Imágenes de páginas

ACT II PAGE, SHAL., and SLEN. Adieu, good Master Doctor. Sc. III [Exeunt PAGE, SHALLOW, and SLENDER. CAIUS. By gar, me vill kill de priest; for he speak for a jack-an-ape to Anne Page.

HOST. Let him die: sheath thy impatience; throw cold water on thy choler: go about the fields with me through Frogmore; I will bring thee where Mistress Anne Page is, at a farmhouse a-feasting; and thou shalt woo her. Cried I aim ?1 said I well?


CAIUS. By gar, me dank you vor dat: by gar, I love you;

and I shall procure-a you de good guest, de earl, de knight, de lords, de gentlemen, my patients.

HOST. For the which, I will be thy adversary toward

Anne Page; said I well?

CAIUS. By gar, 'tis good; vell said.

HOST. Let us wag then.

CAIUS. Come at my heels, Jack Rugby.


SCENE I. A Field near Frogmore.


EVANS. I pray you now, good Master Slender's serving

man, and friend Simple by your name, which way have you look'd for Master Caius, that calls himself Doctor of Physic?

SIM. Marry, Sir, the Petty-ward, the Park-ward, every
way; old Windsor way, and every way but the town

EVANS. I most fehemently desire you, you will also look
that way.
SIM. I will, Sir.
EVANS. 'Pless my soul! how full of cholers I am, and
trempling of mind!-I shall be glad, if he have
deceiv'd me. How melancholies I am!-I will knog
his urinals about his knave's costard,' when I have
good opportunities for the 'ork.-'Pless my soul!


1 (slang) was I on the spot?


2 (slang) nut.


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SIM. Yonder he is, coming this way, Sir Hugh.

EVANS. He's welcome:-1

Sc. I


isabnues To shallow rivers, to whose falls

Heaven prosper the right!—What weapons is he? SIM. No weapons, Sir. There comes my master, Master allow, and another gentleman from Frogmore, over stile, this way. EVANS. Pray you, give me my gown; or else keep it in your arms.





SHAL. How now, Master Parson? Good-morrow, good Sir Hugh. Keep a gamester from the dice, and a good student from his book, and it is wonderful.

SLEN. [aside.] Ah, sweet Anne Page!

PAGE, 'Save you, good Sir Hugh!


EVANS. 'Pless you from His mercy sake, all of you.
SHAL. What! the sword and the Word! Do you study

I : BB

them both, Master Parson?

PAGE. And youthful still! in your doublet and hose, this

raw rheumatic day?

EVANS. There is reasons and causes for it.

PAGE. We are come to you, to do a good office, Master

EVANS. Fery well. What is it?


PAGE. Yonder is a most reverend gentleman, who belike, having receiv'd wrong by some person, is at most odds with his own gravity and patience that ever you saw.


ACT III SHAL. I have liv'd fourscore years and upward: I never Sc. I heard a man of his place, gravity, and learning so wide of his own respect.

EVANS. What is he?

PAGE. I think you know him: Master Doctor Caius, the
renown'd French physician.

EVANS. Got's will, and His passion of my heart! I had
as lief you would tell me of a mess of porridge.
PAGE. Why?


EVANS. He has no more knowledge in Hibocrates and

Galen-and he is a knave besides: a cowardly knave
as you would desires to be acquainted withal.

PAGE. I warrant you, he's the man should fight with him.
SLEN. [aside.] O, sweet Anne Page!

SHAL. It appears so, by his weapons. Keep them asunder:
here comes Doctor Caius.

Enter Host, CAIUS, and RUGBY.

PAGE. Nay, good Master Parson, keep in your weapon.
SHAL. So do you, good Master Doctor.

HOST. Disarm them, and let them question.1 Let them
keep their limbs whole, and hack our English.


CAIUS. I pray you, let-a me speak a word with your ear:

verefore vill you not meet-a me?

