Get you home boy, Come we stay too long.
O’man, art thou Lunatics? Hast thou no vnderstandings
for thy Cases, & the numbers of the Genders?
Thou art as foolish Christian creatures, as I would
Pre’thee hold thy peace.
Shew me now (William) some declensions of your
Forsooth, I haue forgot.
It is Qui, que, quod; if you forget your Quies,
your Ques, and your Quods, you must be preeches: Goe
your waies and play, go.
He is a better scholler then I thought he was.
He is a good sprag-memory: Farewel Mis[tris]. Page.
Adieu good Sir Hugh:
Enter Falstoffe, Mist.Ford, Mist.Page, Seruants, Ford,
Page, Caius, Euans, Shallow.
Mi[stris]. Ford, Your sorrow hath eaten vp my sufferance;.
I see you are obsequious in your loue, and I professe.
requitall to a haires bredth, not onely Mist[ris]. Ford, .
in the simple office of loue, but in all the accustrement, .
complement, and ceremony of it: But are you sure of.
your husband now?
Hee’s a birding (sweet Sir Iohn.).
What hoa, gossip Ford: what hoa.
Step into th’chamber, Sir Iohn.
How now (sweete heart) whose at home.
besides your selfe?.
Why none but mine owne people.
No certainly: Speake louder.
Truly, I am so glad you haue no body here.
Why woman, your husband is in his olde.
lines againe: he so takes on yonder with my husband, so.
railes against all married mankinde; so curses all Eues.
daughters, of what complexion soeuer; and so buffettes.
himselfe on the for-head: crying peere-out, peere-out, .
that any madnesse I euer yet beheld, seem’d but tamenesse, .
ciuility, and patience to this his distemper he is in.
now: I am glad the fat Knight is not heere.
Why, do’s he talke of him?
Of none but him, and sweares he was caried.
out the last time hee search’d for him, in a Basket:.
Protests to my husband he is now heere, & hath drawne.
him and the rest of their company from their sport, to.
make another experiment of his suspition: But I am glad.
the Knight is not heere; now he shall see his owne foolerie.
How neere is he Mistris Page?
Hard by, at street end; he wil be here anon.
I am vndone, the Knight is heere.
Why then you are vtterly sham’d, & hee’s but a dead man. What a woman are you? Away with him, away with him: Better shame, then murther.
Which way should he go? How should I bestow him? Shall I put him into the basket againe?.
No, Ile come no more i’th Basket:.
May I not go out ere he come?
Alas: three of Mr. Fords brothers watch the doore with Pistols, that none shall issue out: otherwise you might slip away ere hee came: But what make you heere?
What shall I do? Ile creepe vp into the chimney.
There they alwaies vse to discharge their Birding-peeces: creepe into the Kill-hole.
Where is it?
He will seeke there on my word: Neyther Presse, Coffer, Chest, Trunke, 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.
Ile go out then.
If you goe out in your owne semblance, you die Sir Iohn, vnlesse you go out disguis’d.
How might we disguise him?
Alas the day I know not, there is no womans gowne bigge enough for him: otherwise he might put on a hat, a muffler, and a kerchiefe, and so escape.
Good hearts, deuise something: any extremitie, rather then a mischiefe.
My Maids Aunt the fat woman of Brainford, has a gowne aboue.
On my word it will serue him: shee’s as big as he is: and there’s her thrum’d hat, and her muffler too: run vp Sir Iohn.
Go, go, sweet Sir Iohn: Mistris Page and I will looke some linnen for your head.
Quicke, quicke, wee’le come dresse you straight: put on the gowne the while.
I would my husband would meete him in this shape: he cannot abide the old woman of Brainford; he sweares she’s a witch, forbad her my house, and hath threatned to beate her.
Heauen guide him to thy husbands cudgell: and the diuell guide his cudgell afterwards.
But is my husband comming?
I in good sadnesse is he, and talkes of the basket too, howsœuer he hath had intelligence.
Wee’l try that: for Ile appoint my men to carry the basket againe, to meete him at the doore with it, as they did last time.
Nay, but hee’l be heere presently: let’s go dresse him like the witch of Brainford.
Ile first direct my men, what they shall doe with the basket: Goe vp, Ile bring linnen for him straight.
Hang him dishonest Varlet, .
We cannot misuse enough:.
We’ll leaue a proofe by that which we will doo,
Wiues may be merry, and yet honest too:
We do not acte that often, iest, and laugh,
’Tis old, but true, Still Swine eats all the draugh.
Go Sirs, take the basket againe on your shoulders: your Master is hard at doore: if hee bid you set it downe, obey him: quickly, dispatch.
Come, come, take it vp.
Pray heauen it be not full of Knight againe.
I hope not, I had liefe as beare so much lead.
I, but if it proue true (Mr. Page) haue you any way then to vnfoole me againe. Set downe the basket villaine: some body call my wife: Youth in a basket: Oh you Panderly Rascals, there’s a knot: a gin, a packe, a conspiracie against me: Now shall the diuel be sham’d. What wife I say: Come, come forth: behold what honest