Mrs. Page. So will I; if he come under my hatches, I'll never to fea again. Let's be reveng'd on him; let's appoint him a meeting, give him a fhow of comfort in his fuit, and lead him on with a fine baited delay, 'till he hath pawn'd his horfes to mine hoft of the garter.

Mrs. Ford. Nay, I will confent to act any villainy against him that may not fully the charinefs of our honefty: oh that my husband saw this letter! it would give eternal food to his jealoufie.

Mrs. Page. Why, look where he comes, and my good man too; he's as far from jealoufie as I am from giving him caufe; and that, I hope, is an unmeasurable

distance.

Mrs. Ford. You are the happier woman.

Mrs. Page. Let's confult together against this greafe Knight. Čome hither.

Enter Ford with Piftol, Page with Nym.

Ford. Well, I hope it be not fo.

Pift. Hope is a cur-tail-dog in fome affairs.

Sir John affects thy wife.

Ford. Why, Sir, my wife is not young..

Pift. He wooes both high and low, both rich and poor, Both young and old, one with another, Ford;

He loves thy gally-mawfry, Ford, perpend.

Ford. Love my wife?

Pift. With liver burning hot: prevent, or go thou, like Sir Acteon, with Ring-wood at thy heels

is the name.

Ford. What name, Sir?

Pift. The horn, I fay: farewel.

O, odious

Take heed, have open eye; for thieves do foot by night. Take heed ere fummer comes, or cuckoo-birds do fing.

Away; Sir corporal Nym

Believe it, Page, he speaks fenfe.

Ford. I will be patient; I will find out this.

[Exit Pistol.

Nym.

Nym. And this is true: I like not the humour of lying; he hath wrong'd me in fome humours: I fhould have born the humour'd letter to her; but I have a fword, and it fhall bite upon my neceffity. He loves your wife; there's the fhort and the long. My name is Corporal Nym; I fpeak, and I avouch; 'tis true; my name is Nym, and Falstaff loves your wife. Adieu; I love not the humour of bread and cheese: adieu. [Exit Nym.J

Speaking

to Page.

Page. The 'humour of it, quoth 'a? here's a fellow frights humour out of its wits.

Ford. I will feck out Falstaff.

Page. I never heard fuch a drawling, 'affected rogue.' Ford. If I do find it

well!

Page. I will not believe fuch a Cataian, tho' the priest o' th' town commended him for a true man.

Ford. 'Twas a good fenfible fellow: well!

SCENE

Page. How now, Meg?

IV.

[Page and Ford meeting their wives. 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 crotchets in thy head Will you go, miftrefs Page?

now.

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

Enter Miftrefs Quickly.

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

Quic

8 affecting rogue.

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

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

[Exeunt Mrs. Page, Mrs. Ford, and Mrs. Quic.

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 yoak of his discarded 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 lye 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 lye on my head.

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

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

Hoft. How now, bully Rock? thou'rt a gentleman;

cavaliero-juftice, I fay.

Shai

Shal. I follow, mine hoft, I follow. Good even, and twenty, good mafter 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 Prieft, and Caius the French Doctor.

Ford. Good mine hoft o' th' garter, a word with you.
Hoft. What fay'ft thou, bully Rock?

Shal. Will you go with us to behold it? my merry hoft hath had the measuring of their weapons, and, I think, hath appointed them contrary places; for, believe me, I hear the parfon is no jefter. Hark, I will tell you what our sport fhall be.

Heft. Haft thou no fuit against my Knight, my guestcavalier?

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

Hoft. My hand, bully; thou fhalt have egrefs and regrefs; faid I well? and thy name fhall be Brook. It is a merry Knight. Will you go, 'myn-heers?`

9

Shal. Have with you, mine hoft.

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

Shal. Tut, Sir, I could have told you more; in these 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 seen the time, with my long sword, I would have made you four tall fellows skip like rats. Hoft. Here, boys, here, here: fhall we wag? Page. Have with you; I had rather have 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

9 an heirs?... old edit. Theob. emend. I hear

I

2 frailty, old edit. Theob, emend.

...

made

3/made them there` I know not. Well, I will look further into't; and I have a disguise to found Falstaff: if I find her honest, I lose not my labour; if fhe be otherwise, 'tis labour well beftow'd. [Exit.

Enter Falftaff and Piftol.

Fal.I WILL not lend thee a penny.

Pist. Why then the world's mine oyster, which I with fword will open.

Fal. Not a penny. I have been content, Sir, you should lay my countenance to pawn; I have grated upon my good friends for three reprieves for you, and your couchfellow 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 mistress Bridget loft the handle of her fan, I took't upon mine honour thou hadft it not.

Pift. Didft thou not fhare? hadst 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 thong, to your manor of Pickt-batch a; go, you'll not bear a letter for me, you rogue; you stand upon your honour? why, thou unconfinable baseness, it is as much as I can do to keep the term of my honour precife. I my self sometimes, leaving the fear of heaven on the left hand, and hiding mine honour in my neceffity, am fain to fhuffle, to hedge, and to lurch; and yet you rogue will

(a) A noted barbour for thieves and pick-pockets. 3 they made there

Theobald.