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Ford. I am bleft in your acquaintance. Do you know Ford, Sir?
Fal. Hang him, poor cuckoldly knave; I know him not; yet I wrong him to call him poor: they say the jealous wittolly knave hath masses of money, for the which his wife seems to be well-favourd. I will use her as the key of the cuckoldlyrogue's coffer; and there's my harvest-home.
Ford. I would you knew Ford, Sir, that you might avoid him, if you faw him.
Fal. Hang hiin, mechanical falt-butter rogue : I will stare him out of his wits; I will awe him with my cudgel ; it shall hang like a meteor o'er the cuckold's horns. Master Brook, thou shalt know I will predominate over the peasant, and thou shalt ly with his wife.. -Come to me soon at night. Ford's a knave, and I will aggravate his style: thou, Master Brook, shall know him for kiave and cuckold.- Come to me foon at night.
[Exit S CE N E X. Ford. What a damn'd Epicurean rascal is this ! my heart is ready to crack with impatience. Who says this is improvident jealousy?" my wife haih fent to him, the hour is fix'd, the match is made ; would any man have thought this ? see the hell of having a false woman! my bed shall be abus'd, my cotřers ransack'd, my reputation gnawn at; and I shall not only receive this villainous wrong, but itand under the adoption of abomnable terms, and by him that does me the wrong. Terins, names; Amaimon founds well; Lucifer well; Barbason well; yet they are devils' additions, the names of tiends : but cuckold, wittol, cuckold ! the devil himself bath not such a name. Page is an ass, a tecure ass, he will trust his wife; he will not be jealous: I will rather trust a Fleming with my butter, parson Hugh the Welshman with my cheese, an Irishman with my aquavitæ bottle, or a thief to walk my ambling gelding, than my wife with herfelf. Then she plois, then she ruminates, then lie
devises : and what they think in their hearts they may effect, they will break their hearts but they will effect. Heav'n be prais'd for my jealousy !Eleven o'clock the hour-I will prevent this, detect my wife, be revengd on Falstaff, and laugh at Page. I will about it—better three hours too soon, than a minute too late. Fy, fy, fy; cuckold, cuckold, cuckold!
Enter Caius and Rugby.
Rug. 'Tis past the hour, Sir, that Sir Hugh promis'd to meet.
Caius. By gar, he has save his foul, dat he is no come ; he has pray his Bible well, dat he is no come: by gar, Jack Rugby, he is dead already, if he be come.
Rug, He is wife, Sir: he knew your worship would kill him if he came.
Caius. By gar de herring is not so dead as me will make him. Take your rapier, Jack; I vill tell you how I vill kill him.
Rug. Alas, Sir, I cannot fence.
Enter Host, Shallow, Slender and Page.
Caius. Vat be all you, one, two, tree, four, come for?
Hoft. To see thee fight, to see thee foin, to see thee traverse, to see thee here, to see thee there, to see thee pass thy punto, thy stock, thy reverse, a
thy distance, thy montant. Is he dead, my Ethi. opian? is he dead, my Francisco? ha, bully, what says my Aesculapius ? my Galen? my heart of elder ? ha? is he dead, bully-stale? is he dead?
Caius. By gar, he is de coward Jack Priest of de vorld; he is not how his face.
Hoft. Thou art a Caftalian-king-Urinal : Hece tor of Greece, my boy.
Caius. I pray you bear witness, that me have Itay six or seven, two, tree hours for him, and he is no come.
Shal. He is the wiser man, Mr Doctor; he is a curer of fouls, and you a curer of bodies: if you should fight, you go against the hair of your professions : is it not true, Master Page ?
Page. Master Shallow, you have yourself been a great fighter, though now a man of peace.
Shal. Body-kins, Mr Page, though I now be old, and of peace, if I see a sword out, my finger itches to make one; though we are justices, and doctors, and church-men, Mr Page, we have some fali of our youth in us; we are the sons of women, Mr Page.
Page. 'Tis true, Mr Shallow.
Shal. It will be found so, Mr Page. Mr Doctor Caius, I am come to fetch you home. I am sworn of the peace; you have shew'd yourself a wise phyfician, and Sir Hugh hath shown himself a wise and patient churchman. You muft go with me, Mr Doctor.
Hoft. Pardon, guest-justice.-A word, Monsieur mock-water.
Caius. Mock-vater? vat is dat?
Hoft. Mockwater, in our English tongue, is valour, bully.
Caius. By gar, then I have as much mock-vater as de Englishman scurvy-jack-dog-priest; by gar me vill cut his ears.
Hoft. He will clapper-claw thee tightly, bully.
Caius. By gar me do look, he shall clapper-declaw me; for by gar me vill have it.
Hoft. And I will provoke him to't, or let him wag. Caius. Me tank you for dat.
Host. And moreover, bully.-But first, Mr Guest, and Mr Page, and eek Cavaliero Slender, go you through the town to Frogmore.
Page. Sir Hugh is there, is he?
Hoft. He is there; see what humour he is in ; and I will bring the Doctor about the fields :: wil it do well ?
Shal. We will do it.
[Exeunt Page, Shallow and Slender. Caius. By gar me vill kill de priest'; for he: fpeak for a jack-an-ape to Anne Page.
Hoft. Let him die ; but first; sheath thy impa-tience; throw cold water on thy choler; go about the fields with me through Frogmore; I will bring thee where Mistress Anne Page is, at a farm-house, a feasting; and thou fhalt wooe her. Cry aim; said I well?
Caius. By gar me tank you vor dat: by gar I love you; and I shall procure 'a you de good guest; de earl, de knight, de lords, de gentlemen, my, patients.
Host. For the which I will be thy adversary to.. ward Anne Page : said I well?
Caius. By gar 'tis good ; vell said.
Frogmore near Windfor.
Enter Evans and Simple.
way have you look'd for Master Caius, that calls himself Doctor of Physic?
Sim. Marry, Sir, the Pitty-wary, the Park-ward, every way, old Windsor way, and every way but the town way.
Eva. I most fehemently desire you, you will also look that way.
Sim. I will, Sir.
Eva. 'Pless my soul, how full of cholars I am, and trempling of mind! I shall be glad if he have deceiv'd me; how melanchollies I am! I will knog his urinals about his knave's coftard, when I have good opportunities for the orke : 'Pless my soul !
[Sings, being afraid.
And a thousand vagrant posies.
When as I sat in Pabilon ;-—and a thousand vagrant posies. By mallow, &c. Sim. Yonder he is coming, this way, Sir Hugh.
Eva. He's welcome. By Jallow rivers, to whoj falls Heav'n prosper the right! what weapons is he?
Sin. No weapons, Sir; there comes my master, Mr Shallow, and another gentleman from Frog. more, over the stile, this way.
Eva. Pray you, give me my gown, or else keep it in your arms.
S C Ε Ν Ε II.
Slen. Ah sweet Anne Page!