Enter Mrs. Page. Mrs. Page. How now, fweet heart, who's at home befides yourself? Mrs. Ford. Why, none but mine own people. Mrs. Ford. No, certainly Speak louder. [Afide. Mrs. Page. Why, woman, your husband is in his old lunes again; he fo takes on yonder with my husband, fo rails against all married mankind, fo curfes all Eve's daughters, of what complexion foever, and fo buffets himfelf on the forehead, crying, peer-out, peer-out! that any madness I ever yet beheld feem'd but tameness, civility, and patience, to this diftemper he is in now; I am glad, the fat knight is not here. Mrs. Ford. Why, does he talk of him? Mrs. Page. Of none but him; and fwears, he was carry'd out, the last time he search'd for him, in a basket; protefts to my husband, he is now here; and hath drawn him and the reft of their company from their fport, to make another experiment of his fufpicion; but I am glad, the knight is not here; now he fhall fee his own foolery. Mrs. Ford. How near is he, mistress Page? Mrs. Page. Hard by, at street's end, he will be here anon. Mrs. Ford. I am undone, the knight is here. Mrs. Page. Why, then thou art utterly fham'd, and he's but a dead man. What a woman are you? away with him, away with him; better fhame than murder. Mrs. Ford. Which way fhould he go? how fhould I bestow him? shall I put him into the basket again? Enter Falftaff. Fal. No, I'll come no more i'th' basket: may I not go out, ere he come? Mrs. Mrs Page. Alas! alas! three of mafter Ford's brothers watch the door with piftols, that none should issue out, otherwise you might flip away ere he came : but what make you here? Fal. What fhall I do? I'll creep up into the chimney. Mrs. Ford. There they always ufe to difcharge their birding-pieces; creep into the kill-bole. Fal. Where is it? Mrs. Ford. He will feek there, on my word: neither prefs, coffer, cheft, trunk, well, vault, but he hath an abftract for the remembrance of fuch places, and goes to them by his note; there is no hiding you in the house. Fal. I'll go out then. Mrs. Ford, If you go out in your own femblance, you die, Sir John, unless you go out difguis'd. How might we disguise him? Mrs. Page. Alas-the-day, I know not; there is no woman's gown big enough for him; otherwife, he might put on a hat, a muffler, and a kerchief, and fo efcape. Fal. Good heart, devife fomething; any extremity, rather than mischief. Mrs. Ford, My maid's aunt the fat woman of Brainford, has a gown above. Mrs. Page. On my word, it will ferve him; fhe's as big as he is, and there's her thrum hat, and her muffler too. Run up, Sir John. Mrs. Ford. Go, go, fweet Sir John; mistress Page and I will look fome linnen for your head. Mrs. Page. Quick, quick, we'll come drefs you ftraight; put on the gown the while. [Exit Falfaff. Mrs. Ford, I would, my husband would meet him in this fhape; he cannot abide the old woman of Brainford; he fwears, the's a witch, forbade her my houfe, and hath threatned to beat her. Mrs. Page. Heav'n guide him to thy husband's cudgel, and the devil guide his cudgel afterwards! Mrs. Ford. But is my husband coming? Mrs. Page. Ay, in good fadnefs, is he; and talks of the basket too, however he hath had intelligence. Mrs. Ford. N 3 Mrs. Ford. We'll try that; for I'll appoint my men to carry the basket again, to meet him at the door with it, as they did last time. Mrs. Page. Nay, but he'll be here presently; let's go drefs him like the witch of Brainford. Mrs. Ford. I'll firft direct my men, what they shall do with the basket; go up, I'll bring linnen for him straight. Mrs. Page. Hang him, dishoneft varlet, we cannot mifufe him enough. We'll leave a proof, by that which we will do, We do not act, that often jeft and laugh: 'Tis old but true, Still wine eats all the draugh. Mrs. Ford. Go, Sirs, take the basket again on your fhoulders; your mafter is hard at door; if he bid you fet it down, obey him: quickly, difpatch. [Exeunt Mrs. Page and Mrs. Ford. Enter Servants with the basket. 