Eva. Nay, it is petter yet; give her this Letter; for it is a 'oman that altogethers Acquaintance with Miftrefs Anne Page; and the Letter is to defire, and require her to follicit your Master's Defires to Miftrefs Anne Page: I pray you be gone; I will make an end of my Dinner ; there's Pippins and Cheese to come. [Exeunt.

Enter Falstaff, Hoft, Bardolph, Nym, Pistol and Robin. Fal. Mine Hoft of the Garter.

Hoft. What fays my Bully Rock? fpeak schollarly, and wifely.

Fal. Truly, mine Hoft, I must turn away fome of my

Followers.

Hoft. Difcard, Bully Hercules, cafhier; let them wag; trot, trot.

Fal. I fit at ten Pounds a Week.

Hoft. Thou'rt an Emperor, Cafar, Keifar and Phaezer. I will entertain Bardolph, he will draw, he will tap, said I well, Bully Hector?

A

Fal. Do fo, good mine Hoft.

Hoft. I have spoke, let him follow; let me fee thee froth and live: I am at a word; follow.

[Exit Hoft. Fal. Bardolph follow him, a Tapfter is a good Trade; an old Cloak makes a new Jerkin; a wither'd Serving-man, a fresh Tapster; go, adieu.

Bard. It is a Life that I have defir'd: I will thrive.

[Exit Bard. Pift. Obafe Hungarian Wight, wilt thou the Spigot wield. Nym. He was gotten in Drink; is not theHumour conceited. Fal. I am glad I am fo acquit of this Tinderbox; his Thefts were too open, his Filching was like an unskilful Singer, he kept not time.

Nym. The good Humour is to fteal at a Minute's rest. Pift. Convey, the Wife it call: Steal? foh; a fico for the Phrafe.

Fal. Well, Sirs, I am almost out at Heels.

Pift. Why then let Kibes enfue.

Fal. There is no remedy: I must conicatch, I must shift. Pift. Young Ravens must have Food.

Fal. Which of you know Ford of this Town?

Pift. I ken the Wight, he is of Subftance good.
Fal. My honeft Lads, I will tell you what I am about.
Pift. Two Yards and more.

Fal. No Quips now, Piftol: Indeed I am in the Waste two Yards about; but I am now about no Waste, I am about Thrift. Briefly, I do mean to make Love to Ford's Wife: I spy Entertainment in her; fhe difcourfes, the carves, fhe gives the Leer of Invitation; I can construe the Action of her familiar Stile, and the hardest Voice of her Behaviour, to be english'd right, is, I am Sir John Falstaff's.

Pift. He hath ftudy'd her Will, and tranflated her Will, out of Honefty into English.

Nym. The Anchor is deep; will that Humour pass?

Fal. Now, the Report goes, fhe has all the Rule of her Husband's Purse: He hath a Legend of Angels.

Pift. As many Devils entertain; and to her, Boy, fay I. Nym. The Humour rifes; it is good; humour me the Angels.

Fal. I have writ me here a Letter to her; and here another to Page's Wife, who even now gave me good Eyes too, examin'd my Parts with moft judicious Illiads; fometimes the Beam of her view guided my Foot, fometimes my portly Belly.

Pit. Then did the Sun on Dung-hill shine.

Nym. I thank thee for that Humour.

Fal. O fhe did fo courfe o'er my Exteriors with fuch a greedy Intention, that the Appetite of her Eye did feem to fcorch me up like a Burning-glafs: Here's another Letter to her; the bears the Purfe too; fhe is a Region in Guiana, all Gold and Bounty. I will be Cheaters to them both, and they fhall be Exchequers to me; they fhall be my East and Weft-Indies, and I will trade to them both. Go, bear thou this Letter to Mistress Page; and thou this to Miftrefs Ford: We will thrive, Lads, we will thrive.

Pift. Shall I Sir Pandarus of Troy become;

And by my Side wear Steel? Then Lucifer take all
Nym. I will run no bafe Humour: Here take the Hu-
mour-Letter, I will keep the Haviour of Reputation.
Fal. Hold, Sirrah, bear you thefe Letters rightly,
Sail like my Pinnace to thefe golden Shores.

Rogues,

Rogues, hence, avaunt, vanish like Hail-ftones; go,
Trudge, plod away o'th' hoof, feek fhelter, pack:
Falfaff will learn the Honour of the Age,

French Thrift, you Rogues, my felf, and skirted Page.

[Exit. Falftaff and Boy.

Pift. Let Vultures gripe thy Guts; for Gourd, and Fullam holds; and high and low beguiles the rich and poor. Tefter I'll have in Pouch when thou shalt lack,

Base Phrygian Turk.

Nym. I have Operations,

Which be Humours of Revenge.

Pift. Wilt thou revenge?

Nym. By Welkin and her Star.
Pift. With Wit, or Steel?

Nym. With both the Humours, I:

I will difcufs the Humour of this Love to Ford.

