Mrs. Ford. Which way fhould he go? how should I bestow him? fhall I put him into the basket again?

Fal. No, I'll come no more i'th' basket: may I not go out, ere he come?

Mrs. Page. Alas! alas! three of master Ford's brothers watch the door with piftols, that none should 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 chim

ney.

Mrs. Ford. There they always use 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 difguis'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 mifchief.

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.

Mrs. Ford. Go, go, fweet Sir John; miftrefs Page and I will look fome linen for your head.

Mrs. Page. Quick, quick, we'll come drefs you ftraight; put on the gown the while. [Exit Falstaff.

Mrs. Ford. I would, my husband would meet him in this fhape; he cannot abide the old woman of Brainford; he fwears, fhe's a witch, forbade her my houfe, and hath threatened 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 fadness, 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 shall do with the basket. Go up, I'll bring linen for him ftraight.

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

We'll leave a proof, by that which we will do,
Wives may be merry, and yet honeft 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 master is hard at door; if he bid fet it down, obey him: quickly, dispatch.

you

[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.

1 Serv. I hope not. I had as lief bear fo much lead. SCENE

SCENE IV.

Enter Ford, Shallow, Page, Caius and Evans.

Ford. Ay, but if it prove true, master Page, have you any way to unfool me again?-Set down the basket, villain;-fomebody call my wife-youthIn 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 Ford-you are not to go loose any longer, you must be pinion'd. Eva. Why, this is lunaticks; this is mad as a mad dog.

Enter Mrs. Ford.

Shal. Indeed, mafter Ford, this is not well, indeed. Ford. So fay I too, Sir. Come hither, mistress Ford;-miftrefs Ford, the honest woman, the modet wife, the virtuous creature, that hath the jealous fool to her husband!-I fufpect without caufe, miftrefs,

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, Sirrah. [Pulls the cloaths out of the basket.

Page. This paffes

Mrs. Ford. Are you not afham'd? let the cloathsalone.

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.

Ford. Mafter Page, as I am a man, there was one convey'd out of my houfe yesterday 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 linen.

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 7.

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 Į find not what I feek, fhew no colour for my extremity; let me for ever be your table-sport; let them fay of mè, As jealous as Ford, that fearch'd a hollow wallnut for his wife's leman. Satisfy me once more, once more fearch with me.

Mrs. Ford. What hoa, miftrefs Page, come you, and 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 house? fhe comes of errands, does fhe? we are fimple men, we do not know what's brought to pass under the profeffion of fortune-telling. She works by charms, by fpells, by th' figure; and fuch dawbry as this is beyond our element; we know

7 This wrongs you.] This is below your character, unworthy of your understanding, injurious to your honour. So in the Taming of the Shrew, Bianca being

ill treated by her rugged fifter, fays,

You wrong me much, indeed you wrong yourself.

nothing.

nothing. Come down, you witch; you hag you, come down, I fay.

Mrs. Ford. Nay, good sweet husband; good gentlemen, let him not strike the old woman.

Enter Falstaff in woman's cloaths, and Mrs. Page.

Mrs. Page. Come, mother Prat, come, give me your hand.

8

Ford. I'll Pret 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 fortune-tell 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; I fpy a great peard under her muffler 9.

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 trust me when I open again. Page. Let's obey his humour a little further: come, gentlemen. [Exeunt.

8

Rannion, applied to a woman, means, as far as can be traced, much the fame with fcall and fcab fpoken of a man.

9 Ifpy a great peard under her muffler.] As the fecond ftratagem, by which Falstaff efcapes, is much the groffer of the two, I wish it had been practifed firft. It is very unlikely that Ford hav

ing been fo deceived before, and knowing that he had been deceived, would foffer him to ef cape in fo flight a difguife.

* Cry out upon no trail] The expreffion is taken from the hunters. Trail is the fcent left by the paffage of the game. 7 cry out, is to open or bark.

M m 2

Mrs.