Enter Falstaff. Fal. No, I'll come no more i'th' basket: may I not go out, ere he come? . Mrs. Page. Alas! alas! three of mafter Ford's brothers watch the door with piftols, that none should iffue out, otherwise you might flip away ere he came : but what make you here? Fal. What fhall I do? I'll creep up into the chimney. Mrs. Ford. There they always use to discharge their birding-pieces; creep into the kill-hole. Fal. Where is it? Mrs. Ford. He will feek there, on my word: neither prefs, coffer, cheft, trunk, well, vault, but he hath an abstract for the remembrance of fuch places, and goes to them by his note; there is no hiding you in the house. Fal. I'll go out then. Mrs. Ford. If you go out in your own femblance, you die, Sir John, unless you go out difguis'd. How might we disguise him? Mrs. Page. Alas-the-day, I know not, there is no woman's gown big enough for him; otherwise, he might put on a hat, a muffler, and a kerchief, and so escape. Fal. Good heart, devife fomething; any extremity, rather than mischief. Mrs. Ford. My maid's aunt, the fat woman of Brainford, has a gown above. Mrs. Page. On my word, it will ferve him; fhe's as big as he is, and there's her thrumb hat, and her muffler too. Run up, Sir John. Mrs. Ford. Go, go, fweet Sir John; mistress Page and I will look fome linnen for your head. Mrs. Page. Quick, quick, we'll come drefs you ftraight; put on the gown the while. [Ex. Falstaff. Mrs. Ford. I would, my husband would meet him in this fhape; he cannot abide the old woman of Brainford; he fwears, fhe's a witch, forbad her my house, and hath threatned to beat her. Mrs. Mrs. Page. Heav'n guide him to thy husband's cudgel, and the devil guide his cudgel afterwards! Mrs. Ford. But is my husband coming? Mrs. Page. Ay, in good fadnefs is he; and talks of the basket too, however he hath had intelligence. Mrs. Ford. We'll try that; for I'll appoint my men to carry the basket again, to meet him at the door with it, as they did last time. Mrs. Page. Nay, but he'll be here presently; let's go drefs him like the witch of Brainford. Mrs. Ford. I'll first direct my men, what they fhall do with the basket; go up, I'll bring linnen for him straight. Mrs, Page. Hang him, dishonest varlet, we cannot mifufe him enough. We'll leave a proof, by that which we will do, We do not act, that often jeft and laugh: 'Tis old but true, Still fwine eats all the draugh. Mrs. Ford. Go, Sirs, take the basket again on your fhoulders; your mafter is hard at door; if he bid you fet it down, obey him: quickly, dispatch. [Exeunt Mrs. Page and Mrs. Ford. Enter Servants with the basket. · 1 Serv. Come, come, take up. 2 Serv. Pray heav'n, it be not full of the Knight again. I Serv. I hope not. I had as lief bear so much lead. Enter Ford, Shallow, Page, Caius and Evans. Ford. Ay, but if it prove true, mafter Page, have you any way then to unfool me again? fet down the basket, villain; fomebody call my wife: youth in a basket! oh you panderly rascals, there's a knot, a gang, a pack, a confpiracy, against me: now fhall the devil be fham'd. What! wife, I fay; come, come forth, behold what honeft cloaths you fend forth to bleaching. Page. Page. Why, this paffes, mafter Ford, you are not to go loofe any longer, you must be pinnion'd. Eva. Why, this is lunaticks; this is mad as a mad dog. Enter Mrs. Ford. Shal. Indeed, mafter Ford, this is not well, indeed. Ford. So fay I too, Sir. Come hither, mistress Ford; miftrefs Ford, the honeft woman, the modeft wife, the virtuous creature, that hath the jealous fool to her hus band! I fufpect without cause, mistress, do I? Mrs. Ford. Heav'n be my witness you do, if you sufpect me in any dishonesty. Ford. Well faid, brazen-face; hold it out: come forth, Sirrah. [Pulls the cloaths out of the basket. Page. This paffes, Mrs. Ford. Are you not afham'd, let the cloaths alone. Ford. I fhall find you anon. Eva. 