Pift. And I to Page fhall eke unfold

How Falftaff, Varlet vile,

His Dove will prove, his Gold will hold,
And his foft Couch defile.

Nym. My Humour shall not cool; I will incenfe Ford to deal with Poifon, I will poffefs him with Yellowness, for the Revolt of mine is dangerous: That is my true Hu

mour.

Pift. Thou art the Mars of Male contents: I fecond thee; troop on. [Exeunt.

SCENE IV.

Enter Mistress Quickly, Simple and John Rugby..

Quic. What, John Rugby! I pray thee go to the Cafement, and fee if you can fee my Mafter, Malter Doctor Caius, coming; if he do, I'faith, and find any body in the House, here will be an old abusing of God's Patience, and the King's English.

Rug. I'll go watch.

[Exit Rugby.

Quic. Go, and we'll have a Poffet for't foon at Night, in Faith, at the latter end of a Sea-coal Fire: An honeft, willing, kind Fellow, as ever Servant fhall come in House withal, and I warrant you no Tell-tale, nor no Breed-bate; his worst Fault is that he is given to Pray'r, he is fome

K 4

thing

Slen. I may quarter, Coz.

Shal. You may, by marrying.

Eva. It is marring indeed, if he quarter it.
Shal. Not a whit.

Eva. Yes per-lady; if he has a quarter of your Coat, there is but three Skirts for your felf, in my fimple Conjectures; but that is all one: If Sir John Falstaff have committed Difparagements unto you, I am of the Church, and will be glad to do my Benevolence, to make Atonements and Compremifes between you.

Shal. The Council fhall hear it; it is a Riot.

Eva. It is not meet the Council hear of a Riot; there is no Fear of Got in a Riot: The Council, look you, shall defire to hear the Fear of Got, and not to hear a Riot; take viza-ments in that.

you

Shal. Ha; o' my Life, if I were young again, the Sword fhould end it.

Eva. It is petter that Friends is the Sword, and end it; and there is also another Device in my Prain, which peradventure prings good Difcretions with it: There is Anne Page, which is Daughter to Mafter Thomas Page, which is pretty Virginity.

Slen. Miftrefs Anne Page? fhe has brown Hair, and speaks like a Woman.

Eva. It is that ferry Perfon for all the Orld, as juft as you will defire; and feven hundred Pounds of Monies, and Gold, and Silver, is her Grand-fire upon his Deaths-bed (Got deliver to a joyful Refurrections) give, when she is able to overtake seventeen Years old: It were a good Motion, if we leave our pribbles and prabbles, and defire a Marriage between Mafter Abraham, and Mistress Anne Page.

Slen. Did her Grand-fire leave her feven hundred Pound? Eva. Ay, and her Father is make her a petter Penny. Slen. I know the young Gentlewoman; fhe has good Gifts.

Eva. Seven hundred Pounds, and poffibility is goot Gifts.

Shal. Well; let us fee honeft Mr. Page: Is Falstaff there?

Eva. Shall I tell you a Lie? I do defpife a Liar as I do defpife one that is falfe; or as I defpife one that is not true. The Knight, Sir John, is there; and I befeech you be ruled by your Well-wishers. I will peat the Door [Knocks] for Mafter Page. What hoa? Got blefs your House here. Enter Mr. Page.

Page. Who's there?

Eva. Here is Got's pleffing, and your Friend, and Juftice Shallow; and here's young Mafter Slender; that peradventures fhall tell you another Tale, if matters grow to your likings.

Page. I am glad to fee your Worship's well: I thank you for my Venifon, Mafter Shallow.

Shal. Mafter Page, I am glad to fee glad to fee you; much good do it your good Heart: I wifh'd your Venifon better; it was ill kill'd. How doth good Mistress Page? And I thank you always with my Heart, la; with my Heart.

Page. Sir, I thank

you.

Shal. Sir, I thank you; by yea and no I do.

Page. I am glad to fee you, good Mafter Slender. Slen. How do's your fallow Greyhound, Sir? I heard fay, he was out-run on Cotfale.

Page. It could not be judg'd, Sir.

Slen. You'll not confefs, you'll not confefs.

Shal. That he will not, 'tis your fault, 'tis your fault; 'tis a good Dog.

Page. A Cur, Sir.

Shal. Sir, he's a good Dog, and a fair Dog; can there be more faid? He is good and fair. Is Sir John Falstaff here ?

Page. Sir, he is within; and I would I could do a good Office between you.

Eva. It is fpoke as a Chriftians ought to speak.

Shal. He hath wrong'd me, Mafter Page.

Page. Sir, he doth in fome fort confefs it.

Shal. If it be confefs'd, it is not redrefs'd; is not that fo, Mr. Page? He hath wrong'd me, indeed he hath, at a word he hath, believe me, Robert Shallow, Efquire, faith, he is wrong'd.

Page. Here comes Sir John.

Enter