Then did the Sun on dung-hill shine.
I thanke thee for that humour.
O she did so course o're my exteriors with such
a greedy intention, that the appetite of her eye, did seeme to scorch me vp like a burning-glasse: here's another letter to her: She beares the Purse too: She is a Region in Guiana: all gold, and bountie: I will be Cheaters to them both, and they shall be Exchequers to mee: they shall be my East and West Indies, and I will trade to them both: Goe, beare thou this Letter to Mistris Page; and thou this to Mistris Ford: we will thriue (Lads) we will thriue.
Shall I Sir Pandarus of Troy become,
And by my side weare Steele? then Lucifer take all.
I will run no base humor: here take the humor-Letter;
I will keepe the hauior of reputation.
Hold Sirha, beare you these Letters tightly,
Saile like my Pinnasse to these golden shores.
Rogues, hence, auaunt, vanish like haile-stones; goe,
Trudge; plod away ith' hoofe: seeke shelter, packe:
Falstaffe will learne the honor of the age,
French-thrift, you Rogues, my selfe, and skirted Page.
Let Vultures gripe thy guts: for gourd, and
Fullam holds: & high and low beguiles the rich & poore,
Tester ile haue in pouch when thou shalt lacke,
Base Phrygian Turke.
I haue opperations,
Which be humors of reuenge.
Wilt thou reuenge?
By Welkin, and her Star.
With wit, or Steele?
With both the humors, I:
I will discusse the humour of this Loue to Ford.
And I to Page shall eke vnfold
How Falstaffe (varlet vile)
His Doue will proue; his gold will hold,
And his soft couch defile.
My humour shall not coole: I will incense Ford
to deale with poyson: I will possesse him with yallownesse, for the reuolt of mine is dangerous: that is my true humour.
Enter Mistris Quickly, Simple, Iohn Rugby, Doctor, Caius, Fenton.
What, Iohn Rugby, I pray thee goe to the Casement,
and see if you can see my Master, Master Docter
Caius comming: if he doe (I' faith) and finde any body
in the house; here will be an old abusing of Gods patience,
and the Kings English.
Ile goe watch.
Goe, and we'll haue a posset for't soone at night,
(in faith) at the latter end of a Sea-cole-fire: An honest,
willing, kinde fellow, as euer seruant shall come in house
withall: and I warrant you, no tel-tale, nor no breedebate:
his worst fault is, that he is giuen to prayer; hee is
something peeuish that way: but no body but has his
fault: but let that passe. Peter Simple, you say your
I: for fault of a better.
And Master Slender's your Master?
Do's he not weare a great round Beard, like a
No forsooth: he hath but a little wee-face; with
a little yellow Beard: a Caine colourd Beard.
A softly-sprighted man, is he not?
I forsooth: but he is as tall a man of his hands, as
any is betweene this and his head: he hath fought with
How say you: oh, I should remember him: do's
he not hold vp his head (as it were?) and strut in his gate?
Yes indeede do's he.
Well, heauen send Anne Page, no worse fortune:
Tell Master Parson Euans, I will doe what I can for your
Master: Anne is a good girle, and I wish.
Out alas: here comes my Master.
We shall all be shent: Run in here, good young
man: goe into this Closset: he will not stay long: what
Iohn Rugby? Iohn: what Iohn I say? goe Iohn, goe enquire
for my Master, I doubt he be not well, that hee
comes not home: (and downe, downe, adowne'a. &c.
Ca. Vat is you sing? I doe not like des-toyes: pray
you goe and vetch me in my Closset, vnboyteere verd;
a Box, a greene-a-Box: do intend vat I speake? a greene-a-Box.
I forsooth ile fetch it you:
I am glad hee went not in himselfe: if he had found the
yong man he would haue bin horne-mad.
Fe, fe, fe, fe, mai foy, il fait for ehando, Ie man voi a le
Court la grand affaires.
Is it this Sir?
Ouy mette le au mon pocket, depeech quickly:
Vere is dat knaue Rugby?
What Iohn Rugby, Iohn?
You are Iohn Rugby, and you are Iacke Rugby:
Come, take-a-your Rapier, and come after my heele to
'Tis ready Sir, here in the Porch.
By my trot: I tarry too long: od's-me: que ay ie
oublie: dere is some Simples in my Closset, dat I vill not
for the varld I shall leaue behinde.
Ay-me, he'll finde the yong man there, & be mad.
O Diable, Diable: vat is in my Closset?
Villanie, Laroone: Rugby, my Rapier.
Good Master be content.
Wherefore shall I be content-a?
The yong man is an honest man.
What shall de honest man do in my Closset: dere
is no honest man dat shall come in my Closset.
I beseech you be not so flegmaticke: heare the
truth of it. He came of an errand to mee, from Parson
I forsooth: to desire her to—
Peace, I pray you.
Peace-a-your tongue: speake-a-your Tale.
To desire this honest Gentlewoman (your Maid)
to speake a good word to Mistris Anne Page, for my Master
in the way of Marriage.
This is all indeede-la: but ile nere put my finger
in the fire, and neede not.
Sir Hugh send-a you? Rugby, ballow mee some
paper: tarry you a littell-a-while.