EVANS. Pray you, use your patience in good time.
CAIUS. By gar, you are de coward, de Jack Dog, John

EVANS. [aside to CAIUS.] Pray you, let us not be laugh-
ing-stogs to other men's humours; I desire you in
friendship, and I will one way or other make you amends.
[aloud.] I will knog your urinals about your knave's
cogscomb for missing your meetings and appointments.
CAIUS. Diable!-Jack Rugby-mine Host de Jarteer—
have I not stay for him, to kill him? have I not, at de
place I did appoint?


EVANS. As I am a Christians soul, now, look you, this is the place appointed: I'll be judgment by mine Host of the Garter.

HOST. Peace, I say, Gallia and Gaul, French and Welsh, soul-curer and body-curer.

1 talk.

CAIUS. Ay, dat is very good! excellent!
HOST. Peace, I say; hear mine Host of the Garter. Am
I politic? am I subtle? am I a Machivel? Shall I

lose my Doctor? no; he gives me the potions and the motions. Shall I lose my Parson? my Priest, my Sir Hugh? no; he gives me the proverbs and the noOverbs. — Give me thy hand, Terrestrial; so. Give me thy hand, Celestial; so.-Boys of Art, I have deceiv'd you both: I have directed you to wrong places. Your hearts are mighty, your skins are whole, and let burn'd sack be the issue. Come, lay their swords to pawn. Follow me, Lads of Peace; follow, follow, follow. SHAL. Trust me, a mad host! Follow, gentlemen,


SLEN. [aside.] O, sweet Anne Page!

[Exeunt SHAL., SLEN., PAGE, and Host. CAIUS. Ha! do I perceive dat? have you make-a de sot of us, ha, ha?

EVANS. This is well: he has made us his vlouting-stog.

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SCENE II. 4 Street in Windsor.

90 ACT III Sc. I




-I desire you, that we may be friends; and let us knog our prains together, to be revenge on this same scall, scurvy, cogging companion, the Host of the Garter. CAIUS. By gar, vit all my heart; he promise to bring me vere is Anne Page: by gar, he deceive me too. EVANS. Well, I will smite his noddles. Pray you, follow. hood vent mat de [exeunt.

sir rebolela bird.-


Slut Wher



MRS. PAGE. Nay, keep your way, little gallant: you were wont to be a follower, but now you are a leader. Whether had you rather lead mine eyes, or eye your master's heels? 950 YRA Sat


ROB. I had rather, forsooth, go before you like a man


than follow him like a dwarf.

MRS. PAGE. O, you are a flattering boy! Now, I see you'll be a courtier.

trening whic 1 scall'd scabb'd.


Sc. II

Enter FORD.

FORD. Well met, Mistress Page. Whither go you?
MRS. PAGE. Truly, Sir, to see your wife. Is she at


FORD. Ay, and as idle as she may hang together, for want
company. I think, if your husbands were dead, you
two would marry.

MRS. PAGE. Be sure of that-two other husbands.

FORD. Where had you this pretty weather-cock?
MRS. PAGE. I cannot tell what the dickens his name is

my husband had him of. What do you call your
Knight's name, sirrah?

ROB. Sir John Falstaff.

1 yards.


FORD. Sir John Falstaff!

MRS. PAGE. He, he: I can never hit on's name.


is such a league between my goodman and he! - Is your wife at home, indeed?

FORD. Indeed she is.


MRS. PAGE. By your leave, Sir! I am sick, till I see [Exeunt MRS. PAGE and ROBIN. FORD. Has Page any brains? hath he any eyes? hath he any thinking? Sure, they sleep; he hath no use of them. Why, this boy will carry a letter twenty mile as easy as a cannon will shoot point-blank twelve score.1 He pieces-out his wife's inclination; he gives her folly motion and advantage; and now she's going to my wife, and Falstaff's boy with her. A man may hear this shower sing in the wind!-And Falstaff's boy with her! Good plots!-They are laid; and our revolted wives share damnation together. Well: I will take him; then torture my wife, pluck the borrow'd veil of modesty from the so-seeming Mistress Page, divulge Page himself for a secure and wilful Actæon; and to these violent proceedings all my neighbours shall cry aim. The clock gives me my cue, and my assurance bids me search: there I shall find Falstaff. I shall be rather prais'd for this than mock'd; for it is as positive as the earth is firm that Falstaff is there: I will go.

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