praised women's modesty: and gave such orderly and well-behaved reproof to all uncomeliness, that I would have sworn his disposition would have gone to the truth of his words: but they do no more adhere and keep place together than the hundredth psalm to the tune of Green sleeves. What tempest, I trow, threw this whale, with so many tuns of oil in his belly, ashore at Windsor? How shall I be revenged on him? I think, the best way were to entertain him with hope, till the wicked fire of lust have melted him in his own grease.-Did you ever hear the like?

Mrs Page. Letter for letter; but that the name of Page and Ford differs!-To thy great comfort in this mystery of ill opinions, here's the twin-brother of thy letter: but let thine inherit first; for, I protest, mine never shall. I warrant, he hath a thousand of these letters, writ with blank space for different names, (sure more,) and these are of the second edition: He will print them, out of doubt; for he cares not what he puts into the press, when he would put us two. I had rather be a giantess, and lie under mount Pelion. Well, I will find you twenty lascivious turtles, ere one chaste

man.

Mrs Ford. Why, this is the very same; the very hand, the very words: What doth he think of us?

Mrs Page. Nay, I know not: it makes me almost ready to wrangle with mine own honesty. I'll entertain myself like one that I am not acquainted withal; for, sure, unless he know some strain in me, that I know not myself, he would never have boarded me in this fury.

Mrs Ford. Boarding, call you it? I'll be sure to keep him above deck.

Mrs Page. So will I; if he come under my hatches, I'll never to sea again. Let's be revenged on him: let's appoint him a meeting; give him a show of comfort in his suit; and lead him on with a fine-baited delay, till he hath pawn'd his horses to mine Host of the Garter.

Mrs Ford. Nay, I will consent to act any villainy against him, that may not sully the chariness of our honesty. O, that my husband saw this letter! it would give eternal food to his jealousy.

Mrs Page. Why, look, where he comes; and my good man too: he's as far from jealousy, as I am from giving him cause; and that, I hope, is an unmeasurable distance.

Mrs Ford. You are the happier woman.

Mrs Page. Let's consult together against this greasy knight: Come hither.

[They retire.

Enter FORD, PISTOL, PAGE, and NYм.

Ford. Well, I hope, it be not so.

Pist. Hope is a curtail dog in some affairs:

Sir John affects thy wife.

Ford. Why, sir, my wife is not young.

Pist. He wooes both high and low, both rich and

poor,

Both young and old, one with another, Ford;

He loves thy galley-mawfry; Ford, perpend.
Ford. Love my wife?

Pist. With liver burning hot: Prevent, or go thou,

Like sir Actæon he, with Ring-wood at thy heels :

O, odious is the name!

Ford. What name, sir?

Pist. The horn, I say: Farewel.

Take heed; have open eye; for thieves do foot by

night:

Take heed, ere summer comes, or cuckoo birds do

sing.

Away, sir corporal Nym.—

Believe it, Page; he speaks sense.

[Exit PISTOL. Ford. I will be patient; I will find out this.

Nym. And this is true; [To PAGE.] I like not the humour of lying. He hath wronged me in some humours: I should have borne the humoured letter to her; but I have a sword, and it shall bite upon my necessity. He loves your wife; there's the short and the long. My name is corporal Nym; I speak, and I avouch. Tis true :-my name is Nym, and Falstaff loves your wife.-Adieu! I love not the humour of bread and cheese; and there's the humour of it. Adieu. [Exit NYM.

Page. The humour of it, quoth a'! here's a fellow frights humour out of his wits.

Ford. I will seek out Falstaff.

Page. I never heard such a drawling, affecting

rogue.

Ford. If I do find it, well.

Page. I will not believe such a Cataian, though the priest o'the town commended him for a true man. Ford. 'Twas a good sensible fellow: Well. Page. How now, Meg?

Mrs Page. Whither go you, George?—Hark you.

Mrs Ford. How now, sweet Frank? why art thou melancholy?

Ford. I melancholy! I am not melancholy.-Get you home, go.

Mrs Ford. 'Faith, thou hast some crotchets in thy head now. Will you go, mistress Page?

Mrs Page. Have with you.-You'll come to dinner, George? Look, who comes yonder she shall be our messenger to this paltry knight.

[Aside to Mrs FORD.

Enter Mistress QUICKLY.

Mrs Ford. Trust me, I thought on her she'll fit it. Mrs Page. You are come to see my daughter Anne ? Quick. Ay, forsooth; And, I pray, how does good mistress Anne?

Mrs Page. Go in with us, and see; we have an hour's talk with you.

[Exeunt Mrs PAGE, Mrs FORD, and Mrs QUICKLY. Page. How now, master Ford?

Ford. You heard what this knave told me; did you not?

Page. Yes; And you heard what the other told me? Ford. Do you think there is truth in them?

Page. Hang 'em, slaves; I do not think the knight would offer it: but these, that accuse him in his intent towards our wives, are a yoke of his discarded men; very rogues, now they be out of his service.

Ford. Were they his men?

Page. Marry, were they.

Ford. I like it never the better for that.-Does he lie at the Garter?

Page. Ay, marry, does he. If he should intend this voyage towards my wife, I should turn her loose to him; and what he gets more of her than sharp words, let it lie on my head.

Ford. I do not misdoubt my wife; but I would be loath to turn them together: A man may be too confident: I would have nothing lie on my head: I cannot be thus satisfied.

Page. Look, where my ranting host of the Garter comes there is either liquor in his pate, or money in his purse, when he looks so merrily.-How now, mine host?

Enter Host, and SHALLOW.

Host. How now, bully-rook? thou'rt a gentleman: cavalero-justice, I say.

Shal. I follow, mine host, I follow.-Good even, and twenty, good master Page! Master Page, will you go with us? we have sport in hand.

Host. Tell him, cavalero-justice; tell him, bullyrook.

Shal. Sir, there is a fray to be fought, between sir Hugh the Welch priest, and Caius the French doctor. Ford. Good mine host o'the Garter, a word with you.

Host. What say'st thou, bully-rook?

[They go aside. Shal. Will you [To PAGE] go with us to behold it? My merry host hath had the measuring of their weapons; and, I think, he hath appointed them contrary places: for, believe me, I hear, the parson is no jester. Hark, I will tell you what our sport shall be.