Hoft. Thou art a Caftalion-king-Urinal: Hector of Greece, my Boy.

Cains. I pray you bear Witness, that me have stay fix or feven, two tree Hours for him, and he is no come.

Shal. He is the wifer Man, Mr. Doctor; he is a Curer of Souls, and you a Curer of Bodies: If you should fight, you go against the hair of your Profeffions: Is it not true, Mafter Page?

Page. Mafter Shallow, you have your felf been a great Fighter, tho' now a Man of Peace.

Shal. Body-kins, Mr. Page, tho' I now be old, and of peace, if I fee a Sword out, my Finger itches to make one; tho' we are Juftices, and Doctors, and Church-men, Mr. Page, we have fome Salt of our Youth in us; we are the Sons of Women, Mr. Page.

Page. 'Tis true, Mr. Shallow.

Shal. It will be found fo, Mr. Page. Mr. Doctor Caius, I am come to fetch you home; I am fworn of the Peace; you have fhew'd your felf a wife Phyfician, and Sir Hugh hath fhown himself a wife and patient Church-man: You muft go with me, Mr. Doctor.

Hoft. Pardon, Guest-Juftice; a Monfieur Mock-water.
Caius. Mock-water? Vat is dat?

Hoft. Mock-water, in our English Tongue, is Valour, Bully.

Caius. By gar, then I have as much Mock-water as de English-man: Scurvy-Jack-dog-Prieft; by gar, me vill cut his Ears.

Hoft. He will clapper-claw thee tightly, Bully.
Cains. Clapper-de-claw? Vat is dat?

Hoft. That is, he will make thee amends.

Caius. By gar, me do look he fhall clapper-de-claw me;

for by gar, me vill have it.

Hoft. And I will provoke him to't, or let him wag.
Caius. Me tanck you for dat.

Hoft. And moreover, Bully; but firft, Mr. Guest, and Mr. Page, and eek Cavalerio Slender, go you through the Town to Frogmore.

Page. Sir Hugh is there, is he?

Hoft. He is there; fee what Humour he is in; and I will bring the Doctor about the Fields: Will it do well?

Shal.

Shal. We will do it.

All. Adieu, good Mr. Doctor. [Ex. Page, Shal. and Slen. Caius. By gar, me vill kill de Prieft; for he fpeak for a Jack-an Ape to Anne Page.

Hoft. Let him die; fheath thy Impatience; throw cold Water on thy Choler; go about the Fields with me through Frogmore; I will bring thee where Mistress Anne Page is, at a Farm-Houfe a feafting, and thou shalt woo her Cride-game; faid I well?

Caius. By gar, me dank you vor dat: By gar I love you; and I fhall procure 'a you de good Gueft; de Earl, de Knight, de Lords, de Gentlemen, my Patients.

Hoft. For the which I will be thy Adverfary toward Anne Page: Said I well?

Cains. By gar, 'tis good; vell faid.

Hoft. Let us wag then.

Come at my Heels, Jack Rugby.

ACT III.

[Exeunt.

SCENE I.

Enter Evans and Simple.

Eva and Friend Simple by your Name, which way have

Pray you now, good Mafter Slender's Serving-man,

you look'd for Mafter Caius, that calls himself Doctor of Phyfick.

Simp. Marry Sir, the Pitty-wary, the Park-ward, every way, old Windfor way, and every way but the Town way. Eva. I moft fehemently defire you, you will also look that way.

Simp. I will, Sir.

Eva. 'Plefs my Soul, how full of Chollars I am, and trempling of Mind! I fhall be glad if he have deceiv'd me ; how melanchollies I am! I will knog his Urinals about his Knaves Coftard, when I have good opportunities for the Orke: 'Plefs my Soul: To fhallow Rivers, to whofe Falls melodious Birds fings Madrigalls; There will we make our Peds of Rofes, and a thousand fragrant Pofies. To fhallow; 'Mercy on me, I have a great difpofition to cry. Melodious Birds fing Madrigal When as I fat in Pabilon; and a thousand varam Pofies. To fhallow, &c.

Simp.

Simp. Yonder he is coming, this way, Sir Hugh. Eva. He's welcome. To fhallow Rivers, to whofe Falls---Heaven profper the Right: What Weapons is he?

Simp. No Weapons, Sir; there comes my Mafter, Mr. Shallow, and another Gentleman, from Frogmore, over the Stile, this way.

Eva. Pray you give me my Gown, or else keep it in your

Arms.

Enter Page, Shallow and Slender.

Shal. How now, Mafter Parfon? Good-morrow, good Sir Hugh. Keep a Gamefter from the Dice, and a good Stu dent from his Book, and it is wonderful.

Slen. Ah fweet Anne Page.

Page. Save you, good Sir Hugh.

Eva. 'Plefs you from his Mercy-fake, all of you.
Shal. What? The Sword and the Word?

Do you study them both, Mr. Parfon?

