Fal. Go fetch me a Quart of Sack, put a Toft in't. Have I liv'd to be carry'd in a Basket, like a Barrow of Butchers Offal, and to be thrown into the Thames? Well, if I be ferv'd fuch another trick, I'll have my Brains ta'en out and butter'd, and give them to a Dog for a New-years Gift. The Rogues flighted me into the River, with as little Remorfe as they would have drown'd a blind Bitch's Puppies, fifteen i'th' litter; and you may know, by my Size, that I have a kind of alacrity in finking: If the Bottom were as deep as Hell, I fhould down. I had been drown'd, but that the Shore was fhelvy and fhallow; a Death that I abhor; for the Water fwells a Man: And what a Thing should I have been when I had been fwell'd? I fhould have been a Mountain of Mummy.

Bar. Here's Miftrefs Quickly, Sir, to speak with

you.

Fal. Come, let me pour in fome Sack to the ThamesWater; for my Belly's as cold as if I had fwallow'd Snowballs for Pills to cool the Reins. Call her in.

Bard. Come in, Woman.

Enter Mistress Quickly.

Quic. By your Leave: I cry you Mercy. Give your Worship Good-morrow.

Fal. Take away thefe Challices:

Go, brew me a Pottle of Sack finely.
Bard. With Eggs, Sir?

Fal. Simple of it felf: I'll no Pullet-Sperm in my Brewage. How now?

Quic. Marry, Sir, I come to your Worship from Mistress Ford.

Fal. Miftrefs Ford? I have had Ford enough; I was thrown into the Ford; I have my Belly full of Ford.

Quic. Alas the Day! good Heart, that was not her Fault: She does fo take on with her Men; they miftook their Erection.

Fal. So did I mine, to build on a foolish Woman's Promife.

Quic. Well, the laments, Sir, for it, that it would yern your Heart to fee it. Her Husband goes this Morning a birding; the defires you once more to come to her, between eight and nine. I muft carry her Word quickly, she'll make you amends, I warrant you.

Fal.

Fal. Well, I will vifit her; tell her fo, and bid her think what a Man is: Let her confider his Frailty, and then judge of my Merit.

Quic. I will tell her."

Fal. Do fo. Between nine and ten, fay'st thou?

Quic. Eight and nine, Sir.

Fal. Well, be gone; I will not mifs her.

Quic. Peace be with you, Sir.

[Exit.

Fal. I marvel I hear not of Mafter Broom; he fent me

Word to ftay within: I like his Mony well.

Oh, here he comes.

Ford. Blefs you, Sir.

Enter Ford.

Fal. Now, Mafter Broom, you come to know what hath pafs'd between me and Ford's Wife.

Ford. That indeed, Sir John, is my business.

Fal. Mafter Broom, I will not lie to you;

I was at her House the Hour fhe appointed me.
Ford. And you sped, Sir?

Fal. Very ill-favour'dly, Mafter Broom.

Ford. How Sir, did fhe change her Determination? Fal. No, Mr. Broom; but the peaking Cornuto her Huf band, Mr. Broom, dwelling in a continual larum of Jealoufie, comes in the inftant of our Encounter, after we had embrac❜d, kiss'd, protested, and as it were spoke the Prologue of our Comedy; and at his Heels a rabble of his Companions, thither provok'd and inftigated by his Diftemper, and, forfooth, to search his House for his Wife's Love. Ford. What, while you were there?

Fal. While I was there.

Ford. And did he search for you, and could not find you? Fal. You fhall hear. As good Luck would have it, comes in one Mistress Page, gives Intelligence of Ford's Approach, and in her Invention, and Ford's Wife's Diftraction, they convey'd me into a Buck-basket.

Ford. A Buck-basket?

Fal. Yea, a Buck-basket; ramm'd me in with foul Shirts and Smocks, Socks, foul Stockings, and greafie Napkins, that, Master Broom, there was the rankeft Compound of villainous Smell that ever offended Noftril.

Ford. And how long lay you there?

Fa

Fal. Nay, you fhall hear, Mafter Broom, what I have fuffer'd, to bring this Woman to evil, for your good. Being thus cram'd in the Basket, a couple of Ford's Knaves, his Hinds, were call'd forth by their Miftrefs, to carry me in the name of foul Cloaths to Datchet-lane; they took me on their Shoulders, met the jealous Knave their Mafter in the Door, who ask'd them once or twice what they had in their Basket; I quak'd for Fear, leaft the Lunatick Knave would have fearch'd it; but Fate, ordaining he should be a Cuck old, held his Hand. Well, on went he for a fearch, and away went I for foul Cloaths; but mark the fequel, Mafter Broom, I fuffered the pangs of three feveral Deaths: First, an intolerable Fright, to be detected with a jealous rotten Bell-weather; next to be compafs'd, like a good Bilbo, in the circumference of a Peck, hilt to point, heel to head; and then to be stopt in, like a strong Distillation, with stinking Cloaths, that fretted in their own Greafe: Think of that, a Man of my Kidney; think of that, that am as fubject to heat as Butter; a Man of continual diffolution and thaw; it was a miracle to 'fcape Suffocation. And in the height of this Bath, when I was more than half stew'd in Greafe, like a Dutch Difh, to be thrown into the Thames, and cool'd, glowing hot, in that ferge, like a Horfe-fhoe; think of that; hiffing hot, think of that, Mafter Broom.

