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Page. How now, master Ford ?
Page. Yes; and you heard what the other told me? Ford. Do you think there is truth in them?
Page. Hang 'em, slaves ! I do not think the kuight would offer it: but these that accuse him in his intent towards our wives, are a yoke of his discarded men; very rogues, now they be out of service.
Ford. Were they his men?
Ford. I like it never the better for that.-Does he lie at the Garter?
Page. Ay, marry, does he. If he should intend this voyage towards my wife, I would turn hier loose to him; and what he gets more of her than sharp words, let it lie on my head.
Ford. I do not misdoubt my wife; but I would be loth to turn them together: A man may be too confident: I would have nothing lie on my head: I cannot be thus satisfied.
Page. Look, where my ranting host of the Garter comes: there is either liquor in his pate, or money in his purse, when he looks so merrily.-How now, mine host?
Enter Host and Shallow.
Host. How now, bully-rook? thou'rt a gentleman: cavalero-justice, I say.
Shal. I follow, mine host, I follow.Good even, and twenty, good master Page! Master Page, will you go with us? we have sport in hand.
Host. Tell him, cavalero-justice; tell him, bully, rook.
Shal. Sir, there is a fray to be fought, between sir Hugh the Welsh priest, and Caius the French doctor.
Ford. Good mine host o'the Garter, a word with you.
Host. What say'st thou, bully-rook?
[They go aside. Shal. Will you (to Page) go with us to behold it? niy merry host hath had the measuring of their weapons; and, I think, he hath appointed them contrary places : for, believe me, I hear, the parson is no jester. Hark, I will tell you what our sport shall be.
Host. Hast thou no suit against my knight, my guest-cavalier?
Ford. None, I protest: but I'll give you a pottle of burnt sack to give me recourse to him, and tell him, my name is Brook; only for a jest.
Host. My hand, bully: thou shalt have egress and regress; said I well? and thy name shall be Brook: It is a merry knight.-Will you go on, hearts? Shal. Have with
mine host. Page. I have heard, the Frenchman hath good skill in his rapier.
Shal. Tut, sir, I could have told you more: In these times you stand on distance, your passes, stoccadoes, and I know not what: 'tis the heart, master Page; 'tis here, 'tis here. I have seen the time, with my long sword, I would have made you four tallo fellows skip like rats.
Host. Here, boys, here, here! shall we wag?
Page. Have with you:- I had rather hear them scold than fight.
(Exeunt Host, Shallow, and Page. Ford. Though Page be a secure fool, and stands so firmly on his wife's frailty, yet I cannot put off my opinion so easily: She was in his company at Page's house; and, what they madet there, I know not. Well, I will look further into't: and I have a disguise to sound Falstaff: If I find her honest, I lose not my labour; if she be otherwise, 'tis labour well bestowed.
A Room in the Garter Inn.
Enter Falstaff and Pistol.
Fal. I will not lend thee a penny.
Pist. Why, then the world's mine oyster,
Fal. Not a penny. I have been content, sir, you should lay my countenance to pawn: I have grated upon my good friends for three reprieves for you and your coach-fellowt Nym; or else you had looked through the grate like a geminy of baboods. I am damned in hell, for swearing to gentlemen my friends, you were good soldiers, and tall fellows: and when mistress Bridget lost the handle of her fan, I took't upon my honour, thou badst it not. Pist. Didst thou not share? hadst thou not fifteen
pence? Fal. Reason, you rogue, reason : Think'st thou, I'll endanger my soul gratis ? At a word, hang no more about me, I am no gibbet for you go.--A short knife and a throngi:-to your manor of Pickthatchý, go. You'll not bear a letter for me, you rogue !-you stand upon your honour!-Why, thou unconfinable baseness, it is as much as I can do, to keep the terms of my honour precise. I, I, I myself sometimes, leaving the fear of heaven on the left hand, and hiding mine honour in my necessity, am fain to shuffle, to hedge, and to lurch; and yet you, rogue, will ensconcell your rags, your cat-a-mountain
* Pay you again in stolen goods.
Pickt-hatch was in Clerkenwell.
looks, your red-lattice phrases, and your bold-beat. ing oaths, under the shelter of your honour! You will not do it, you? Pist. I do relent; What would'st thou more of
Rob. Sir, here's a woman would speak with you. Fal. Let her approach.
Enter Mistress Quickly.
Quick. Give your worship good-morrow.
Quick. I'll be sworn; as my mother was, the first hour I was born.
Fal. I do believe the swearer: What with me? Quick. Shall I vouchsafe your worship a word or two?
Fal. Two thousand, fair woman; and I'll vouchsafe thee the hearing.
Quick. There is one mistress Ford, sir ;-I pray, come a little nearer this ways :- I myself dwell with master doctor Caius.
Fal. Well, on: Mistress Ford, you say,
Quick. Your worship says very true: I pray your worship, come a little nearer this ways.
Fal. I warrant thee, nobody hears;-mine own people, mine own people.
Quick. Are they so? Heaven bless them, and make them his servants !
Fal. Well: mistress Ford;-what of her?
Quick. Why, sir, she's a good creature. Lord, lord! your worship's a wanton : Well, heaven forgive you, and all of us, I pray!
Fal. Mistress Ford-come, mistress Ford.
Quick. Marry, this is the short and the long of it; you have brought her into such a canaries, as 'tis wonderful. The best courtier of thern all, when the court lay at Windsor, could never have brought her to such a canary. Yet there has been knights, and lords, and gentlemen, with their coaches; I warrant you, coach after coach, letter after letter, gift after gift; smelling so sweetly (all musk), and so rushling, I warrant you, in silk and gold; and in such alligaut terms; and in such wine and sugar of the best, and the fairest, that would have won any woman's heart; and, I warrant you, they could never get an eye-wink of her.-I had myself twenty angels given me this morning: but I defy all angels (in any such sort, as they say), but in the way of hopesty :-and, I warrant you, they could never get her so much as sip on a cup with the proudest of them all: and yet there has been earls, nay, which is more, pensioners; but, I warrant you, all is one with her.
Fal. But what says she to me? be brief, my good she Mercury.
Quick, Marry, she hatlı received your letter; for the which she thanks you a thousand times; and she gives you to notify, that her busband will be absence from his house between ten and eleven.
Fal. Ten and eleven?
Quick. Ay, forsooth; and then you may come and see the picture, she says, that you wout of;master Ford, her husband, will be from home. Alas! the sweet woman leads an ill life with him; he's a very jealousy man; she leads a very frampoldt life with him, good heart.
Fal. Ten and eleven? Woman, commend me to her; I will not fail her.
Quick. Why, you say well? But I have another
* A mistake of Mrs. Quickly's for quandary. + Know. | Fretful, peevish.