Imagens das páginas
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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 house? She comes of er, rands, does she? We are simple men; we do not know what's brought to pass under the profession of fortune-telling. She works by charms, by spells, by the figure, and such daubery as this is; beyond our element: we know nothing $6. Come down, you witch, you hag you ; come down, I say.

Mrs. Ford. Nay, good, sweet husband;-good gentlemen, let him not strike the old woman. Enter FALSTAFF in women's clothes, led by Mrs. Page, · Mrs, Page. Come, mother Pratt, come, give me

your hand.

: Ford. I'll prat her: Out of my door, you witch ! [beats him.] you rag, you baggage, you pole-. cat, you ronyon ! out! out! I'll conjure you, I'll fortune-tell you.

[Exit Falstaff. Mrs. Page. Are you not ashamed ? 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 th the 'oman is a witch indeed: I like not when a 'oman has a great peard ; I spy a great peard under her muffler.

Ford. Will you follow, gentlemen? I beseech you, follow; see but the issue of my jealousy: if I cry out

thus upon no trail R7, never trust me when I open again.

Page. Let's obey his humour a little further: Come, gentlemen. [Exeunt Page, Ford, Shallow, and Evans.

Mrs. Page. Trust me, he beat him most pitifully.

Mrs. Ford. Nay, by the mass, 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 service.

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

Mrs. Page. The spirit of wantonness is, sure, scared out of him; if the devil have him not in fee-simple, with fine and recovery, he will never, I think, in the way of waste 88, attempt us again.

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

Mrs. Page. Yes, by all means ; if it be but to scrape 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 still be the ministers.

Mrs. Ford. I'll warrant, they'll have him publickly shamed : and, methinks, there would be no .period to the jest, should he not be publickly shamed.

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



A Room in the Garter Inn,

Enter Host and BARDOLPH. Bard. Sir, the Germans desire to have three of your horses : the duke himself will be to-morrow at court, and they are going to meet him.

Host. What duke should that be, comes so secretly? I hear not of him in the court : Let me speak with the gentlemen; they speak English ?

Bard, Ay, sir ; I'll call them to you.

Host. They shall have my horses; but I'll make them pay, I'll sauce them : they have had


houses a week at command; I have turn'd away my other guests : they must come off; I'll sauce them : Come,


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A Room in Ford's House.

Enter PAGE, FORD, Mrs. PAGE, Mrs. FORD, and

Sir Hugh EVANS. Eva. 'Tis one of the pest discretions of a 'oman as ever I did look upon.

Page. And did he send you both these letters at an instant ?

Mrs. Page. Within a quarter of an hour.
Ford. Pardon me, wife: Henceforth do what thou


I rather will suspect the sun with cold,
Than thee with wantonness : now doth thy honour

In him that was of late an heretick,
As firm as faith.

'Tis well, 'tis well; no more.
Be not as extreme in submission,
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 disgrace him for it.
Ford. There is no better way than that they spoke

of. Page. How! to send him word they'll meet him in the park at midnight ? fie, fie; he'll never come.

Eva. You say, he has been thrown in the rivers ; and has been grievously peaten, as an old 'oman : methinks, there should be terrors in him, that he should not come; methinks, his flesh is punishd, he shall have no desires.

Page. So think I too.
Mrs. Ford. Devise but how you'll use him when

he comes, And let us two devise to bring him thither. Mrs. Page. There is an old tale goes, that Herne

the hunter, Sometime a keeper here in Windsor forest, Doth all the winter time, at still midnight, Walk round about an oak, with great ragg'd horns;

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