Графични страници
PDF файл


Page's House.
Enter Mrs. Page, Mrs. Quickly, and William.

Mrs. P A GE. T She at Mr. Ford's already, think’lt thou ? 1 Quic. Sure, he is by this, or will be prefently ;

but truly he is very courageous mad, about his throwing into the water ; Mrs. Ford desires you to come suddenly.

Mrs. Page. I'll be with her by and by; I'll but bring my young man here to school. Look, where his master comes ; 'tis a playing-day, I fee. How now, Sir Hugh, no school to day?

Enter Evans. Eva. No; master Slender is let the boys leave to play.

Quic. Blessing of his heart ! Mrs. Page. Sir Hugh, my husband says, my fon profits nothing in the world at his book ; I pray you, ask him some questions in his Accidence.

Eva. Come hither, William ; hold up your head, come.

Mrs. Page. Come on, Sirrah, hold up your head, answer your master, be not afraid.

Eva. William, how many numbers is in nouns ?
Wil. Two.

Quic. Truly, I thought there had been one number more, because they say, od's nouns.

Eva. Peace your tatlings. What is Fair, William ? Wil. Pulcher.

Quic. Poulcats? there are fairer things than poulcats, sure.


[ocr errors]

Eva. You are a very simplicity 'oman; I pray you, peace. What is Lapis, William ?

Wil. A stone.
Eva. And what is a stone, William ?
Wil. A pebble.

Eva. No, it is Lapis: I pray you, remember in your prain.

Will. Lapis.

Eva. That is a good William : what is he, William, that does lend articles ?

Will. Articles are borrow'd of the pronoun, and be thus declin’d, fingulariter nominativo, bic, bæc, boc.

Eva. Nominativo, big, bag, hog; pray you, mark: genitivo, bujus: well, what is your accusative case? Will. Accusative, hinc.

Eva. I pray you, have your remembrance, child; accusative, hung, hang, bog.

Quic. Hang hog is Latin for bacon, I warrant you,

Eva. Leave your prabbles, 'oman. What is the focative case, William ?

Will. O, vocativo, O.
Eva. Remember, William, focative is caret.
Quic. And that's a good root.
Eva. 'Oman, forbear.
Mrs. Page. Peace.
Eva. What is your genitive case plural, William?
Will. Genitive case ?
Eva. Ay. .
Will. Genitive, horum, barum, borum.

Quic. Vengeance of Giney's case; fie on her! never name her, child, if she be a whore.

Eva. For shame, 'oman.

Quic. You do ill to teach the child such words: he teaches him to hick and to hack, which they'll do falt enough of themselves; and to call horum ; fie upon you !

Eva. 'Oman, art thou lunacies? halt thou no understandings for thy cases, and the numbers of the genders ? thou art as foolish christian creatures, as I would desire.

Mrs. Page. Pry’thee, hold thy peace.

Eva. Shew me now, William, fome declensions of your pronouns.

Will. Forsooth, I have forgot.

Eva. It is, qui, quæ, quod; if you forget your quies, your ques and your quods, you must be preeches : go your ways and play, go.

Mrs. Page. He is a better scholar, than I thought he was. · Eva. He is a good sprag memory. Farewel, Mrs. Page.

Mrs. Page. Adieu, good Sir Hugh. Get you home, boy. Come, we stay too long.

(Exeunt. is c E NE II.

Changes to Ford's House.

Enter Falstaff and Mrs. Ford. Fal. M Istress Ford, your forrow hath eaten up my

I sufferance ; I see, you are obsequious in your love, and I profess requital to a hair's breadth ; not only, mistress Ford, in the simple office of love, but in all the accouftrement, complement, and ceremony of it. But are you sure of your husband now?

Mrs. Ford. He's a birding, sweet Sir John.

Mrs. Page. [within.] What hoa, gossip Ford! what hoa ! Mrs. Ford. Step into the chamber, Sir John.

(Exit Falstaff: Enter Mrs. Page. Mrs. Page. How now, sweet heart, who's at home besides your self? Vol. I.

Mrs. Ford.

Mrs. Ford. Why, none but mine own people.
Mrs. Page. Indeed ?
Mrs. Ford. No, certainly- Speak louder. Afide.

Mrs Page. Truly, I am so glad you have no body here.

Mrs. Ford. Why?

Mrs. Page. Why, woman, your husband is in his old lunes again ; he fo takes on yonder with my husband, fo rails against all married mankind, so curses all Eve's daughters, of what complexion foever, and so buffets himself on the forehead, crying, peer-out, peer-out ! that any madness I ever yet beheld feem'd but tameness, civility, and patience, to this distemper he is in now; I am glad, the fat knight is not here.

Mrs. Ford. Why, does he talk of him?

Mrs. Page. Of none but him ; and fwears, he was carry'd out, the last time he search'd for him, in a basket; protests to my husband, he is now here ; and hath drawn him and the rest of their company from their sport, to make another experiment of his suspicion ; but I am glad, the knight is not here ; now he shall see his own foolery.

Mrs. Ford. How near is he, mistress Page ? * Mrs. Page. Hard by, at street's end, he will be here anon.

Mrs. Ford. I am undone, the knight is here.

Mrs. Page. Why, then thou art utterly sham'd, and he's but a dead man. What a woman are you? away with him, away with him ; better thame than murther.

Mrs. Ford. Which way should he go? how should I bestow him? shall I put him into the basket again?



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 master Ford's brothers watch the door with pistols, that none should issue out, otherwise you might Nip away ere he came; but what make you here?

Fal. What shall 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 seek there, on my word: neither press, coffer, chest, trunk, well, vault, but he hath an abstract for the remembrance of such 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 semblance, you die, Sir John, unless you go out disguis’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 muffer, and a kerchief, and so cscape.

Fal. Good heart, devise something ; any extremity, rather than mischief.:

Mrs. Ford. My maid's aunt, the fat woman of Bra inford, has a gown above.

Mrs. Page. On my word, it will serve him ; she's as big as he is, and there's her thrúm hat, and her muffer too. Run up, Sir John.

Mrs. Ford. Go, go, sweet Sir John; mistress Page and I will look some linnen for your head.

Y a

Mrs. Page.

« ПредишнаНапред »