Eva. What is your genitive case plural, William? Will. Genitive case?

Eva. Ay.

Will. Genitive, horum, harum, horum.

Quic. 'Vengeance of Giney's cafe; fy on her! never name her, child, if fhe be a whore.

Eva. For fhame, 'oman.

Quic. You do ill to teach the child fuch words: he teaches him to hick and to hack, which they'll do fast enough of themselves; ́ and to call horum; fy upon you!

Eva. 'Oman, art thou lunacies? haft thou no understanding for thy cafes, and the numbers of the genders? thou art as foolish christian creatures as I would defire.

Mrs Page. Pr'ythee hold thy peace.

Eva. Shew me now, William, fome declenfions of your pronouns.

Will. Forfooth I have forgot.

Eva. It is, ki, ka, cod; if you forget your kies, your kes, and your cods, you must be preeches: go your ways and play, go.

Mrs Page. He is a better scholar than I thought he was.

Eva. He is a good fprag memory. Farewell Mrs Page.

Mrs Page. Adieu, good Sir Hugh. Get you home, boy. Come, we stay too long.

[Exeunt.

Fal. Miftrefs Ford, your forrow hath eaten up my fufferance. I fee you are obfequious in your love, and I profefs requital to a hair's breadth; not only, Mistress Ford, in the fimple office of love, but in all the accouftrement, compliment, and ceremony of it. But are you fure of your husband now? Mrs Ford. He's a-birding, fweet Sir John.

Mrs Page, within.] What hoa, goffip Ford! what hoa!

Mrs Ford. Step into the chamber, Sir John.

Enter Mrs Page.

[Exit Falstaff.

Mrs Page. How now, fweet heart, who's at home befides yourself?

Mrs Ford. Why, none but mine own people.
Mrs Page. Indeed?

Mrs Ford. No, certainly-Speak louder. [Afide. Mrs Page. Truly I am so glad you have no body here

Mrs Ford. Why?

Mrs Page. Why, woman, your husband is in his old lunes again; he fo takes on yonder with my hufband, fo rails againft all married mankind, fo curfes all Eve's daughters, of what complection foever, and fo buffets himself on the forehead, crying, peer-out, peer-out! that any madness I ever yet beheld feem'd but taméness, 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 baf ket; protefts to my hufband he is now here; and hath drawn him and the rest 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 ftreet'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? fhall I put him into the basket again?

Fal. No, I'll come no more i' th' basket: may I Hot go out, ere he come?

Mrs Page. Alas! alas! three of Mafter Ford's brothers watch the door with piftols, that none fhould iffue 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 discharge their birding-pieces; creep into the kill-hole.

Fal. Where is it?

Mrs Ford. He will feek there, on my word. Neither prefs, coffer, cheft, trunk, well, vault, but he hath an abstract 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 disguis'd. How might we difguife him?

Mrs Page. Alas-the-day, I know not. There is no woman's gown big enough for him; otherwise, he might put on a hat, a muffler, and a kerchief, and fo escape.

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 linen for your head.

Mrs Page. Quick, quick, we'll come dress you ftraight; put on the gown the while.

[Exit Falstaff. Mrs Ford. I would my husband would meet him in this shape; he cannot abide the old woman of

Brainford; he fwears fhe's a witch, forbade her my house, 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 hufband coming?

Mrs Page. Ay, in good fadnefs, is he; and talks of the basket too, however he hath had intelligence. 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 first direct my men what they fhall do with the basket. Go up, I'll bring linen for him straight.

Mrs Page. Hang him, dishonest varlet, we cannot misuse him enough.

We'll leave a proof, by that which we will do,
Wives may be merry, and yet honest too.
We do not act, that often jeft and laugh:
'Tis old but true, Still fwine eat 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 Serv. Come, come, take up.

2 Serv. Pray heav'n it be not full of the knight

again.

Serv. I hope not.

I had as lief bear fo much

lead.

Enter Ford, Shallow, Page, Caius and Evans..

Ford. Ay, but if it prove true, Master Page, have you any way then to unfool me again?--Set 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 say;

come, come forth, behold what honeft cloaths you fend forth to bleaching.

Page. Why, this paffes, Mafter Ford-you are not to go loose any longer, you must be pinion'd. Eva. Why, this is lunatics; this is mad as a mad dog.

Enter Mrs Ford.

Shal. Indeed, Master Ford, this is not well indeed. Ford. So fay I too, Sir. Come hither, Miftrefs Ford;-Mistress Ford, the honest woman, the modeft wife, the virtuous creature, that hath the jealous fool to her husband!-I suspect without cause, mistress, do I?

Mrs Ford. Heav'n be my witness you do, if you fufpect me in any dishonesty.

Ford. Well faid, brazen-face; hold it out.Come forth, firrah. [Pulls the cloaths out of the basket. Page. This paffes

Mrs Ford. Are you not asham'd? let the cloaths alone.

Ford. I fhall find you anon.

Eva. 'Tis unreafonable; will you take up your wife's cloaths? come away.

Ford. Empty the basket, I say.
Mrs Ford. Why, man, why-

Ford. Mafter Page, as I am a man, there was one convey'd out of my houfe yesterday in this bafket; why may not he be there again? in my house I am fure he is; my intelligence is true, my jealousy is reasonable; pluck me out all the linen. Mrs Ford. If you find a man there, he fhall die a flea's death.

Page. Here's no man.

Shal. By my fidelity this is not well, Mr Ford; this wrongs you.

Eva. Mafter 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 else but in your brain. Ford. Help to fearch my house this one time; if