Ford. I melancholy! I am not melancholy.

Get you home, go.

Mrs. Ford. Faith thou haft fome 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; fhe fhall be our Meffenger to this paultry Knight.

Enter Mistress Quickly.

Mrs. Ford. Truft me, I thought on her; fhe'll fit it. Mrs. Page. You are come to fee my Daughter Anne? Quick, Ay, Forfooth; and I pray how does good Mistress

Anne?

Mrs. Page. Go in with us and fee; we have an Hour's Talk with you. [Ex. Mrs. Page, Mrs. Ford and Mrs. Quic. Page. How now, Mafter Ford?

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, 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?

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 this Voyage toward 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 mifdoubt my Wife, but I would be loath 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 Hoft 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?

Enter Hoft and Shallow.

Hoft. How now, Bully Rock? Thou'rt a Gentleman, Cavalerio-Juftice, I fay.

Shal. I follow, mine Hoft, I follow. Good Even, and

twenty,

twenty, good Mafter Page. Master 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 Welsh 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 meafuring 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.

Hoft. Haft thou no Suit against my Knight, my GuestCavalier?

Ford. None, I proteft; but I'll give you a Pottle of burnt Sack to give me Recourfe to him, and tell him my Name is Broom; only for a Jeft.

Hoft. My Hand, Bully; thou fhalt have Egrefs and Regrefs; faid I well? and thy Name fhall be Broom. It is a merry Knight. Will you go an-heirs?

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 ftand on Distance, your Paffes, Stoccado's, and I know not what: 'Tis the Heart, Mafter Page; 'tis here, 'tis here. I have feen the time, with my long Sword, I would have made you four tall Fellows skip like Rats. Hoft. Here Boys, here: Shall we wag?

Page. Have with you; I had rather hear them fcold than fight. [Exeunt Hoft, Shallow and Page. Ford. Tho' Page be a fecure Fool, and ftand fo firmly on his Wife's Frailty, yet I cannot put off my Opinion so easily. She was in his Company at Page's Houfe, and what they made there I know not. Well, I will look further into❜t; and I have a Difguife to found Falstaff: If I find her honeft, I lose not my Labour; if the be otherwife, 'tis Labour well beftow'd.

[Exit.

SCENE

SCENE II.

Enter Falftaff and Pistol.

Fal. I will not lend thee a Penny.

Pift. Why then the World's mine Oyfter, which I with Sword 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 Coach-fellow, Nim; 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 Soldiers, and tall Fellows. And when Mistress Briget loft the Handle of her Fan, I took't upon mine Honour thou hadft it not.

Pift. Didft thou not fhare? Hadft thou not fifteen Pence?

Fal. Reafon, you Rogue, Reafon: Think'ft thou I'll endanger my Soul gratis? At a Word; hang no more about me, I am no Gibbet for you: Go, a fhort Knife, and a Throng, to your Manor of Pickt-hatcht; go, you'll not bear a Letter for me, you Rogue; you ftand upon your Honour. Why, thou unconfinable Bafenefs, it is as much as I can do to keep the Term of my Honour precife. I, I, I my felf fometimes, 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 enfconfe your Rags, your Cat-a-Mountain Looks, your Red-Lattice Phrafes, and your bold-beating Oaths, under the Shelter of your Honour! You will not do it, you! Pift. I do relent; what would thou more of Man?

Enter Robin.

Rob. Sir, here's a Woman would speak with you.
Fal. Let her approach.

Enter Mistress Quickly.

Quic. Give your Worship Good-morrow.
Fal. Good-morrow, good Wife.

Quic. Not fo, and't please your Worship.
Fal. Good Maid then.

Quic. I'll be fworn,

As my Mother was the firft Hour I was born.

VOL. I.

L

Fal.

Fal. I do believe the Swearer: What with me?

Quic. Shall I vouchsafe your Worship a Word or two? Fal. Two thousand, fair Woman, and I'll vouchsafe thee the hearing.

