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Eva. Shew me now, William, fome Declensions of your Pronouns.
Will. Forsooth, I have forgot.
Eva. It is Oni, que, quod; if you forget your Quies, your Ques, and your Quods, you must be preeches: Go your ways and play, go.
Mrs. Page. He is a better Scholar than I thought he was.
Mrs. Page. Adieu, good Sir Hugh.
S C E N E II.
Enter Falstaff and Mistress Ford.
Mrs. Fórd. He's a birding, sweet Sir John.
Enter Mistress Page.
Mrs. Ford. Why none but mine own People. Mrs. Page. Indeed? Mrs. Ford. No certainly.--Speak louder. Mrs. Page. Truly, I am so glad you have no body herë. Mrs. Ford. Why? Mrs. Page. Why Woman, your Husband is in his old Lines again; he so takes on yonder with my Husband, so rails against all married Mankind, so curses all Eve's Daughters, of what Complexion foever, and so buffets himself on the Fore-head, crying peer-out, peer-out, that any Madness I ever yet beheld seem'd but Tameness, Civility and Patience to this his Diftemper he is in now; I am glad the fat Knight is not here.
Mrs. Ford. Why does he talk of him?
Mrs. Page. Of none but him, and swears he was carry'd out, the last time he search'd for him, in a Basket; protests to my Husband he is now here, and hath drawn him and the rest of their Company from their Sport, to make another Experiment of his Suspicion, but I am glad the Knight is not here; now he shall see his own Foolery.
Mrs. Ford. How near is he, Mistress Page?
Mrs. Ford. I am undone, the Knight is here. . Mrs. Page. Why then you are utterly sham'd, and he's but a dead Man. What a Woman are you? Away with him, away with him, better Shame than Murther.
Mrs. Ford. Which way should he go? How should I bestow him ? Shall I put him into the Basket again?
Mrs. Page. Alas, three of Master Ford's Brothers watch the Door with Pistols, that none should issue out, otherwise you might slip away e'er he came: But what make you here?
Fal. What shall I do? I'll creep up into the Chimney. Mrs. Ford. There they always use to discharge their Birding-Pieces; creep into the Kill-Hole.
Fal. Where is it?
Mrs. Ford. He will seek there, on my Word: Neither Press, Coffer, Chest, Trunk, Well, Vault, but he hath an Abstract for the remembrance of such Places, and goes to them by his Note; there is no hiding you in the House.
Fal. I'll go out then.
Mrs. Ford. If you go out in your own Semblance, you die, Sir John, unless you go out disguis’d. How might we disguise him?
Mrs. Page. Alass-the-Day; I know not, there is no Woman's Gown big enough for him, otherwise he might put on a Hat, a Muffler, and a Kercheif, and so escape.
Fal. Good Hearts, devise fomething; any Extremity, rather than Mischief.
Mrs. Ford. My Maid's Aunt, the fat Woman of Brainford, has a Gown above.
Mrs. Page. On my Word it will serve him, she's as big as he is; and there's her thrumb Hat, and her Muffler too. Run"up. Sir John.
Mrs. Ford. Go, go, fweet Sir John, Mistress Page and I will look fome Linnen for
Head. Mrs. Page. Quick, quick, we'll come dress you straight; put on the Gown the while.
[Exit Falltaff. Mrs. Ford. I would my Husband would meet him in this Shape, he cannot abide the old Woman of Brainford; he twears she's a Witch, forbad her my House, and hath threatned to beat her.
Mrs. Page. Heav'n guide him to thy Husband's Cudgel, and the Devil guide his Cudge afterwards.
Mrs. Ford. But is my Husband coming?
Mrs. Page. Ay in good Sadness is he, and talks of the Basket too, howsoever he hath had Intelligence.
Mrs. Ford. We'll try that; for I'll appoint my Men to carry the Basket again, to meet him at the Door with it, as they did last time.
Mrs. Page. Nay, but he'll be here presently; let's go dress him like the Witch of Brainford.
