Shal. Have with you, mine hoft. Page. I have heard, the Frenchman hath good skill in his rapier. Shal. Tut, Sir, I could have told you more; in these 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 like rats. Hoft. Here, boys, here, here: fhall we wag? Pag. Have with you; I had rather hear them fcold than fight. [Exeunt Hoft, Shallow and Page. Ford. Tho' Page be a fecure fool, (15) and stand fo firmly on his wife's frailty, yet I cannot put off my opinion fo cafily. 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 difguise to found Falftaff: if I find her honeft, I lofe not my labour; if the be otherwise, 'tis labour well beftow'd. [Exit. SCENE changes to the Garter-Inn. Enter Falftaff and Piftol. Fal. Will not lend thee a penny Pift. Why then the world's mine oyfter, which I with fword will open. I will retort the Sum in Equipage. -- Fal. Not a penny. I have been content, Sir, you Will you go on, here? Pointing out the Way, which was to lead them to the Combatants; as he afterwards fays, Here, boys, here, here: fhall we wag? Or, Will you go, myn-heers? i. e. my Malters; Both these make plain Sense; and are not remote from the Traces of the Text: but, without fome fuch Alteration, the Paf fage feems utterly unintelligible to me. (15) And fand fo firmly on his Wife's Frailty,] No, furely; Page ftood tightly to the Opinion of her Honefty, and would not entertain a Thought of her being frail. I have therefore ventur'd to substitute a Word correfpondent to the Senfe requir'd; and one, which our Poet frequently ufes, to fignify conjugal Faith. fhould ་ fhould lay my countenance to pawn; I have grated upon my good friends for three reprieves for you, and your couch-fellow, Nim; 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 miftrefs Bridget loft the handle of her fan, I took't upon mine honour, thou hadft it not. Pift. Didst thou not fhare? hadft thou not fifteen pence? Fal. Reafon, you rogue, reafon: think'ft thou, I'll endanger my foul gratis? At a word, hang no more about me, I am no gibbet for you: (16) 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 ftand upon your honour! why, thou unconfinable baseness, it is as much as I can do to keep the term of my honour precife. I, I, I my felf 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 enfconfe 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! Pift. I do relent; what wouldst thou more of Man? Enter Robin. Rob. Sir, here's a woman would speak with you. Enter Mistress Quickly. Quick. Give your worship good morrow. Quick. Not fo, and't please your worship. (16) Go, a foort knife, and a thong,] All the old Copies have it, thnong as I believe, the Author defign'd; i. e. a fhort knife and a Croud, the two Requitites for a Pick-pocket. Pickt-batch, as we may find by many places in B. Jonfon, was a noted Harbour for Thieves and Strum pets. Quic. I'll be worn, as my mother was, the first hour I was born. Fal. I do believe the fwearer: what with me? Quic. Shall I vouchfafe your worship a word or two? Fal. Two thousand, fair woman, and I'll vouchsafe thee the hearing. Quic. There is one miftrefs Ford, Sir: I pray, come a little nearer this ways: I my felf dwell with Mr. Doctor Caius. Fal. Well, on: miftrefs Ford, you fay, Quic. Your worship fays very true: I pray your worship, come a little nearer this ways. Fal. I warrant thee, no body hears: mine own people, mine own people. Quic. Are they fo? heav'n bless them, and make them his fervants. Fal. Well: miftrefs Ford, what of her? Quic. Why, Sir, fhe's a good Creature. Lord, lord, your worship's a wanton; well, heav'n forgive you, and all of us, I pray Fal. Mistress Ford, come, Miftress Ford Quic. Marry, this is the fhort and the long of it; you have brought her into fuch a canaries, as 'tis wonderful: the best Courtier of them all, when the Court lay at Windfor, could never have brought her to fuch a canary. Yet there has been knights, and lords, and gentlemen, with their coaches; I warrant you, coach after coach, letter after letter, gift