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ner, George? --Look, who comes yonder: fhe shall be our meffenger to this paultry Knight.

[Afide to Mrs. Ford.

Enter Mistress Quickly.

Mrs. Ford. Trust me, I thought on her, fhe'll fit it. Mrs. Page. You are come to fee my daughter Anne? Quick. Ay, forfooth; and, I pray, how does good miftrefs Anne?

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

[Ex. Mrs. Page, Mrs. Ford, and Mrs. Quickly.


Page. How now, mafter 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, flaves; I do not think, the Knight would offer it; but thefe, that accuse him in his intent towards our wives, are a yoak of his difcarded men; 3 very rogues, now they be out of fer


Ford. Were they his men?

Page. Marry, were they.

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

Page. Ay, marry, does he. If he should intend his voyage towards my wife, I would turn her loofe to him; and what he gets more of her than fharp words, let it lye on my head.

Ford. I do not mifdoubt my wife, but I would be

3 Very rogues, now they be out of fervice.] A rogue is a wanderer

or vagabond, and, in its confequential fignification, a cheat.


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loth to turn them together; a man may be too confident; I would have nothing lye on my head; I cannot be thus fatisfy'd.

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



Enter Hoft and Shallow.

Hoft. How, now, bully Rock? thou'rt a gentleman; cavalero-justice, Ì say.

Shal. I follow, mine Hoft, I follow. Good even, and twenty, good mafter Page. Mafter Page, will you go with us? we have sport in hand.

Hoft. Tell him, cavaliero justice; tell him, bully Rock?

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

Hoft. What fay'ft thou, bully Rock?

[They go a little afide. Shal. [To Page.] Will you go with us to behold it? my merry Host hath had the meafuring of their Weapons, and, I think, he hath appointed them contrary places; for, believe me, I hear, the parfon is no jester. Hark, I will tell you what our sport shall be.

Hoft. Haft thou no fuit against my Knight, my gueft-cavalier?

Ford. None, I proteft; but I'll give you a pottle of burnt fack to give me recourfe to him, and tell him, my name is Brook; only for a jeft.


4 And tell him, my Name is Brook; ] Thus both the old VOL. II.


Quarto's; and thus most certainly the Poet wrote. We need no better


Hoft. My hand, bully. Thou fhalt have egrefs and régrefs; faid I well? and thy name fhall be Brook. It is a merry Knight. 5 Will you go an-heirs? Shal. Have with you, mine host.

Page. I have heard, the Frenchman hath good skill in his rapier.

Shal. Tut, Sir, I could have told you more. In thefe times you ftand on diftance, your paffes, ftoccado's, and I know not what. 'Tis the heart, mafter Page; 'tis here, 'tis here. I have feen the time with my 'long fword, I would have made you four tall fellows skip Jike rats.

Hoft. Here, boys, here, here: fhall we wag?

Page. Have with you; I had rather hear them fcold than fight. [Exeunt Hoft, Shallow and Page. Ford. Tho' Page be a fecure fool, and ftand fo firmly

better Evidence, than the Pun that Falstaff anon makes on the Name, when Brook fends him fome burnt Sack.

Such Brooks are welcome to me, that overflow with fuch Liquor. The Players, in their Editions, altered the Name to Broom.

THEOBALD s Will you g' AN HEIRS This nonfenfe is fpoken to Shailaw. We fhould read, Will you go ON, HERIS? i. e. Will you go on, Mafter. Heris, an old Scotch word for mafter. WARBURTON.

6 My long fword] Not long before the introduction of rapiers, the fwords in ufe were of an enormous length, and fometimes raifed with both hands. Shallow, with an old man's vanity, cenfures the innovation by which lighter weapons were introduced, tells what he could once

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firmly on his wife's fealty, yet I cannot put off my opinion so easily. She was in his company at Page's house; and what they made there, I know not. Well, I will look further into't; and I have a disguise to found Falstaff: if I find her honeft, I lofe not my labour; if the be otherwife, 'tis labour well beftow'd.




Changes to the Garter-Inn.

Enter Falstaff and Pistol.


Will not lend thee a penny.


Pift. Why then the world's mine oyster, which I with fword will open.-I will retort the fum in Equipage.


Fal. Not a penny. I have been content, Sir, you fhould lay my countenance to pawn; I have grated upon my good friends for three reprieves for you, and your couch-fellow, Nym; or else you had look'd through the grate, like a geminy of baboons. I am damn'd in hell for fwearing to gentlemen, my friends, you were good foldiers, and tall fellows. And when Mrs. Bridget loft the handle of her fan, I took't upon mine honour, thou hadft it not.

Pift. Didft thou not fhare? hadft thou not fifteen pence?

ten, and he believes it not, but
will go on, may I not fay, whe
I fee him upon it, that he stands
firmly on a rotten plank? Yet
he has changed frailty for fealty,
and the Oxford Editor has fol-
lowed him. But they took the
phrafe, to ftand firmly on, to fig-
nify to infift upon; whereas it fig-
nifies to reft upon, which the cha-

racter of a secure fool, given to him, ws. So that the common reading has an elegance that would be loft in the alteration. WARBURTON. 8 I will retort the fum in equis page.] This is added from the old Quarto of 1619, and means, I will pay you again in ftolen goods. WARBURTON.



Fal. Reason, you rogue, reafon: think'ft thou, I'M endanger my foul gratis? At a word, hang no more about me, I am no gibbet for you..-Go.-- A fhort knife and a throng-to your manor of 'Pickt-hatch.-Go.You'll not bear a letter for me, you rogue !-you stand upon your honour!-why, thou unconfinable baseness, it is as much as I can do to keep the term of my honour precise. I, I, I myself fometimes, leaving the fear of heaven on the left hand, and hiding mine honour in my neceffity, am fain to fhuffle, to hedge and to lurch; and yet you rogue will enfconce your rags, your cat-a-mountain looks, your red lettice phrafes, and your bold-beating oaths, under the shelter of your honour! You will not do it, you!

Pit. I do relent: what wouldft thou more of man?

Enter Robin.

Rob. Sir, here's a woman would speak with you.
Fal. Let her approach.


Enter Mrs. Quickly.

Quic. Give your worship good-morrow.
Fal. Good morrow, good wife.

Quic. Not fo, and't please your worship.

Fal. Good maid, then.

Quic. I'll be fworn, as my mother was, the first hour I was born.

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