-Ford. In good fadnefs, Sir, I am forry that for my fake you fuffer'd all this. My Suit is then desperate; you'll undertake her no more?

Fal. Mafter Broom, I will be thrown into Etna, as I have been into Thames, e'er I will leave her thus. Her Husband is this Morning gone a birding; I have receiv'd from her another Ambaffie of meeting; 'twixt eight and nine is the Hour, Mafter Brrom.

Ford. 'Tis paft eight already, Sir.

Fal. Is it? I will then addrefs me to my Appointment. Come to me at your convenient leifure, and you fhall know how I fpeed; and the Conclufion fhall be crown'd with your enjoying her: Adieu, you fhall have her, Mafter Broom, Mafter Broom, you fhall cuckold Ford.

[Exit.

Ford. Hum! Ha! Is this a Vifion? Is this a Dream? Do I fleep? Mafter Ford awake, awake Mafter Ford; there's a Hole made in your best Coat, Mafter Ford: This 'tis to

be

be married! this 'tis to have Linnen and Buck-baskets!
Well, I will proclaim my felf what I am; I will now take
the Leacher; he is at my Houfe; he cannot 'scape me ;
'tis impoffible he fhould; he cannot creep into a Half-penny
Purse, nor into a Pepper-box. But left the Devil that
guides him fhould aid him, I will fearch impoffible places;
tho' what I am I cannot avoid, yet to be what I would
not fhall not make me tame: If I have Horns, to make
one mad, let the Proverb go with me, I'll be horn-mad.
[Exit.

ACT IV.

SCENE I.

Enter Mistress Page, Mistress Quickly and William. Mrs. Page. She at Mr. Ford's already, think'st thou? Quic. Sure he is by this, or will be presently; but truly he is very courageous mad, about his throwing into the Water. Mrs. Ford defires you to come fuddenly. Mrs. Page. I'll be with her by and by; I'll but bring my young Man here to School. Look where his Mafter comes; 'tis a Playing-day I fee. How now, Sir Hugh, no School to Day?

Enter Evans.

Eva. No; Mafter Slender is let the Boys leave to play.
Quic. Bleffing of his Heart.

Mrs. Page. Sir Hugh, my Husband fays my Son profits nothing in the World at his Book; I pray you ask him fome Questions in his Accidence.

Eva. Come hither, William; hold up your Head, come. Mrs. Page. Come Sirrah, hold up your Head; answer your Mafter, be not afraid.

Eva. William, how many Numbers is in Nouns ?
Will. Two.

Quic. Truly, I thought there had been one Number more, because they fay, od's Nowns.

Eva. Peace, your tatlings. What is, Fair, William ?
Will. Pulcher.

Quic. Poulcats? There are fairer things than Poulcats, fure.

a

Eva. You are a very fimplicity o'man; I pray you peace. What is, Lapis, William?

Will. A Stone.

Eva. And what is a Stone, William?

Will. A Pebble.

Eva. No, it is Lapis: I pray you remember in your Prain.

: Will. Lapis.

Eva. That is a good William: What is he, William, that does lend Articles?

Will. Articles are borrow'd of the Pronoun, and be thus deelin'd, Singulariter Nominativo, hic, hac, hoc.

Eva. Nominativo, hig, hag, hog;- pray you mark: Genitivo, hujus: Well, what is your Accufative Cafe? Will. Accufative, hinc.

Eva. I pray you have your remembrance, Child, Accufativo, hing, bang, bog.

Quic. Hang hog is Latin for Bacon. I warrant you.

Eva. Leave you Prabbles, o'man. What is the Focative Cafe, William?

Will. O, Vocativo, O.

Eva. Remember William, Focative, is caret.

Quic. And that's a good Root.

Eva. O'man, forbear.

Mrs. Page. Peace.

Eva. What is your Genitive Cafe Plural, William ?

Wiil. Genitive Cafe?

Eva. Ay.

Will. Genitive, horum, harum, horum.

Quic. 'Vengeance of Ginyes Cafe; fie on her; never name her, Child, if she be a Whore.

Eva, For fhame, o'man,

Quic. You do ill to teach the Child fuch words: He teaches him to hic, and to hac, which they'll do faft enough of themselves; and to call horum; fie upon you.

Eva. O'man, art thou Lunacies? Haft thou no underftandings for thy Cafes, and the Numbers of the Genders? Thou art as foolish Chriftian Creatures as I would defires.

Mrs. Page. Prithee hold thy peace.