Fent. within.] Who's within there, hoa?
Quic. Who's there, I trow? come near the house,

I pray you.

S CEN E XI.

Enter Mr Fenton.

Fent. How now, good woman, how doft thou? Quic. The better that it pleases your good wor fhip to afk.

Fent. What news? how does pretty Mistress Anne? Quic. In truth, Sir, and fhe is pretty, and honeft, and gentle; and one that is your friend, I can tell you that by the way, I praise heav'n for it.

Fent. Shall I do any good, think'st thou? shall I not lofe my fuit?

Quic. Troth, Sir, all is in his hands above; but notwithstanding, Master Fenton, I'll be fworn on a book he loves you.-Have not your worship a wart above your eye?

Fent. Yes, marry have I; and what of that?

Quic. Well, thereby hangs a tale; good faith it is fuch another Nan; but, I deteft, an honest maid as ever broke bread;-we had an hour's talk of that wart :-I fhall never laugh but in that maid's company!-But, indeed, fhe is given too much to allicholy and mufing; but for you-Well

go to

Fent. Well, I fhall fee her to day. Hold, there's money for thee: let me have thy voice in my behalf; if thou feeft her before me, commend me

Quic. Will I? ay, faith, that we will: and I will tell your worship more of the wart, the next time we have confidence, and of other wooers.

Fent. Well, farewell, I am in great hafte now.

[Exit.

Quic. Farewell to your Worship. Truly, an honeft gentleman, but Anne loves him not; I know Anne's mind as well as another does. Out upon't, what have I forgot? [Exit.

ACT II.

SCENE I.

Before Page's Houfe.

Enter Mrs Page, with a letter.

Mrs Page.

HAT, have I 'fcap'd love-letters in the holy day-time of my beauty, and am I now a fubject for them? Let me fee:

Afk me no reason why I love you; for tho' love ufe reafon for his precifian, he admits him not for his counsellor *. You are not young, no more am I: go to then, there's sympathy: you are merry, so am I; ha! ha! then there's more fympathy: you love fack, and fo do I; would you defire better sympathy? let it fuffice thee, Miftrefs Page, at the leaft, if the love of a foldier can fuffice, that I love thee. I will not fay, pity me, 'tis not a foldier-like phrafe; but I fay, love me:

By me, thine own true Knight,

By day or night,

Or any kind of light,

With all his might,

For thee to fight.

John Falstaff.

What a Herod of Jewry is this? O wicked, wicked world! one that is well nigh worn to pieces with age, to fhow himself a young gallant! what unweigh'd behaviour hath this Flemish drunkard pick't, i' th' devil's name, out of my converfation, that he dares in this manner aflay me? why, he hath not been thrice in my company: what fhould I fay to him?-I was then frugal of my mirth-heav'n

This is obfcure; but the meaning is, tho' love permit reafon to tell what is fit to be done, he feldom follows its advice. Warburton.

Perhaps Falstaff faid, though love ufe reafon as his physician, he admits him not for his counsellor. Johnson.

forgive me-Why, I'll exhibit a bill in the parliament for the putting down of men. How fhall I be reveng❜d on him? for reveng'd I will be, as fure as his guts are made of puddings.

SCENE II.

Enter Mrs Ford.

Mrs Ford. Mrs Page, trust me, I was going to your houfe.

Mrs Page. And truft me, I was coming to you'; you look very ill.

Mrs Ford. Nay, I'll ne'er believe that; I have. to fhew to the contrary.

Mrs Page. 'Faith, but you do, in my mind.

Mrs Ford. Well, I do then; yet I fay I could fhew you to the contrary. O Mistress Page, give me fome counfel.

Mrs Page What's the matter, woman?

Mrs Ford. O woman! if it were not for one trifling respect, I could come to fuch honour.

Mrs Page. Hang the trifle, woman, take the honour; what is it? difpenfe with trifles;, what is it? Mrs Ford. If I would but go to hell for an eternal moment, or fo, I could be knighted.

Mrs Page. What?-thou lieft!-Sir Alice Ford! -thefe knights will hack, and so thou shouldst not alter the article of thy gentry.

Mrs Ford We burn day-light-here, read-read -perceive how I might be knighted-I fhall think the worle of fat-men, as long as I have an eye to make difference of mens liking; and yet he would not fwear; prais'd women's modefty; and gave fuch orderly and well-behaved reproof to all uncome. linefs, that I would have fworn his difpofition would have gone to the truth of his words; but they do no more adhere, and keep pace together, than the hundredth Pfalm to the tune of Green Sleeves. What tempeft I trow, threw this whale, with fo many ton of oil in his belly, afhore at Windfor? how fhall I be reveng'd on him? I think the best way were to entertain him with hope, 'till the wicked

fire of luft have melted him in his own greafeDid 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 firft, for, I proteft, mine never fhall. I warrant he hath a thoufand of these letters, writ with blank-fpace for different names; nay, more; and these are of the fecond edition: he will print them out of doubt, for he cares not what he puts into the prefs, when he would put us two. I had rather be a giantefs, and ly under mount Pelion. Well, I will find you twenty lafcivious turtles, ere one chafte man. Mrs Ford. Why, this is the very fame, the very hand, the very words: what doth he think of us?

Mrs Page. Nay, I know not; it makes me almoft ready to wrangle with mine own honefly. I'll entertain myfelf like one that I am not acquainted withal; for, fure, unlefs he knew for ftain in me, that I know not myfelf, he would never have boarded me in this fury.

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

Mrs Page. So will I; if he come under my hatches, I'll never to fea again. Let's be reveng'd on him; let's appoint him a meeting, give him a fhow of comfort in his fuit, and lead him on with a fine baited delay, 'till he hath pawn'd his horses to mine hoft of the Garter.

Mrs Ford. Nay, I will confent to act any villainy against him, that may not fully the charine fs. of our honefty. Oh that my hufband faw this letter! it would give him eternal food, to his jealousy.

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

Mrs Ford. You are the happier woman.

Mrs Page. Let's confult together against this. greafy knight. Come hither. [They retire.

Enter Ford with Pistol, Page with Nym.

Ford. Well, I hope it be not fo.

Pift. Hope is a curtail* dog in fome affairs. Sir John affects thy wife.

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

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

poor,

Both young and old, one with another, Ford;
He loves thy gally-mawfry, Ford, perpend.
Ford. Love my wife?

Pist. With liver burning hot : prevent, or go thou, like Sir Acteon, he, with Ring-wood at thy heelsO, odious is the name.

Ford. What name, Sir?

Pift. The horn, I fay: farewell.

Take heed, have open eye; for thieves do foot by: night.

Take heed ere fummer comes, or cuckoo-birds af

fright.

Away, Sir corporal Nym †.-
Believe it, Page, he fpeaks fenfe.

[Exit Piftol. Ford. I will be patient; I will find out this. Nym. And this is true: I like not the humour of lying; he hath wrong'd me in fome humours: I fhould have born the humour'd letter to her; but I have a fword, and it fhall bite upon my neceffityHe loves your wife; there's the fhort 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: adieu. [Exit Nym.

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

That is, a dog that miffes his game. Johnson. Nym, I believe, is out of place, and we shoulds read thus:

Away, Sir corporal.

Nym. Believe it, Page, he speaks fenfe. Johnfon...