Mrs. Ford. I'll first direct my Men, what they shall do with the Basket; go up, I'll bring Linnen for him straight.
Mrs. Page. Hang him, dishonest Yarlet,
yet honest too.
Mrs. Ford. Go Sirs, take the Basket again on your shoulders; your Master is hard at door; if he bid you set it down, obey him: Quickly, dispatch.
Enter Servants with the Basket.
Enter Ford, Shallow, Page, Caius and Evans.
Page. Whiy, this passes Mr. Ford; you are not to go loose nay longer, you must be pinnion'd.
Eva. Why, this is Lunaticks; this is mad as a mad Dog. Shal. Indeed, Mr. Ford, this is not well indeed.
Ford. So say I too, Sir. Come hither Mistress Ford, Mistress
you do, if you fufpea me in any Dishonesty.
Ford. Well said, Brazen-face, hold it out : Come forth, Sirrah.
[Pulls the Cloaths out of the Basket, Page. This paffes. Mrs. Ford. Are you not asham'd, let the Cloaths alone. Ford, I shall find
you anon. Eva. 'Tis unreasonable; will you take up your Wife's Cloaths? Come away.
Ford. Empty the Basket, I say.
Ford. Master Page, as I am a Man, there was one convey'd out of my Houfe Yesterday in this Basket; why may not he be there again? In my House I am sure he is ; my Intelligence is true, my Jealousie is reasonable, pluck me out all the Linnen.
Mrs. Ford. If you find a Man there, he shall die a Flea's death.
Page. Here's no Man.
Shal. By my Fidelity this is not not well, Mr. Ford; this wrongs you.
Eva. Mr. Ford, you must pray, and not follow the Ima ginations of your own Heart; this is Jealousies.
Ford. Well, he's not here I seek for.
Ford. Help to search my House this one time ; if I find not what I seek, shew no colour for my Extremity ; let me for ever be your Table-sport; let them say of me, As jealous as Ford, that searched a hollow Wall-nut for his Wives Lemman. Satisfie me once more, once more fearch
Mrs. Ford. What hoa, Mistress Page..come you and the old Woman down; my Husband will come into the Chamber.
Ford. Old Woman! What old Woman's that?
Ford. A Witch, a Quean, an old cozening Quean; have I not forbid her my House? She comes of Errands, does The? We are simple Mense we do not know what's brought to pass under the Profession of Fortune-telling. She works by Charms, by Spells, by th'Figure, and such dawbry as this is, beyond our Element; we know nothing. Come down, you Witch, you Hag you, come down, I say.
Mrs. Ford. Nay, good sweet Husband; good Gentlemen, let him not strike the old Woman.
Enter Falstaff in Womens Cloaths.
Ford. I'll Prat her. Out of my Door youWitch, [Beats him.] you Hag, you Baggage, you Poulcat, you Runnion, out, out; I'll Conjure you, I'll Fortune-tell you. [Exit Fal.
Mrs. Page. Are you not asham'd?
Mrs. Ford. Nay, he will do it; 'tis a goodly Credit for you.
Ford. Hang her, Witch.
Eva. By yea, and no, I think the o’man is a Witch in deed: I like not when a o’man has a great Peard; I spy a great Peard under his Muffler.
Ford. Will you follow, Gentlemen? I beseech you follow; fee but the issue of my Jealoufie; if I cry out thus upon no Trial, never trust me when I open again.
Page. Let's obey his Humour a little further :
[Exeunt. Mrs, Page. Trust me he beat him most pitifully.
Mrs. Ford. Nay, by th' Mass that he did not; he beat him most unpitifully, methought.
Mrs. Page. I'll have the Cudgel hallow'd, and hung o'er the Altar, it hath done meritorious Service.
Mrs. Ford. What think you? May we, with the warrant of Woman-hood, and the witness of a good Conscience, pur. fue him with any further Revenge?
Mrs. Page. The Spirit of Wantonness is sure scar'd out