after gift, fmelling fo fweetly; all musk; and fo rufsling, I warrant you, in filk and gold, and in fuch alligant terms, and in fuch wine and fugar of the best, and the faireft, that would have won any woman's heart; and, I warrant you, they could never get an eye-wink of her. I had my self twenty angels given me this morning; but I defie all angels, in any fuch fort as they fay, but in the way of honefty; and I warrant you, they could never get her fo much as fip on a cup with the proudeft of them all and yet there has been Earls, nay, which is more, Penfioners; but, I warrant you, all is one with her. Fal. Fal. But what fays fhe to me? be brief, my good She-Mercury. Quic. Marry, fhe hath receiv'd your letter, for the which the thanks you a thousand times; and the gives you to notifie, that her husband will be absence from his house between ten and eleven. Fal. Ten and eleven. Quic. Ay, forfooth; and then you may come and fee the picture, the fays, that you wot of: mafter Ford, her husband, will be from home. Alas! the fweet woman leads an ill life with him, he's a very jealoufieman; the leads a very frampold life with him, good heart. Fal. Ten and eleven: woman, commend me to her, I will not fail her. Quic. Why, you fay well: But I have another meffenger to your worship; miftrefs Page has her hearty commendations to you too; and let me tell you in your ear, fhe's as fartuous a civil modeft wife, and one (I tell you) that will not mifs you morning nor evening prayer, as any is in Windfor, whoe'er be the other; and the bad me tell your worship, that her husband is feldom from home, but, fhe hopes, there will come a time. I never knew a woman fo doat upon a man; furely, I think you have Charms, la; yes, in truth. Fal. Not I, I affure thee; fetting the attraction of my good parts afide, I have no other Charms. Quic. Bleffing on your heart for't. Fal. But I pray thee, tell me this; has Ford's wife, and Page's wife, acquainted each other how they love me? Quic. That were a jest, indeed; they have not so little grace, I hope; that were a trick, indeed! but miftreis Page would defire you to fend her your little Page, of all loves: her husband has a marvellous infection to the little Page; and, truly, mafter Page is an honest man. Never a wife in Windfor leads a better life, than fhe does; do what the will, fay what fhe will, take all, pay all, go to bed when the lift, rife when the lift, all is as fhe will; and, truly, she deserves it; for if there be a kind woman in Windsor, truly, the is one. You must fend her your Page; no remedy. Fal. Why, I will. Quic. Nay, but do fo then; and, look you, he may come and go between you both, and in any cafe have a nay-word, that you may know one another's mind: and the boy never need to understand any thing; for 'tis not good, that children fhould know any wickednefs: old folks, you know, have difcretion, as they say, and know the world. Fal. Fare thee well; commend me to them both: there's my purse, I am yet thy debtor. Boy, go along with this woman. This news diftracts me. [Ex. Quick. and Robin. Pift. This punk is one of Cupid's carriers: Clap on more fails; purfue; up with your fights; Give fire; fhe is my prize, or ocean whelm them all! [Exit Piftol. Fal. Say'ft thou fo, old Jack? go thy ways; I'll make more of thy old body, than I have done; will they yet look after thee? Wilt thou, after the expence of fo much mony, be now a gainer? good body, I thank thee; let them fay, 'tis grofsly done; fo it be fairly done, no matter. Enter Bardolph. Bard. Sir John, there's one mafter Brook below would fain speak with you, and be acquainted with you; and hath fent your worship a morning's draught of fack. Fal. Brook, is his Name? Bard. Ay, Sir. Fal. Call him in; [Ex. Bardolph.] fuch Brooks are welcome to me, that o'erflow with fuch liquor. Ah! ah! miftrefs Ford and miftrefs Page, have I encompass'd you? go to, via! Re-enter Bardolph, with Ford difguis'd. Ford. Blefs you, Sir. Fal. And you, Sir; would you speak with me? Ford. |