Quic. There is one Miftrefs Ford, Sir: I pray come a little nearer this ways: I my felf dwell with Mr. Doctor Caius.

Fal. Well, on: Miftrefs Ford, you say.

Quic. Your Worship fays very true: I pray your Worfhip come a little nearer this ways.

Fal. I warrant thee no body hears; mine own People, mine own People.

Quic. Are they fo? Heav'n blefs them, and make them his Servants.

Fal. Well: Miftrefs Ford, what of her?

Quic. Why, Sir, fhe's a good Creature. Lord, Lord, your Worship's a Wanton; well, Heav'n forgive you, and all of us, I pray

Fal. Miftrefs Ford, come, Mistress Ford.

Quic. Marry, this is the short and the long of it; you have brought her into fuch a Canaries as 'tis wonderful: The best Courtier of them all, when the Court lay at Windfor, could never have brought her to such a Canary. Yet there has been Knights, and Lords, and Gentlemen, with their Coaches; I warrant you Coach after Coach, Letter after Letter, Gift after Gift, smelling fo fweetly; all Musk, and fo rufhling, I warrant you, in Silk and Gold, and in fuch alligant Terms, and in fuch Wine and Sugar of the best, and the faireft, that would have won any Woman's Heart; and I warrant you they could never get an Eye-wink of her. I had my felf twenty Angels given me this Morning; but I defie all Angels, in any fuch fort as they fay, but in the way of Honefty; and I warrant you they could never get her fo much as fip on a Cup with the proudeft of them all; and yet there has been Earls, nay, which is more, Penfioners, but I warrant you all is one with her.

Fal. But what fays fhe to me? Be brief, my good fheMercury.

Quic. Marry, the hath receiv'd your Letter, for the which fhe thanks you a thoufand times; and the gives you to notifie, that her Husband will be abfence from his Houfe between ten and eleven.

Fal.

Fal. Ten and eleven.

Quic. Ay, Forfooth; and then you may come and fee the Picture, the fays, that you wot of: Mafter Ford, her Hufband, will be from home. Alas! the fweet Woman leads an ill Life with him, he's a very jealoufie-Man; he leads a very frampold Life with him, good Heart.

Fal. Ten and eleven:

Woman, commend me to her, I will not fail her.

Quic. Why, you fay well: But I have another Messenger to your Worship; Miftrefs Page has her hearty Commendations to you too; and let me tell you in your Ear, fhe's as fartuous a civil modeft Wife, and one (I tell you) that will not mifs you Morning and Evening Prayer, as any is in Windfor, who-e'er be the other; and the bad me tell your Worship that her Husband is feldom from home, but the hopes there will come a time. I never knew a Woman fo doat upon a Man; furely I think you have Charms, la; yes

in Truth.

Fal. Not I, I affure thee; fetting the Attraction of my good Parts afide, I have no other Charms.

Quic. Bleffing on your Heart for't.

Fal. But I pray thee tell me this; has Ford's Wife and Page's Wife acquainted each other how they love me?

Quic. That were a Jeft indeed; they have not fo little Grace, I hope; that were a Trick indeed! But Miftrefs Page would defire you to fend her your little Page, of all Love: Her Husband has a marvellous Infection to the little Page; and truly Mafter Page is an honeft Man. Never a Wife in Windfor leads a better Life than fhe does; do what fhe will, fay what the will, take all, pay all, go to Bed when the lift, rife when the lift, all is as the will; and truly fhe deferves it, for if there be a kind Woman in Windfor truly he is one. You must fend her your Page; no Remedy.

Fal. Why, I will.

Qaic. Nay, but do so then; and, look you, he may come and go between you both; and, in any cafe, have a Nayword, that you may know one anothers Mind, and the Boy never need to understand any thing; for 'tis not good that Children fhould know any Wickednefs: Old Folks, you know, have Difcretion, as they fay, and know the World.