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the excellency of her honour, that the folly of my foul dares not prefent itself; fhe is too bright to be look'd against. Now could I come to her with any detection in my hand, my defires had inftance and argument to commend themselves; I could drive her then from the ward of her purity, her reputation, her marriage-vow, and a thousand other defences, which now are too ftrongly embattel'd against me. What fay you to't, Sir John?

Fal. Mafter Brook, I will firft make bold with your mony; next, give me your hand; and laft, as I am a gentle➡ man, you fhall, if you will, enjoy Ford's wife.

Ford. O good Sir!

Fal. I fay, you fhall.

Ford. Want no mony, Sir John, you fhall want none. Fal. Want no miftrefs Ford, mafter Brook, you shall want none; I fhall be with her, I may tell you, by her own appointment. Even as you came in to me, her affiftant, or go-between, parted from me; I fay, I fhall be with her between ten and eleven; for at that time the jealous rafcally krave, her husband, will be forth; come you to me at night, you fhall know how I fpeed.

Ford. I am bleft in your acquaintance: do you know Ford, Sir?

Fal. Hang him, poor cuckoldy knave, I know him not: yet I wrong him, to call him poor; they say the jealous wittolly knave hath maffes of mony, for the which his wife feems to me well-favour'd. I will ufe her as the key of the cuckold-rogue's coffer; and there's my harvest home.

Ford. I would you knew Ford, Sir, that you might avoid him, if you saw him.

Fal. Hang him, mechanical falt-butter rogue; I will ftare him out of his wits; I will awe him with my cudgel; it fhall hang like a meteor o'er the cuckold's horns. Mafter Brook, thou shalt know I will predominate over the peafant, and thou fhalt lye with his wife: Come to me foon at night; Ford's a knave, and I will aggravate his stile : thou, mafter Brook, fhalt know him for knave and cuckold come to me foon at night.

T 3




Ford. What a damn'd Epicurean rafcal is this! my heart is ready to crack with impatience. Who fays this is improvident jealoufie? my wife hath fent to him, the hour is fixt, the match is made; would any man have thought this? fee the hell of having a falfe woman; my bed shall be abus'd, my coffers ranfack'd, my reputation gnawn at, and I fhall not only receive this villainous wrong, but stand under the adoption of abominable terms, and by him that does me the wrong; terms! names! Amaimon founds well, Lucifer well,. Barbafon well, yet they are devils additions, the names of fiends: but cuckold, wittol, cuckold! the devil himself hath not fuch a name. Page is an afs, a fecure afs, he will truft his Wife; he will not be jealous: I will rather truft a Fleming with my butter, parfon Hugh the Welchman with my cheese, an Irishman with my Aqua-vita bottle, or a thief to walk my ambling gelding, than my wife with herfelf: then the plots, then the ruminates, then fhe devifes; and what they think in their hearts they may effect, they will break their hearts but they will effect. Heav'n be prais'd for my jealousy! Eleven o'clock the hour; I will prevent this, detect my wife, be reveng'd on Falstaff, and laugh at Page: I will about it: better three hours too foon than a minute too late. Fie, fie, fie; cuckold, cuckold, cuckold! [Exit




Enter Caius and Rugby.

Caius. Jack Rugby!

Rug. Sir.

Caius. Vat is de clock, Jack?

Rug. 'Tis paft the hour, Sir, that Sir Hugh promis'd to


Caius. By gar, he has fave his foul, dat he is no come; he has pray his pible well, dat he is no come; by gar, Jack Rugby, he is dead already, if he be come.

Rug. He is wife, Sir; he knew your worship would kill him, if he came.

Caius. By gar, de herring is not fo dead as me vill make him. Take your rapier, Jack, I vill tell you how I vill kill him.



Rug. Alas, Sir, I cannot fence
Caius. Villany, take your rapier.
Rug. Forbear; here's company.

Enter Hoft, Shallow, Slender and Page.

Hoft. Blefs thee, bully-Doctor.
Shal. 'Save you, Mr. Doctor Caius,
Page. Now, good Mr. Doctor.

Slen. Give you good-morrow, Sir.

Caius, Vat be all you, one, two, tree, four, come for? Hoft. To fee thee fight, to fee thee foigne, to see thee traverse, to see thee here, to fee thee there, to see thee país thy puncto, thy ftock, thy reverse, thy diftance, thy montant. Is he dead, my Ethiopian? Is he dead, my Francifco? ha, bully? what fays my Efculapius ? my Galen? my heart of elder? ha? is he dead, bully-ftale? is he dead?

Caius. By gar, he is de coward Jack-priest of de varld he is not fhow his face.

Hoft. Thou art a Cardalion *, king Urinal, Hector of Greece, my boy.

Caius. I pray you, bear witnefs dat me have ftay from 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 fouls, 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 yourself 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 fword out, my finger itches to make one; though we are Juftices, and Doctors, and Church-men, Mr. Page, we have fome falt of our youth in us; we are the fons 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 yourself a wife phyfician, and Sir Hugh hath shown himself a wife and patient churchman: you muft go with me, Mr. Doctor.

* He means to fay Coeur de lion.


Hoft. Pardon, gueft-justice; ah! monfieur mock-water! Caius. Mock-vater? vat is dat ?

Hoft. Mock-water, in our English tongue, is valour, bully.

Caius. By gar, den I have as much mock-vater as de Englishman, fcurvy-jack-dog-prieft; by gar, me vill cut his ears.

Hoft. He will clapper-claw thee tightly, bully.
Caius. Clapper-de-claw? vat is dat ?

Hoft. That is, he will make thee amends.

Caius. By gar, me do look he shall 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 tank you for dat.

Hoft. And moreover, bully; but first, Mr. Gueft, and Mr. Page, and eek Cavaliero 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. 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; but fheath thy impatience; throw cold water on thy choler; go about the fields with me through Frogmore; I will bring thee where Mrs. Anne Page is, at a farm-house a feafting, and thou shalt woo her, cock o' th' game; faid I well?

Caius. By gar me tank 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 adversary toward Anne Page: faid I well?

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

Hoft. Let us wag then.

Caius, Come at my heels, Jack Rugby,



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Frogmore near Windfor. Enter Evans and Simple.

Pray you now, good after Slender's fervingman, and friend Simple by your name, which way have you look'd for mafter Caius, that calls himself Doctor of Phyfick?

Simp. Marry, Sir, the Pitty-wary, the Park-ward, old Windfor way, and every way but the town way.

Eva. I moft fehemently defire you, you will alfo 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 knave's coftard, when I have good opportunities for the orke: 'Plefs my Soul! [Sings, being afraid. By fhallow rivers, to whofe falls Melodious birds fing madrigalls

By phallow

to cry.

There will we make our peds of roses,
And a thousand vragrant pofies.

'Mercy on me, I have a great difpofitions Melodious birds fing madrigalls when as I fat By fhal

in Pabilon; and a thousand vragrant pofies.
low, &c.

Simp. Yonder he is coming, this way, Sir Hugh.
Eva. He's welcome. By fhallow rivers, to whofe falls-
Heav'n profper the right! what weapons is he?

Simp. No weapons, Sir; there comes my mafter Mr. Shallow, and another gentleman, from Frogmore, over the ftile, this way.

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Eva. Pray you, give me my gown, or elfe keep it in your arms.

SCENE II. Enter Page, Shallow and Slender. Shal. How now, mafter Parfon? good-morrow, good Sir Hugh. Keep a gamefter from the dice, and a good ftudent 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.


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