Imagens das páginas
PDF
ePub

Mrs. Ford. If you find a man there, he fhall die a flea's death.

Page. Here's no man.

Shal. By my fidelity, this is not well, master Ford;

this wrongs you.

Eva. Master Ford, you must pray, and not follow the imaginations of your own heart: this is jealousies.

Ford. Well, he's not here I seek for.

Page. No, nor no where elfe but in your brain.

Ford. Help to fearch my house this one time: if I find not what I feek, fhew no colour for my extremity, let me for ever be your table-sport; let them fay of me, As jealous as Ford, that fearch'd a hollow wall-nut for his wife's 'leman. Satisfy me once more, once more fearch with me.

Mrs. Ford. What hoa, miftrefs Page! come you, and the old woman down; my husband will come into the chamber.

Ford. Old woman! what old woman's that?

Mrs. Ford. Why, it is my maid's aunt of Brentford. Ford. A witch, a quean, an old cozening quean! Have I not forbid her my houfe? She comes of errands, does fhe? We are fimple men; we do not know what's brought to pass under the profeffion of fortune-telling. She works by charms, by spells, by the figure, and fuch daubery; as this is beyond our element, we know nothing.-Come down, you witch; you hag you, come down, I say. Mrs. Ford. Nay, good, fweet husband ;-good gentlemen, let him not strike the old woman.

b

this wrongs you.]—reflects both upon your honour, and your ftanding.

2 extremity,]-extravagance.

aleman.]-lover, gallant.
juch daubery ;]-artifices, impofitions.

under

Enter

Enter Falstaff in women's cloaths, led by Mrs. Page.

Mrs. Page. Come, mother Prat, come, give me your

hand.

с

Ford. I'll prat her:-Out of my doors, you witch! [Beats him.] you hag, you baggage, you poulcat, you ronyon! out! out! I'll conjure you, I'll fortune-tell you. [Exit Fal.

Mrs. Page. Are you not asham'd? I think, you have kill'd the poor woman.

Mrs. Ford. Nay, he will do it:-'Tis a goodly credit for you.

Ford. Hang her, witch!

Eva. By yea and no, I think, the 'oman is a witch indeed I like not when a 'omans has a great peard; I fpy a great peard under his muffler.

Ford. Will you follow, gentlemen? I befeech you, follow; fee but the iffue of my jealoufy: if I cry out thus upon no trail, never truft me when I open again.

Page. Let's obey his humour a little further: Come, gentlemen.

[Exeunt. Mrs. Page. Trust me, he beat him moft pitifully. Mrs. Ford. Nay, by the mafs, that he did not; he beat him most unpitifully, methought.

Mrs. Page. I'll have the cudgel hallow'd, and hung o'er the altar; it hath done meritorious fervice.

Mrs. Ford. What think you? may we, with the warrant of woman-hood, and the witness of a good confcience, pursue him with any further revenge?

Mrs. Page. The fpirit of wantonnefs is, fure, scar'd

ronyon!]-fcurvy wretch.

"Aroint thee, witch! the rump-fed ronyon cries." MACBETH, A& I, S. 3. I Witch.

d no trail,]-no fcent.

out

out of him; if the devil have him not in fee-fimple, with fine and recovery, he will never, I think, in the way of wafte, attempt us again.

Mrs. Ford, Shall we tell our husbands how we have ferved him?

Mrs. Page. Yea, by all means; if it be but to fcrape the figures out of your husband's brains. If they can find in their hearts, the poor unvirtuous fat knight shall be any further afflicted, we two will be ftill the minifters.

Mrs. Ford. I'll warrant, they'll have him publickly fham'd: and, methinks, there would be no period to the jeft, fhould he not be publickly fham'd.

Mrs. Page. Come, to the forge with it then, fhape it: I would not have things cool.

SCENE III.

The Garter Inn.

Enter Hoft and Bardolph.

[Exeunt.

Bard. Sir, the Germans defire to have three of your horfes the duke himfelf will be to-morrow at court, and they are going to meet him.

Hoft. What duke fhould that be, comes fo fecretly? I hear not of him in the court: let me fpeak with the gentlemen; they speak English?

Bard. Sir, I'll call them to you.

Hoft. They fhall have my horses; but I'll make them pay, I'll fauce them: they have had my houfes a week at command; I have turn'd away my other guefts: they muft come off; I'll fauce them; come. [Exeunt.

in fee-fimple, with fine and recovery,]-the abfolute poffeffion of him. f in the way of wafte, attempt us again.]-of ruin, corruption, debauchery, renew his infamous attempts.

no period]-proper catastrophe.

h they must come off ;]-pay roundly; must not-without paying fo. VOL. I.

R

SCENE

[blocks in formation]

Enter Page, Ford, Mrs. Page, Mrs. Ford, and Sir Hugh Evans.

Eva. 'Tis one of the best discretions of a 'omans as ever I did look upon.

Page. And did he fend you both these letters at an inftant?

Mrs. Page. Within a quarter of an hour.

Ford. Pardon me, wife: Henceforth do what thou wilt; I rather will fufpect the fun with cold,

Than thee with wantonnefs: now doth thy honour stand, In him that was of late an heretick,

As firm as faith.

Page. 'Tis well, 'tis well; no more. Be not as extreme in fubmiffion,

As in offence;

But let our plot go forward: let our wives
Yet once again, to make us publick sport,
Appoint a meeting with this old fat fellow,
Where we may take him, and difgrace him for it.

Ford. There is no better way than that they spoke of. Page. How! fend him word they'll meet him in the park At midnight! fie, fie; he will never come.

Eva. You fay, he hath been thrown into the rivers; and hath been grievously peaten, as an old 'oman: methinks, there fhould be terrors in him, that he should not come; methinks, his flesh is punish'd, he shall have no defires.

Page. So think I too.

i of.

Mrs.

Mrs. Ford. Devife but how you'll ufe him when he comes, And let us two devife to bring him hither.

Mrs. Page. There is an old tale goes, that Herne the hunter,

Sometime a keeper here in Windfor forest,

Doth all the winter time, at ftill midnight,

k

Walk round about an oak, with great ragg'd horns;
And there he blafts the tree, and takes the cattle;
And makes milch-kine yield blood, and shakes a chain
In a most hideous and dreadful manner:

You have heard of fuch a fpirit; and well you know,
The fuperftitious idle-headed "eld

Receiv'd, and did deliver to our age,

This tale of Herne the hunter for a truth.

Page. Why, yet there want not many, that do fear
In deep of night to walk by this Herne's oak:
But what of this?

Mrs. Ford. Marry, this is our device; ———
That Falstaff at that oak fhall meet with us,
Difguis'd like Herne, with huge horns on his head.

Page. Well, let it not be doubted but he'll come, And in this fhape; When you have brought him thither, What fhall be done with him? what is your plot?

Mrs. Page. That likewife we have thought upon, and

[blocks in formation]
« AnteriorContinuar »