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And a thousand vagram posies,
Eva. He's welcome :-
Sim. No weapons, sir : There comes my master, master Shallow, and another gentleman from Frogmore, over the stile, this way.
Eva. Pray you, give me my gown ; or else keep it in your arms.
Enter PAGE, SHALLOW, and SLENDER. Shal. How now, master parson ? Good-morrow, good sir Hugh. Keep a gamester from the dice, and a good student from his book, and it is wonderful.
Slen. Ah, sweet Anne Page !
Shal. What! the sword and the word ! Do you study them both, master parson ?
Page. And youthful still, in your doublet and hose, this raw rheumatic day?
Eva. There is reasons and causes for it.
Page. We are come to you, to do a good office, master
Page. Yonder is a most reverend gentleman, who belike, having received wrong by some person, is at most odds with his own gravity and patience, that ever you saw.
Shal. I have lived fourscore years, and upward ; I never heard a man of his place, gravity, and learning, so wide of his own respect.
Eva. What is he?
Page. I think you know him ; master doctor Caius, the renowned French physician.
Eva. Got’s will, and his passion of my heart ! I had as lief you would tell me of a mess of porridge.
Eva. He has no more knowledge in Hibocrates and Galen,—and he is a knave besides; a cowardly knave, as you would desires to be acquainted withal,
Page. I warrant you, he's the man should fight with him.
Slen. O, sweet Anne Page!
Shal. It appears so by his weapons :-Keep them asunder ;-here comes doctor Caius.
Enter Host, CAIUS, and RUGBY. Page. Nay, good master parson, keep in your weapon. Shal. So do you, good master doctor.
Host. Disarm them, and let them question ; let them keep their limbs whole, and hack our English.
Caius. pray you, let-a me speak a word vit your ear: Verefore vill you not meet a-me?
Eva. Pray you, use your patience: In good time.
Caius. By gar, you are de coward, de Jack dog, John ape.
Eva. 'Pray you, let us not be laughing-stogs to other men's humours; I desire you in friendship, and I will one way or other make you amends :- I will knog your urinals about your knave's cogscomb, for missing your meetings and appointments.
Caius. Diable ! -Jack Rugby,-mine Host de Jarterre, have I not stay for him, to kill him ? have I not, at de place I did appoint ?
Evā. As I am a christian soul, now, look you, this is the place appointed ; I'll be judgment by mine host of the Garter.
Host. Peace, I say, Guallia and Gaul, French and Welch; soul-curer and body-curer.
Caius. Ay, dat is very good ! excellent.
Host. Peace, I say; hear mine host of the Garter.Am I politic ? am I subtle ? am I a Machiavel ? Shall I lose my doctor? no ; he gives me the potions, and the motions. Shall I lose my parson? my priest? my sir Hugh? no; he gives me the pro-verbs and the noverbs. - Give me thy hand, terrestrial ; so :-Give me thy hand, celestial; so.--Boys of art, I have deceived you both ; I have directed you to wrong places : your hearts are mighty, your skins are whole, and let burnt sack be the issue.-Come, lay their swords to pawn :Follow me, lad of peace : follow, follow, follow.
Shal. Trust me, a mad host:--Follow, gentlemen, follow. Slen. O, sweet Anne Page !
[Exeunt ShAL. SLEN. PAGE, and Host. Caius. Ha ! do I perceive dat ? have you make-a de sot of us ? ha, ha!
Eva. This is well ; he has made us his vlouting-stog. I desire you, that we may be friends; and let us knog our prains together, to be revenge on this same scall, scurvy, cogging companion, the host of the Garter.
Caius. By gar, vit all my heart : he promise to bring me vere is Anne Page : by gar, he deceive me too.
Eva. Well, I will smite his noddles :-Pray you, follow.
SCENE II. The Street in Windsor. Enter Mrs. PAGE and ROBIN.
Mrs. Page. Nay, keep your way, little gallant ; you were wont to be a follower, but now you are a leader Whether had you rather, lead mine eyes, or eye your master's heels?
Rob. I had rather, forsooth, go before you like a man, than follow him like a dwarf. Mrs. Page. O you are a flattering boy; now, I
see, you'll be a courtier.
Ford. Ay; and as idle as she may hang together, for want of company : I think, if your husbands were dead, you two would marry.
Mrs. Page. Be sure of that, -T'wo other husbands.
Mrs. Page. I cannot tell what the dickens his name is my husband had him of: What do you call your knight's name, sirrah ?
Rob. Sir John Falstaff.
your wife at home, indeed ? Ford. Indeed, she is.
Mrs. Page. By your leave, sir ;-I am sick, till I see her.
[Exeunt Mrs. PAGE and Robin. Ford. Has Page any brains ? hath he any eyes ? hath he any thinking? Sure, they sleep; he hath no use of them. Why, this boy will carry a letter twenty miles, as easy as a cannon will shoot point-black twelve score. He pieces-out his wife's inclination ; he gives her folly