Fal. What shall this be?

Mrs. Ford and Mrs. Page. Away, away.

[MRS. FORD and MRS. PAGE run away, L.

Fal. They are fairies:

Enter EVANS, and others, dressed like Fairies, led on by ANNE PAGE.

I'll wink and couch.

[Takes off his horns, and lies down upon his face, L.

[Some of the Fairies dance round FALSTAFF, and beat him with their wands, while others sing chorus.]

FAIRIES.

Trip away,
Make no stay,

Meet we all by break of day.

A noise of hunting is made within.-SLENDER and CAIUS come on, and each run away with a Fairy, L.-FENTON enters L. S. E. and meets ANNE, who enters R. and exeunt embracing, L.-FORD and PAGE raise FALSTAFF.-FALSTAFF shews great terror-All the above dance to quick music—the action is very rapid.

Enter FORD, PAGE, MRS. FORD, and MRS. PAGE, L. Page. Nay, do not fly: I think, we have watch'd

you now;

Will none but Herne the hunter, serve your turn?

Mrs. Page. Now, good Sir John, how like you Windsor wives?

Ford. Now, sir, who's a cuckold now ?-Master Brook, Falstaff's a knave, a cuckoldly knave; here are his horns, Master Brook: And, Master Brook, he hath enjoyed nothing of Ford's but his buck-basket, his cudgel, and twenty pounds of money; which must be paid to Master Brook.

Mrs. Ford. Sir John, we have had ill luck; we could never meet. I will never take you for my love again, but I will always count you my deer.

Fal. I do begin to perceive, that I am made an ass. Ford. Ay, and an ox too; both the proofs are ex

tant.

Fal. And these are not fairies? I was three or four times in the thought, they were not fairies: and yet in

F

the guiltiness of my mind, the sudden surprise of my powers, drove the grossness of the foppery into a received belief, that they were fairies. See now, how wit may be made a Jack-a-lent, when 'tis upon ill employment!

Eva. (L.) Sir John Falstaff, serve heaven, and leave your desires, and fairies will not pinse you.

Ford. Well said, fairy Hugh.

Eva. And leave you your jealousies too, I pray you. Fal. Have I laid my brain in the sun? Am I ridden with a Welch goat? 'tis time I were choaked with a piece of toasted cheese.

Eva. Seese is not good to give putter; your pelly is all putter.

Fal. Seese and putter! Have I liv'd to stand at the taunt of one that makes fritters of English?

Mrs. Page. Why, Sir John, do you think, though we would have thrust virtue out of our hearts by the head and shoulders, that ever the devil could have made you our delight?

Ford. What a bag of flax?
Mrs. Ford. A puff'd man?

Page. Old, cold, wither'd.

Ford. And one that is as slanderous as Satan?
Page. And as poor as Job?

Ford. And as wicked as his wife?

Eva. And given to fornications, and to taverns, and sack, and wine, and swearings, and starings, pribbles, and prabbles?

Fal. Well, I am your theme; you have the start of me: I am not able to answer the Welch flannel; use me as you will.

Ford. Marry, sir, we'll bring you to Windsor, to one Master Brook, that you have cozened of money. Mrs. Ford. Nay, husband, let that go to make amends:

Forgive that sum, and so we'll all be friends.

Ford. Well, here's my hand; all's forgiven at last. Page. Yet be cheerful, knight: thou shalt eat a posset to-night at my house; where I will desire thee to laugh at my wife, that now laughs at thee: Tell her, Master Slender hath married her daughter.

Mrs. Page. Doctors doubt that; if Anne Page be my daughter, she is, by this, Doctor Caius' wife.

[Aside.

Enter SLENDER, crying, R.

Slen. Whoo, ho! ho! father Page!

Page. Son! how now? how now, son? have you despatch'd?

Slen. Despatch'd !-I'll make the best in Gloucestershire know on't; would I were hang'd, la, else.

Page. Of what, son?

Slen. I came yonder at Eton to marry Mistress Anne Page, and she's a great lubberly boy: If it had not been i'the church, I would have swing'd him, or he should have swing'd me. If I did not think it had been Ame Page, would I might never stir, and 'tis a postmaster's boy.

Page. Upon my life, then you took the wrong.

Slen. What need you tell me that? I think so, when I took a boy for a girl; if I had been married to him, for all he was in woman's apparel, I would not have had him.

Page. Why, this is your own folly. Did not I tell you, how you should know my daughter by her gar

ments?

Slen. I went to her in white, [Crosses to L.] and cry'd, mum, and she cry'd budget, as Anne and I had appointed; and yet it was not Anne, but a postmaster'sboy. [Exit, L.

Mrs. Page. Good George, be not angry: I knew of your purpose; turned my daughter into green; and, indeed, she is now with the doctor at the deanery, and there married.

Enter CAIUS, R.

Caius. Vere is Mistress Page? By gar, I am cozen'd: I ha' married un garçon, a boy; un paisan, by gar, a boy; it is not Anne Page: by gar, I am cozened.

Mrs. Page. Why, did you take her in green? Caius. Ay, by gar, and 'tis a boy: be gar, I'll raise all Windsor.

Ford. This is strange:

Anne?

[Exit, L. Who hath got the right

Page. My heart misgives me: Here comes Master Fenton.

Enter FENTON, and ANNE Page, r.

How now, Master Fenton?

Anne. Pardon, good father! good my mother, pardon !

Page. Now, mistress! how chance you went not with Master Slender?

Mrs. Page. Why went you not with master Doctor, maid?

Fent. You do amaze her: Hear the truth of it.
You would have married her,

Where there was no proportion held in love.
The truth is, she and I long since contracted,
Are now so sure, that nothing can dissolve us.

Ford. Stand not amaz'd: here is no remedy:In love, the heavens themselves do guide the state ;Money buys lands, and wives are sold by fate.

Fal. I am glad, though you have ta'en a special stand to strike at me, that your arrow hath glanc'd.

Page. Well, what remedy? Fenton, heaven give thee joy!

What cannot be eschew'd, must be embrac'd.

Eva. I will dance, and eat plums, at your wedding. Fal. When night-dogs run, all sorts of deer are chas'd.

Mrs. Page. Well I will muse no further :-Master
Fenton,

Heaven give you many, many blithsome days!--
Good husband, let us every one go home,

And laugh this sport o'er by a country fire;

Sir John and all.

Page. Aye, to-night we meet to celebrate our daughter's birth-day.

Ford. Let it be so:-Sir John,

To Master Brook you yet shall hold your word;
For he, to night, shall sleep with Mistress Ford.

CHORUS.-JUNO and CERES.

Away, away, make holiday,

Your rye-straw hats put on,

Each take his lass, and beat the grass,

Let toil and care begone.

THE END.

T. DOLBY, Printer, 17, Catherine Street, Strand, London.