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She fhall go with him. Her mother hath intended,
The better to devote her to the Doctor,
(For they must all be mask'd and vizarded)
That, quaint in green, the fhall be loose enrob'd,
With ribbands-pendent, flaring 'bout her head;
And when the Doctor fpies his vantage ripe
To pinch her by the hand, upon that token
The maid hath given confent to go with him.
Hoft. Which means fhe to deceive? father or mother?
Fent. Both, my good hoft, to go along with me;
And here it refts, that you'll procure the vicar
To ftay for me at church, 'twixt twelve and one,
And in the lawful name of marrying,

To give our hearts united ceremony.

Hoft. Well, hufband you device; I'll to the vicar. Bring you the maid, you fhall not lack a priest.

Fent. So fhall I evermore be bound to thee; Befide, I'll make a prefent recompence. [Exeunt. SCENE XII. Re-enter Falstaff and Miftrefs Quickly. Fal. Pry'thee, no more pratling; go, I'll hold. This is the third time; I hope good luck lyes in odd numbers; away, go; they fay there is divinity in odd numbers, either in nativity, chance or death; away.

Quic. I'll provide you a chain, and I'll do what I can to get you a pair of horns. [Exit Mifirefs Quickly. Fal. Away, I fay, time wears : hold up your head and mince. [Enter Ford.] How now, mafter Brook ? master Brook, the matter will be known to-night, or never. Be you in the park about mid-night at Herne's Oak, and you shall fee wonders.

Ford. Went you not to her yesterday, Sir, as you told me you had appointed?

Fal. I went to her, master Brook, as you fee, like a poor old man; but I came from her, mafter Brook, like a poor old woman. That fame knave, Ford her husband, hath the finest mad devil of jealoufie in him, mafter Brook, that ever govern'd frenzy. I will tell you, he beat me grievously, in the shape of a woman; for in the shape of a man, master Brook, I fear not Goliah with a weaver's beam; because I know alfo life is a fhuttle; I am in



hafte; go along with me, I'll tell you all, mafter Brook.
Since I pluckt geefe, play'd truant, and whipt top, I
knew not what 'twas to be beaten, 'till lately. Follow me,
I'll tell you ftrange things of this knave Ford, on whom
to-night I will be reveng'd, and I will deliver his wife into
your hand. Follow; ftrange things in hand, mafter Brook;

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Windfor-Park. Enter Page, Shallow and Slender. OME, come; we'll couch i'th' caftle-ditch, 'till we fee the light of our fairies. Remember, fon Slender, my daughter.

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Slen. Ay forfooth, I have spoke with her, and we have a nay-word how to know one another, I come to her in white and cry mum, fhe cries budget, and by that we know one another.

Shal. That's good too; but what needs either your mum, or her budget; the white will decipher her well enough, it hath ftruck ten a-clock.

Page. The night is dark, light and fpirits will become it well; heav'n profper our fport! No one means evil but the devil, and we fhall know him by his horns. Let's away; follow me. [Exeunt.


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Mrs. Page. Mr. Doctor, My daughter is green; when you fee your time, take her by the hand, away with her to the Deanry, and dispatch it quickly; go before into the park; we two must go together.

Caius. I know vat I have to do; adieu.


Mrs. Page. Fare you well, Sir. My husband will not rejoice fo much at the abufe of Falstaff, as he will chafe at the Doctor's marrying my daughter: but 'tis no matter; better a little chiding than a great deal of heart-break.

Mrs. Ford. Where is Nan now, and her troop of fairies, and the Welch devil Evans?

Mrs. Page. They are all couch'd in a pit hard by Herne's Oak, with obfcur'd lights; which, at the very inftant of

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Falstaff's and our meeting they will at once difplay to the night.

Mrs. Ford. That cannot chufe but amaze him.

Mrs. Page. If he be not amaz'd he will be mock'd; if he be amaz'd he will be mock'd.

Mrs. Ford. We'll betray him finely.

Mrs. Page. Against fuch lewdfters, and their leachery, Thofe that betray them do no treachery.

Mrs. Ford. The hour draws on; to the Oak, to the Oak.

Enter Exans and Fairies.