'Tis unreasonable; will you take up your wife's cloaths? come away. Ford. Empty the basket, I fay. Mrs. Ford, Why, man, why? Ford. Matter Page, as I am a man, there was one convey'd out of my houfe yesterday in this basket; why may not he be there again? in my house I am fure he is; my intelligence is true, my jealoufie is reafonable; pluck me out all the linnen. Mrs. Ford. If you find a man there, he shall die a flea's death. Page. Here's no man. Shal. By my fidelity, this is not well, mafter Ford; this wrongs you. Eva. Mafter Ford, you must pray, and not follow the imaginations of your own heart; this is jealoufies. Ford. Well, he's not here I feek for. Page. No, nor no where elfe but in your brain. Ford. Help to fearch my house this one time; if I find not what I feek, fhew no colour for my extremity; let me for ever be your table-fport; let them fay of me, as jealous as Ford, that fearched a hol low low wall-nut for his wife's leman. Satisfie me once more, once more fearch with me. Mrs. Ford. What hoa, mistress Page! come you, and the old woman down; my husband will come into the chamber. Ford. Old woman! what old woman's that? Mrs. Ford. Why, it is my maid's aunt of Brainford. Ford. A witch, a quean, an old cozening quean; have I-not forbid her my houfe? fhe comes of errands, does the? we are fimple men, we do not know what's brought to pass under the profeffion of fortune-telling. She works by charms, by fpells, by th' figure; and fuch dawbry as this is beyond our element; we know nothing. Come down, you witch; you hag you, come down, I fay. Mrs. Ford. Nay, good fweet husband; good gentlemen, let him not ftrike the old woman. Enter Falstaff in womens cloaths, and Mrs. Page. Mrs. Page. Come, mother Prat, come, give me your hand. Ford. I'll Prat her. Out of my door, you witch! [Beats him.] you hag, you baggage, you poulcat, you runnion! out, out, out; I'll conjure you, I'll fortunetell you. [Exit Fal. Mrs. Page. Are you not asham'd? I think, you have kill'd the poor woman. Mrs. Ford. Nay, he will do it; 'tis a goodly credit for you. Ford. Hang her, witch. Eva. By yea and no, I think, the o'man is a witch indeed: I like not, when a o'man has a great peard; I fpy a great peard under her muffler. Ford. Will you follow, gentlemen? I beseech you, follow; fee but the iffue of my jealoufie; (21) if I cry out (21) If I cry out thus upon no tryal, never trust me when I open again.] This is a Corruption of the modern Editions: the Confequence either of Indolence, or Ignorance. The two firft Folio's have it rightly, trayle; which is a hunting-terme, and correfponds with cry out, and open. Our out thus upon no trail, never truft me when I open a gain. Page. Let's obey his humour a little further: come, gentlemen. [Exeunt. Mrs. Page. Trust me, he beat him moft pitifully. Mrs. Ford. Nay, by th' mafs, that he did not; hé beat him most unpitifully, methought. Mrs. Page. I'll have the cudgel hallow'd and hung o'er the altar; it hath done meritorious fervice. Mrs. Ford. What think you? may we, with the warrant of woman-hood, and the witness of a good confcience, pursue him with any further revenge? Mrs. Page. The spirit of wantonnefs is, fure, scar'd out of him; if the devil have him not in fee-fimple, with fine and recovery, he will never, I think, in the way of wafte, attempt us again. Mrs. Ford. Shall we tell our husbands how we have ferved him? Mrs. Page. Yes, by all means; if it be but to scrape the figures out of your husband's brain. If they can find in their hearts the poor unvirtuous fat Knight fhall be any further afflicted, we two will ftill be the minifters. Mrs. Ford. I'll warrant, they'll have him publickly fham'd; and, methinks, there would be no period to the jeft, fhould he not be publickly fham'd. Mrs. Page. Come to the forge with it, then fhape it: I would not have things cool. [Exeunt. SCENE changes to the Garter-Inn. Enter Hoft and Bardolph. Bard. Shores, the Duke himfelf will be to morrow IR, the German defires to have three of your at Court, and they are going to meet him. Hoft. What Duke should that be, comes so fecret Our Author ufes the Word again twice in his Hamlet. Or else this Brain of mine hunts not the Trayle of Policy, &c. ly? |