Page. And youthful still, in your Doublet and Hofe, this raw-rumatick Day?

Eva. There is Reasons and Caufes for it.

Page. We are come to you, to do a good Office, Mr. Parfon.

Eva. Ferry well: What is it?

Page. Yonder is a moft reverend Gentleman, who, belike, having receiv'd Wrong by fome Perfon, is at most odds with his own Gravity and Patience, that ever you faw.

Shal. I have liv'd fourfcore Years, and upward; I never beard a Man of his Place, Gravity and Learning, fo wide of his own Refpect.

Eva. What is he?

Page. I think you know him; Mr. Doctor Caius, the renowned French Phyfician.

lief

Eva. Got's Will, and his Paffion of my Heart, I had as you fhould tell me of a mess of Porridge. Page. Why?

Eva. He has no more Knowledge in Hibocrates and Galen; and he is a Knave befides, a cowardly Knave as you would defire to be acquainted withal.

Page. I warrant you, he's the Man fhould fight with him.

Slen. O fweet Anne Page.

Enter

Enter Hoft, Caius and Rugby.

Shal. It appears fo by his Weapons: Keep them afunder; here comes Doctor Caius.

Page. Nay, good Mr. Parfon, keep in your Weapon. Shal. So do you, good Mr. Do&or.

Hoft. Difarm them, and let them queftion; let them keep their Limbs whole, and hack our English.

Caius. I pray you let-a me speak a Word with your Ear: Wherefore vill you not meet-a me?

Eva. Pray you use your Patience in good time.

Cains. By gar, you are de Coward, de Jack Dog, John Ape.

Eva. Pray you let us not be Laughing-ftocks to other Mens Humours; I defire you in Friendship, and will one way or other make you amends: I will knog you your Urinal about your Knave's Cogs-comb.

Cains. Diable Jack Rugby, mine Hoft de Farteer, have I not ftay for him, to kill him? have I not at de Place I did appoint?

Eva. As I am a Chriftian's-foul, now look you, this is the Place appointed; I'll be judgment by mine Hoft of the Garter.

Hoft. Peace, I fay, Gallia and Gaul, French and Welch, Soul-curer and Body-curer.

Cains. Ay dat is very good, excellant.

Hoft. Peace, I fay; hear mine Hoft of the Garter. Am I Politick? am I Subtle? am I a Machivel?

Shall I lofe my Doctor? No; he gives me the Potions and the Motions. Shall I lose my Parfon? my Prieft? my Sir Hugh? No; he gives me the Proverbs and the No-verbs. Give me thy Hand, Celeftial, fo. Boys of Art, I have deceived you both: I have directed you to wrong Places; your Hearts are mighty, your Skins are whole, and let burn'd Sack be the Iffue. Come, lay their Swords to pawn. Follow me, Lad of Peace, follow, follow, follow,

Shal. Truft me, a mad Hoft. Follow, Gentlemen, follow.

Slen. O fweet Anne Page. [Ex. Shal. Slen. Page and Hoft. Caius. Ha' do I perceive dat? Have you make a-de-fot of us, ha, ha?

Eva. This is well, he has made us his Vlowring-ftog: I defire you that we may be Friends; and let us knog our Prains together, to be revenge on this fame fcall Scurvycogging Companion, the Hoft of the Garter.

Cains. By gar, with all my Heart; he promise to bring me where is Anne Page; by gar, he deceive me too. Eva. Well, I will fmite his Noddles; pray you follow. SCENE II.

Enter Mistress Page and Robin.

Mrs. Page. Nay, keep your way, little Gallant; you were wont to be a Follower, but now you are a Leader. Whether had you rather lead mine Eyes, or eye your Master's Heels?

Rob. I had rather, Forfooth, go before you like a Man, than follow him like a Dwarf.

Mrs. Page. O you are a flattering Boy; now I fee you'll be a Courtier.

Enter Ford.

Ford. Well met, Miftrefs Page; whether go you? Mrs. Page. Truly Sir, to fee your Wife; is the at home? Ford. Ay, and as idle as fhe may hang together for want of Company; I think if your Husbands were dead, you two would marry.

Mrs. Page. Be fure of that, two other Husbands.

Ford. Where had you this pretty Weather-cock?

Mrs. Page. I cannot tell what the dickens his Name is my Husband had him of: What do you call your Knight's

Name, Sirrah?

Rob. Sir John Falstaff.

Mrs. Page. He, he; I can never hit on his Name; there is fuch a League between my good Man and he. Is your Wife at home, indeed?

Ford. Indeed fhe is.

Mrs. Page. By your leave, Sir; I am fick 'till I fee her. [Exeunt Mrs. Page and Robin. Ford. Has Page any Brains? hath he any Eyes? hath he any thinking? fure they fleep; he hath no use of them. Why, this Boy will carry a Letter twenty Mile, as eafie as a Cannon will shoot point-blank twelve-fcore; he pieces

out