1 Ser. Come, come, take up. 2 Ser. Pray heav'n it be not full of the knight again. 1 Ser. I hope not. I had as lief bear so much lead. Enter Ford, Shallow, Page, Caius and Evans. Ford. Ay, but if it prove true, mafter Page, have you any way then to unfool me again? fet down the basket, villain; fomebody call my wife youth in a basket!" oh, you panderly rafcals! there's a knot, a gang, a pack, a confpiracy, against me: now fhall the devil be fham'd. What! wife, I fay; come, come forth, behold what honeft cloaths you fend forth to bleaching. Page. Why, this paffes, mafter Fordyou are not to go loofe any longer, you must be pinnion'd. Eva. Why, this is lunaticks; this is mad as a mad dog. 1 Enter Shal. Indeed, mafter Ford, this is not well, indeed. Ford. So fay I too, Sir. Come hither, miftrefs Ford; miflrefs Ford, the honeft woman, the modeft wife, the virtuous creature, that hath the jealous fool to her hufband, I fufpect without caufe, mistress, do I? Mrs. Ford. Heav'n be my witnefs, you do, if you fufpect me in any dishonesty. Ford. Well faid, brazen-face; hold it out: come forth, Sirrah. [Pulls the cloaths out of the basket. Page. This paffes. Mrs. Ford. Are you not afham'd let the cloaths alone. Ford. I fhall find you anon. Eva. 'Tis unreafonable; will you take cloaths come away. Ford. Empty the basket, I fay. Mrs. Ford. Why, man, why up your wife's Ford, Mafter Page, as I am a man, there was one convey'd out of my houfe yefterday in this basket; why may not he be there again? in my houfe I am fure he is; my intelligence is true, my jealoufy is reafonable; pluck me out all the linnen. Mrs. Ford. If you find a man there, he shall die a flea's death. Page. Here's no man. Shal. By my fidelity, this is not well, mafter Ford; this wrongs you. Eva. Malter Ford, you must pray, and not follow the imaginations of your own heart; this is jealoufies. Ford. Well, he's not here I feek for. Page. No, nor no where elfe but in your brain. Ford. Help to fearch my houfe this one time; if I find not what I feek, fhew no colour for my extremity; let me for ever be your table-fport; let them fay of me, as jealous as Ford, that fearched a hollow wall-nut for his wife's leman. Satisfy me once more, once more fearch with me. Mrs. Ford. What hoa, mistress Page! come you, and N 4 the the old woman down; my husband will come into the chamber. Ford. Old woman! what old woman's that? Mrs. Ford. Why, it is my maid's aunt of Brainford. Ford. A witch, a quean, an old cozening quean; have I not forbid her my houfe? fhe comes of errands, does fhe? we are fimple men, we do not know what's brought to pafs under the profeffion of fortune-telling. She works by charms, by spells, by th' figure; and fuch dawbry as this is beyond our element; we know nothing. Come down, you witch; you hag you, come down, I fay. Mrs. Ford. Nay, good fweet husband; good gentlemen, let him not strike the old woman, Enter Falstaff in womens cloaths, and Mrs. Page. Mrs. I age. Come, mother Prat, come, give me your hand. Ford. I'll Prat her. Out of my door, you witch! [Beats him.] you hag, you baggage, you poulcat, you runnion! out, out, out; I'll conjure you, I'll fortunetell you. [Exit Fal. Mrs Page. Are you not asham'd? I think, you have kill'd the poor woman. Mrs. Ford. Nay, he will do it; 'tis a goodly credit for you. Ford. Hang her, witch. Eva. By yea and no, I think, the 'oman is a witch indeed I like not when a 'oman has a great peard ; [ fpy a great peard under her muffler. : Ford. Will you follow, gentlemen? I beseech you follow; fee but the iffue of my jealoufy; if I cry out thus upon no trail, never truft me when I open again. Page. Let's obey his humour a little further: come, gentlemen. [Exeunt. Mrs. Page. Trust me, he beat him moft pitifully. Mrs. Ford. Nay, by th' mafs, that he did not: he beat him most unpitifully, methought. Mrs. Page. I'll have the cudgel hallow'd and hung o'er the altar; it hath done meritorious fervice. Mrs. Ford. What think you may we, with the war rant |