Mrs. Page. Peace. Eva. What is your genitive case plural, William ? Eva. Ay. Wil. Genitive, horum, harum, horum. Quic. 'Vengeance of Giney's cafe; fie on her! never name her, child, if she be a whore. Eva. For fhame, 'oman. Quie. You do ill to teach the child fuch words: he teaches him to hick and to hack, which they'll do faft enough of themselves; and to call horum; fic upon you! Eva. 'Oman, 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 defire. Mrs. Page. Pry'thee, hold thy peace. Eva. Shew me now, William, fome declenfions of your pronouns. Wil. Forfooth, I have forgot. Eva. It is qui, quæ, 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 fcholar, than I thought he was. Eva. He is a good sprag memory. Farewel, Mrs. Page. Mrs. Page. Adieu, good Sir Hugh. Get you home, boy. Come, we ftay too long. [Exeunt. Fal. M' Changes to Ford's House. Enter Falftaff and Mrs. Ford. ISTRESS Ford, your forrow hath eaten up my fufferance; I fee, you are obfequious in your love, and I profess requital to a hair's breadth; breadth; not only, miftrefs Ford, in the fimple office of love, but in all the accouftrement, compliment, and ceremony of it. But are you fure of your husband now? Mrs. Ford. He's a birding, sweet Sir John. Mrs. Page. [within.] What hoa, goffip Ford! what hoa! Mrs. Ford. Step into the chamber, Sir John. Enter Mrs. Page. [Exit Falftaff. Mrs. Page. How now, fweat heart, who's at home befides yourself? Mrs. Ford. Why, none but mine own people. Mrs. Page. Indeed? Mrs. Ford. No, certainly Mrs. Page. Truly, I am so here. Mrs. Ford. Why? Mrs. Page. Why, woman, your husband is in his old lunes again; he fo takes on yonder with my husband, fo rails against all married mankind, so curfes all Eve's daughters, of what complexion foever, and fo buffets himself on the forehead, crying, peerout, peer-out! that any madness I ever yet beheld feem'd but tameness, civility, and patience, to this 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 fwears, he was carry'd out, the last time he search'd for him, in a basket; protefts to my husband, he is now here; and hath drawn him and the reft of their company from their sport, to make another experiment of his sufpicion; but I am glad, the knight is not here; now he fhall fee his own foolery. Mrs. Ford. How near is he, mistress Page? Mrs. Page. Hard by, at ftreet's end, he will be here anon. Mrs. Mrs. Ford. I am undone, the knight is here. Mrs. Page. Why, then thou art utterly sham'd, and he's but a dead man. What a woman are you ? away with him, away with him; better fhame than murther. Mrs. Ford. Which way fhall he go? how fhould I bestow him? fhall I put him in the bafket again? SCENE III. Enter Falftaff. Fal. No, I'll come no more 'th' basket: may I not go out, ere he come? Mrs. Page. Alas! alas! three of mafter Ford's brothers watch the door with piftols, that none should iffue out, otherwise you might flip away ere he came: but what make you here? Fal. What shall I do? I'll creep up into the chimney. Mrs. Ford. There they always ufe to discharge their birding-pieces; creep into the kill-hole. Fal. Where is it? Mrs. Ford. He will feek there, on my word: neither prefs, coffer, cheft, 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 femblance, you die, Sir John, unless you go out disguis'd. How might we disguise him? Mrs. Page. Alas-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 kerchief, and fo escape. Fal. Good heart, devife fomething; any extremity, rather than mischief. Mrs. Mrs. Ford. My maid's aunt, the fat woman of Brainford, has a gown above. Mrs. Page. On my word, it will ferve him; fhe's as big as he is, and there's her thrum hat, and her muffler too. Run up, Sir John. Mrs. Ford. Go, go, fweet Sir John; miftrefs Page and I will look fome linen for your head. Mrs. Page. Quick, quick, we'll come drefs you ftraight; put on the gown the while. [Exit Falftaff. Mrs. Ford. I would my husband would meet him in this fhape; he cannot abide the old woman of Brainford; he fwears, fhe'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 cudgel afterwards! Mrs. Ford. But is my husband coming? Mrs. Page. Ay, in good fadness, is he; and talks of the basket too, however 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 laft time. Mrs. Page. Nay, but he'll be here presently; let's ga dress him like the witch of Brainford. Mrs. Ford. I'll first direct my men, what they fhall do with the basket; go up, I'll bring linen for him ftraight. Mrs. Page. Hang him, dishonest varlet, we cannot mifufe him enough. We'll leave a proof, by that which we will do. Wives may be merry, and yet honeft too. We do not act, that often jest and laugh: 'Tis old but true, Still fwine eats all the draugh. Mrs. Ford. Go, Sirs, take the basket again on your fhoulders; your mafter is hard at door; if he bid you fet it down, obey him: quickly, difpatch. [Exeunt Mrs. Page and Mrs. Ford. Enter Enter Servants with the basket. 1 Ser. Come, come, take up. 2 Ser. Pray heav'n it be not full of the knight again. 1 Ser. I hope not. I had as lief bear fo much lead. SCENE IV. Enter Ford, Shallow, Page, Caius and Evans. Ford. AY, but if it prove true, matter Page, have you any way then to unfool me again? fet down the basket, villain; fomebody call my wife: youth in a basket! oh, you panderly rafcals! there's a knot, a gang, a pack, a confpiracy, against me: now fhall the devil be fham'd. What! wife, I fay; come, come forth, behold what honeft clothes you fend forth to bleaching. Page. Why, this paffes, mafter Ford, you are not to go loose any longer, you must be pinnion'd. Eva. Why, this is lunatics; this is mad as a mad dog. Enter Mrs. Ford. Shal. Indeed, mafter Ford, this is not well, indeed. Ford. So fay I too, Sir. Come hither, miftress Ford; miftrefs Ford, the honeft woman, the modest wife, the virtuous creature, that hath the jealous fool to her husband! I fufpect without cause, mistress, do I? Mrs. Ford. Heav'n be my witness, you do, if you fufpect me in any dishonesty. Ford. Well faid, brazen-face; hold it out: come forth, Sirrah. [Pulls the clothes out of the basket. Page. This paffes Mrs. Ford. Are you not asham'd? let the clothes alone. Ford. |