid farewell to your good life for ever.

out.

Mrs. Ford. What shall I do?-There is a gentleman, my dear friend; and I fear not mine own shame, so much as his peril: I had rather than a thousand pound, he were out of the house.

Mrs. Page. For shame, never stand, you had rather, and you had rather; your husband's here at hand, bethink you of some conveyance: in the house you cannot hide him.-O, how have you deceived me!-Look, here is a basket; if he be of any reasonable stature, he may creep in here; and throw foul linen upon him, as if it were going to bucking: Or, it is whiting-time 13, send him by your two men to Datchet mead.

Mrs. Ford. He's too big to go in there: What shall I do?

Re-enter FALSTAFF.

Fal. Let me see't; let me see't! O let me see't! I'll in, I'll in ;-follow your friend's counsel:-I'll in. Mrs. Page. What! Sir John Falstaff! Are these your letters, knight?

Fal. I love thee, and none but thee 14; help me away: let me creep in here; I'll never.

[He goes into the basket; they cover him with foul linen.

13 Bleaching time.

14 These words, which are characteristic and spoken to Mrs. Page aside, deserve to be restored from the old quarto. He had used the same words before to Mrs. Ford.

Mrs. Page. Help to cover your master, boy: Call you men, mistress Ford:-You dissembling knight!

Mrs. Ford. What, John, Robert, John! [Exit Robin; Re-enter Servants.] Go take up these clothes here, quickly; where's the cowl-staffi5? look, how you drumble 16: carry them to the laundress in Datchet mead 17; quickly, come.

Enter FORD, PAGE, CAIUS, and SIR HUGH
EVANS.

Ford. Pray you, come near: if I suspect without cause, why then make sport at me, then let me be your jest; I deserve it.- -How now? whither bear you this?

Serv. To the laundress, forsooth.

Mrs. Ford. Why, what have you to do whither they bear it? You were best meddle with buckwashing.

Ford. Buck? I would I could wash myself of the buck! Buck! buck! buck? Ay, buck? I warrant you, buck; and of the season too, it shall appear. [Exeunt Servants with the basket.] Gentlemen, I

15 A staff used for carrying a cowl or tub with two handles to fetch water in. "Bicollo, a cowle-staffe to carie behind and before with, as they use in Italy to carie two buckets at once."-Florio's Dictionary, 1598.

16 To drumble and drone meant to move sluggishly. To drumble, in Devonshire, means to mutter in a sullen and inarticulate voice. A drumble drone, in the western dialect signifies a drone or humble-bee. That master genius of modern times, who knows so skilfully how to adapt his language to the characters and manners of the age in which his fable is laid, has adopted this word in The Fortunes of Nigel,' vol. ii. p. 298:-"Why how she drumbles-I warrant she stops to take a sip on the road."

17 Dennis observes that, it is not likely Falstaff would suffer himself to be carried to Datchet mead, which is half a mile from Windsor; and it is plain that they could not carry him, if he made any resistance."

have dreamed to-night; I'll tell you my dream. Here, here, here be my keys: ascend my chambers, search, seek, find out: I'll warrant we'll unkennel the fox :-Let me stop this way first;-So, now uncape

18

Page. Good master Ford, be contented: you wrong yourself too much.

Ford. True, master Page.-Up, gentlemen; you shall see sport anon: follow me, gentlemen. [Exit. Eva. This is fery fantastical humours, and jealousies.

Caius. By gar, 'tis no de fashion of France: it is not jealous in France.

Page. Nay, follow him, gentlemen, see the issue of his search. [Exeunt EVANS, PAGE, and CAIUS. Mrs. Page. Is there not a double excellency in this?

Mrs. Ford. I know not which pleases me better, that my husband is deceived, or Sir John. Mrs. Page. What a taking was he in, when your husband asked who 19 was in the basket!

Mrs. Ford. I am half afraid he will have need of washing; so throwing him into the water will do him a benefit.

Mrs. Page. Hang him, dishonest rascal! I would all of the same strain were in the same distress.

Mrs. Ford. I think my husband hath some special suspicion of Falstaff's being here; for I never saw him so gross in his jealousy till now.

Mrs. Page. I will lay a plot to try that: And we

18 Hanmer proposed to read uncouple; but perhaps uncape had the same signification. It means, at any rate, to begin the hunt after him, when the holes for escape had been stopped.

19 Ritson thinks we should read what. This emendation is supported by a subsequent passage, where Falstaff says: "the jealous knave asked them once or twice what was in the basket." It is remarkable that Ford asked no such question.