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Luft is but i'th blood a fire,
Enter Page, Ford, &c. They lay hold on him.
Mrs. Page. I pray you, come, hold up the jeft no higher.
[Pointing to the horns.
Become the foreft better than the town?
Ford. Now, Sir, who's a 'cuckold now ? master Brook, Falstaff's a knave, a cuckoldy knave, here are his horns, master Brook; and, master Brook, he hath enjoy'd nothing of Ford's but his buck-basket, his cudgel, and twenty pounds of mony, which must be paid to mafter Braak; his horfes are arrefted for it, master Brook.
Mrs. Ford. Sir John we have had ill luck; we could never meet. I will never take you for my love again, but I will always count you my deer.
Fal. I do begin to perceive that I am made an ass.
Fal. And these are not fairies: I was three or four times in the thought they were not fairies, and yet the guiltiness of my mind, with the fudden furprize of my powers, drove the groffnefs of the foppery into a receiv'd belief, in defpight of the teeth of all rhime and reason, that they were fairies. See now how wit may be made a jack-a-lent, when 'tis upon ill imployment.
Eva. Sir John Falstaff, ferve Got, and leave your defires, and fairies will not pinfe you.
Ford. Well faid, fairy Hugh.
Eva. And leave you your jealoufies too, I pray you.
Ford. I will never mistrust my wife again, 'till thou art able to woo her in good English.
Fal. Have I laid my brain in the fun, and dry'd it, that it wants måtter to prevent fo grofs o'er-reaching as this? am I ridden with a Welch goat too? fhall I have a coxcomb of frize? 'tis time I were choak'd with a piece of toafted cheese.
Eva. Seefe is not good to give putter; your pelly is all putter.
Fal. Seefe and putter ? have I liv'd to stand in the taunt of one that makes fritters of English? this is enough to be the decay of luft and late-walking, through the realm.
Mrs. Page. Why, Sir John, do you think, though we would have thruft virtue out of our hearts by the head and fhoulders, and have given our felves without fcruple to hell, that ever the devil could have made you our delight? Ford. What, a hodge-pudding? a bag of flax? Mr. Page. A puft man?
Page. Old, cold, wither'd, and of intolerable entrails? Ford. And one that is as flanderous as Satan?
Page. And as poor as Job?
Ford. And as wicked as his wife?
Eva. And given to fornications, and to taverns, and facks and wines and metheglins, and to drinkings, and fwearings, and ftarings, pribbles and prabbles?
Fal. Well, I am your theme; you have the ftart of me, I am dejected; I am not able to answer the Welch flannel; ignorance it self is a plummet o'er me; use me as you will.
Ford, Marry, Sir, we'll bring you to Windfor to one Mr. Brook, that you have cozen'd of mony, to whom you fhould have been a pander: over and above that you have fuffer'd, I think, to repay that mony will be a biting affliction.
Page. Yet be cheerful, Knight, thou fhalt eat a poffet to-night at my houfe, where I will defire thee to laugh at my wife, that now laughs at thee. Tell her Mr. Slender hath marry'd her daughter.
Mrs. Page. Doctors doubt that; if Anne Page be my daughter, the is, by this, Doctor Caius's wife.
SCENE VI. Enter Slender.
Slen. What hoe! hoe! father Page!
Page. Son, how now! how now, fon, have you difpatch'd?
Slen. Dispatch'd? I'll make the best in Gloucestershire know on't; would I were hang'd la, else. Page. Of what, fon?
Slen. I came yonder at Eaton to marry miftrefs Anne Page, and fhe's a great lubberly boy. If it had not been i'th church, I would have swing'd him, or he should have fwing'd me. If I did not think it had been Anne Page, would I might never ftir, and 'tis a post-mafter's boy.
Page. Upon my life, then you took the wrong.
Slen. What need you tell me that? I think fo, when I' took a boy for a girl; if I had been marry'd to him, for all he was in woman's apparel, I would not have had him.
Page. Why, this is your own folly. Did not I tell you how you should know my daughter by her garments?
Slen. I went to her in white and cry'd mum, and the cry'd budget, as Anne and I had appointed, and yet it was not Anne, but a post-master's boy.
Mrs. Page. Good George, be not angry; I knew of your purpose, turn'd my daughter into green, and indeed she is now with the Doctor at the Deanry, and there marry'd, SCENE VII. Enter Caius.
Caius. Ver is mistress Page? by gar, I am cozen'd, I ha' married one garfoon, a boy? one pefant, by gar. A boy; it is not Anne Page, by gar, I am cozen'd.
Mrs. Page. Why? did you not take her in green?
Ford. This is ftrange: who hath got the right Anne ?
Anne. Pardon, good father; good my mother, pardon.
Mrs. Page, Why went you not with Mr. Doctor, maid?
You would have marry'd her most shamefully,
Fal. I am glad, tho' you have ta'en a special stand to Strike at me, that your arrow hath glanc'd.
Page. Well, what remedy? Fenton, heav'n give thee joy! What cannot be efchew'd, must be embrac'd.
Eva. [To Fenton afide.] I will dance and eat plums at your wedding.
Fal. When night-dogs run, all forts of deer are chac’d. Mrs. Page. Well, I will mufe no further. Mr. Fenton, Heav'n give you many, many merry days! Good husband, let us every one go home, And laugh this fport o'er by a country fire, Sir John and all.
Ford. Let it be fo; Sir John,
The End of the FIRST VOLUME