of Page and Ford differs! To thy great comfort in this mystery of ill opinions, here's the twin brother of thy letter: but let thine inherit first; for, I protest, mine never shall. I warrant, he hath a thousand of these letters, writ with blank space for different names, (sure more,) and these are of the second edition: He will print them out of doubt. Mrs. Ford. Why, this is the very same; the very hand, the very words: What doth he think of us?

Mrs. Page. Nay, I know not: It makes me almost ready to wrangle with mine own honesty. I'll entertain myself like one that I am not acquainted withal; for, sure, unless he know some strain in me, that I know not myself, he would never have boarded me in this fury. Let's be revenged on him: let's appoint him a meeting; give him a show of comfort in his suit; and lead him on with a finebaited delay, till he hath pawn'd his horses to mine Host of the Garter.

Mrs. Ford. Nay, I will consent to act any villainy against him, that may not sully the chariness 2 of our honesty. O, that my husband saw this letter! it would give eternal food to his jealousy.

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

Mrs. Ford. You are the happier woman.

Mrs. Page. Let's consult together against this greasy knight: Come hither. [They retire.

Enter FORD, PISTOL, PAGE, and NYм.

Ford. Well, I hope, it be not so.

Pist. Hope is a curtail3 dog in some affairs:

Sir John affects thy wife.

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

2 Cautión.

3 A dog that misses his game.

Pist. 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?

Pist. With liver burning hot: Prevent, or go thou,

Like sir Actæon he, with Ring-wood at thy heels: O, odious is the name!

Ford. What name, sir?

Pist. The horn, I say: Farewell.

Take heed; have open eye; for thieves do foot by night:

Take heed, ere summer comes, or cuckoo-birds do sing.

Away, sir corporal Nym.

Believe it, Page; he speaks sense. [Exit PISTOL. Ford. I will be patient; I will find out this.

Nym. And this is true. [To PAGE.] I like not the humour of lying. He hath wronged me in some humours; I should have borne the humoured letter to her but I have a sword, and it shall bite upon my necessity. He love's your wife; there's the short and the long. My name is corporal Nym; I speak, and I avouch. 'Tis true: - my name is Nym, and Falstaff loves your wife. -Adieu! I love not the humour of bread and cheese; and there's the humour of it. Adieu. [Exit NYM.

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

Ford. I will seek out Falstaff.

Page. I. never heard such a drawling, affecting rogue.

Ford. If I do find it, well.

6

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

4 A medley.

6 A lying sharper.

5 Consider.

Ford. 'Twas a good sensible fellow: Well.
Page. How now, Meg?

Mrs. Page. Whither go you, George? - Hark

you,

Mrs. Ford. How now, sweet Frank? why art thou melancholy?

Ford. I melancholy! I am not melancholy.Get you home, go.

Mrs. Ford. Thou hast some crotchets in thy head now. - Will you go, mistress Page.?

Mrs. Page. Have with you.- You'll come to dinner, George?-Look, who comes yonder: she shall be our messenger to this paltry knight. [Aside to Mrs. FORD.

Enter Mistress QUICKLY.

:

Mrs. Ford. Trust me, I thought on her she'll fit it.

Mrs. Page. You are come to see my daughter Anne?

Quick. Ay, forsooth; and, I pray, how does good mistress Anne?

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

[Exeunt Mrs. PAGE, Mrs. FORD, and Mrs. QUICKLY.

Page. How now, master Ford?

Ford. You heard what this knave told me; did you not.

Page. Yes; and you heard what the other told me?

1

Ford. Do you think there is truth in them?

Page. Hang 'em, slaves! I do not think the knight would offer it: but these that accuse him in his intent towards our wives, are a yoke of his discarded men; very rogues, now they be out of service.

Ford. Were they his men?

VOL. I.

Page. Marry, were they.

Ford. I like it never the better for that. — Does he lie at the Garter?

Page. Ay, marry, does he. If he should intend this voyage towards my wife, I would turn her loose to him; and what he gets more of her than sharp words, let it lie 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 lie on my head: I cannot be thus satisfied.

Page. Look, where my ranting host of the Garter comes: there is either liquor in his pate, or money in his purse, when he looks so merrily. How now, mine host?

Enter Host and SHALLOW.

Host. How now, bully-rook? thou'rt a gentleman cavalero-justice, I say.

Shal. I follow, mine host, I follow.-Good even, and twenty, good master Page! Master Page, will you go with us? we have sport in hand.

Host. Tell him, cavalero-justice; tell him bullyrook.

Shal. Sir, there is a fray to be fought, between sir Hugh the Welsh priest, and Caius the French doctor.

Ford. Good mine host o' the Garter, a word with you.

Host. What say'st thou, bully-rook?

[They go aside.

Shal. Will you [to PAGE] go with us to behold it? my merry host hath had the measuring of their weapons; and, I think, he hath appointed them contrary places: for, believe me, I hear, the parson is no jester. Hark, I will tell you what our sport shall be.

Host. Hast thou no suit against my knight, my guest-cavalier?

Ford. None, I protest: but I'll give you a pottle of burnt sack to give me recourse to him, and tell him, my name is Brook; only for a jest.

Host. My hand, bully: thou shalt have egress and regress; said I well? and thy name shall be Brook: It is a merry knight.—Will y go on, hearts?

Shal. Have with you, mine host.

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 passes, stoccadoes, and I know not what: 'tis the heart, master 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.

Host. Here, boys, here, here! shall we wag? Page. Have with you:-I had rather hear them scold than fight.

[Exeunt HosT, SHALLOW, and PAGE.

Ford. Though Page be a secure fool, and stands so firmly on his wife's frailty, yét I cannot put off my opinion so easily: She was in his company at Page's house; and, what they made there, I know not. Well, I will look further into't: and I have a disguise to sound Falstaff: If I find her honest, I lose not my labour; if she be otherwise, 'tis labour well bestowed.

[Exit.