Eva. Trib, trib, fairies; come and remember your parts: be pold, I pray you, follow me into the pit, and when I give the watch-'ords do as I pid you: come, come; trib, trib. [Exeunt. SCENE III. Enter Falstaff, with a Buck's head on. Fal. The Windfor bell hath ftruck twelve, the minute draws on; now the hot-blooded gods affift me! Remembet, Jove, thou waft a bull for thy Europa; love fet on thy horns. Oh powerful love! that in fome respects makes a beaft a man; in fome other, a man a beast. You were allo, Jupiter, a fwan, for the love of Leda: oh omnipotent love! how near the god drew to the complexion of a goofe! A fault done firft in the form of a beast. O Jove, a beaftly fault; and then another fault in the femblance of a fowl; think ont't, Jove, a foul fault. When gods have hot backs, what shall poor men do? for me, I am here a Windfor ftag, and the fatteft, I think, i'th' foreft. Send me a cool rut-time, Jove, who can blame me to pifs my tallow? who comes here? my doe?.

Enter Mifirefs Ford and Miftrefs Page.

Mrs. Ford. Sir John? art thou there, my deer? my male-deer?

Fal. My doe with the black fcut? let the fky vain potatoes, let it thunder to the tune, of Green-Sleeves, hail kiffing-comfits, and fnow eringoes; let there come a tempeft of provocation, I will shelter me here.

Mrs. Ford. Miftrefs Page is come with me, fweet heart. Fal. Divide me like a bribe-buck, each a haunch; I will keep my fides to my felf, my shoulders for the fellow


of this walk, and my horns I bequeath your husbands. Am I a woodman, ha? Speak I like Herne the hunter? why, now is Cupid a child of confcience, he makes reftitution. As I am a true fpirit, welcome. [Noife within.

Mrs. Page. Alas! what noife?

Mrs. Ford. Heav'n forgive our fins!
Fal. What fhould this be?

Mrs. Ford. Mrs. Page. Away, away. [The women run out. Fal. I think the devil will not have me damn'd, left the oil that is in me fhould fet hell on fire; he would never elfe cross me thus.

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Enter Sir Hugh dreft like a Satyr, Quickly and others like Fairies, with tapers.

Quic. Fairies, black, gray, green, and white, You moon-fhine revellers, and fhades of night, You ouphen-heirs of fixed destiny,

Attend your office, and your quality.

Crier hobgoblin, make the fairy o-yes.

Eva. Elves, lift your names; filence, you airy toys.

[To be spoken with a Welch accent

Cricket to Windfor chimneys fhalt thou leap:

Where fires thou find'ft unrak'd, and hearths unswept,
There pinch the maids as blue as bilberry.
Our radiant Queen hates fluts and fluttery.

Fal. They're fairies, he that speaks to them fhall die.
I'll wink and couch; no man their works muft eye.

[Lyes down upon his face. Eva. Where's Bede? go you, and where you find a


[With a Welch accent.

That ere fhe fleep hath thrice her prayers faid,

Reign up the organs of her fantafie,

Sleep the as found as careless infancy!

But thofe that fleep and think not on their fins,

Pinch them, arms, legs, backs, fhoulders, fides and fhins.

Quic. About, about;

Search Windfor caftle, elves, within and out.

Strew good luck, ouphes, on every facred room,
That it may stand 'till the perpetual doom,

In fite as wholfome, as in state 'tis fit;
Worthy the owner, as the owner it.

The feveral chairs of Order look you fcour
With juice of balm and ev'ry precious flow'r;
Each fair inftalment, coat and fev'ral creft,
With loyal blazon évermore be bleft!
And nightly-meadow-fairies, look you
Like to the Garter-compass, in a ring:
Th' expreffure that it bears, green let it be,
More fertile fresh than all the field to fee;
And, Hony Soit Qui Mal-y-Penfe write,
In emrold-tuffs, flow'rs purple, blue and white,
Like faphire-pearl, and rich embroidery,
Buckled below fair Knight-hood's bending knee;
Fairies ufe flow'rs for their charactery.
Away, difperfe; but 'till 'tis one a clock
Our dance of cuftom round about the Oak
Of Herne the hunter let us not forget..

Eva. Lock hand in hand, your felves in order fet:


[With a Welch accent. And twenty glow-worms shall our lanthorns be To guide our measure round about the tree. But ftay, I fmell a man of middle earth.

Fal. Heav'ns defend me from that Welch fairy, left he transform me to a piece of cheese !

Eva. Vile worm, thou waft o'er-look'd ev'n in thy birth,
Quic. With tryal-fire touch me his finger end;

If he be chafte, the flame will back defcend

And turn him to no pain; but if he start,

It is the flesh of a corrupted heart.

Eva. A tryal, come.

[They burn him with their tapers, and pinch him.

Come, will this wood take fire?

Fal. Oh, oh, oh!

Quic. Corrupt, corrupt, and tainted in defire; About him, fairies, fing a scornful rhime.

And as you trip, ftill pinch him to your time.

The SON G.

Fie on fimple phantafie:
Fie on luft and luxury:


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