« AnteriorContinuar »
get, as Ann to her in whitughter by
but a posrand I had 4, and cried
Page. Why, this is your own folly. Did not I tell you how you should know my daughter by her garments ?
Slen. I went to her in white, and cried mum, and she cried budget, as Anne and I had appointed; and yet it was not Anne, but a post-master's boy.
Eva. Jeshu! Master Slender, cannot you see but marry boys ?
Page. O, I am vexed at heart: What shall I do? Mrs. Page. Good George, be not angry: I knew of your purpose; turned my daughter into green; and, indeed, she is now with the doctor at the deanery, and there married.
Enter Caius. Caius. Vere is mistress Page? By gar, I am cozened: I ha' married un garçon, a boy; un paisan, by gar, a boy; it is not Anne Page: by gar, I am cozened. Mrs. Page. Why, did you take her in green?
Caius. Ay, be gar, and 'tis a boy; be gar, I'll raise all Windsor.
[Exit Caius. Ford. This is strange! Who hath got the right Anne? Page. My heart misgives me: here comes master Fenton.
Enter FENTON and ANNE PAGE. How now, master Fenton ?
Anne. Pardon, good father! good my mother, pardon!
Page. Now, mistress ? how chance you went not with master Slender ?
Mrs. Page. Why went you not with master doctor, maid?
Fent. You do amaze her: Hear the truth of it.
Ford. Stand not amazed: here is no remedy:-
VOL. I. — 13 .
Fal. I am glad, though you have ta'en a special stand to strike at me, that your arrow hath glanced.
Page. Well, what remedy? Fenton, heaven give thee joy! What cannot be eschewed, must be embraced.
Fal. When night-dogs run, all sorts of deer are chased. Eva. I will dance and eat plums at your wedding.
Mrs. Page. Well, I will muse no further:- Master Fenton,
Let it be so:— Sir John,
Giocayen give ywell, I will mus Plums at your
ORSINO, Duke of Illyria.
NE, } Genilemen attending on the Duke.
OLIVIA, a rich Countess.
Lords, Priests, Sailors, Officers, Musicians, and other Attendants.
SCENE. A City in Illyria, and the Sea-coast near it.
WHAT YOU WILL.
Duke. If music be the food of love, play on;
Cur. Will you go hunt, my lord ?
What, Curio ?
The hart. Duke. Why, so I do, the noblest that I have: 0, when mine eyes did see Olivia first, Methought she purged the air of pestilence; That instant was I turned into a hart; And my desires, like fell and cruel hounds, E’er since pursue me. — How now? what news from her?
Enter VALENTINE. Val. So please my lord, I might not be admitted, But from her handmaid do return this answer:
ne eyes ced the aircoot hart ; nds,