Caius. Sir Hugh send-a you? Rugby, baille me some paper. Tarry you a little-a while. [Writes.

Quick. [Aside to Simple] I am glad he is so quiet: if he had been throughly moved, you should have heard him so loud and so melancholy. But notwithstanding, man, I'll do you your master what good I can: and the very yea and the no is, the French doctor, my master,-I may call him my master, look you, for I keep 100 his house: and I wash, wring, brew, bake, scour, dress meat and drink, make the beds, and do all myself,

Sim. [Aside to Quickly] 'Tis a great charge to come under one body's hand.

Quick. [Aside to Simple] Are you avised o' that? you shall find it a great charge: and to be up early and down late; but notwithstanding, to tell you in your ear; I would have no words of it, my master himself is in love with Mistress TIO Anne Page: but notwithstanding that, I know Anne's mind, that's neither here nor there.

Caius. You jack'nape, give-a this letter to Sir Hugh; by gar, it is a shallenge: I will cut his troat in de park; and I will teach a scurvy jack-anape priest to meddle or make. You may be gone; it is not good you tarry here. By gar, I will cut all his two stones; by gar, he shall not have a stone to throw at his dog. (Exit Simple. Quick. Alas, he speaks but for his friend. Caius. It is no matter-a ver dat: do not you tell-a me dat I shall have Anne Page for myself? By gar, I vill kill de Jack priest; and I have appointed mine host of de Jarteer to measure our weapon. By gar, I will myself have Anne Page.

120

Quick. Sir, the maid loves you, and all shall be well. We must give folks leave to prate: what, the good-jer !

Caius. Rugby, come to the court with me. 130 By gar, if I have not Anne Page, I shall turn your head out of my door. Follow my heels, [Exeunt Caius and Rugby.

Rugby.

Quick. You shall have An fool's-head of your own. No, I know Anne's mind for that: never a woman in Windsor knows more of Anne's mind than I do; nor can do more than I do with her, I thank heaven.

Fent. [Within] Who's within there? ho! Quick. Who's there, I trow! Come near the 140 house, I pray you.

Enter FENTON.

Fent. How now, good woman! how dost thou?

Quick. The better that it pleases your good worship to ask.

Fent. What news? how does pretty Mistress Anne?

Quick. In truth, sir, and she is pretty, and honest, and gentle; and one that is your friend, I can tell you that by the way; I praise heaven 150 for it.

Fent. Shall I do any good, thinkest thou? shall I not lose my suit?

Quick. Troth, sir, all is in his hands above : but notwithstanding, Master Fenton, I'll be sworn on a book, she loves you. Have not your worship a wart above your eye?

Fent. Yes, marry, have I; what of that?

129. good-jer, a corrupt form of French goujère, a disease ; used as a mild oath.

Quick. Well, thereby hangs a tale: good faith, it is such another Nan; but, I detest, an honest 160 maid as ever broke bread: we had an hour's talk of that wart. I shall never laugh but in that maid's company! But indeed she is given too much to allicholy and musing: but for youwell, go to.

Fent. Well, I shall see her to-day. Hold, there's money for thee; let me have thy voice in my behalf: if thou seest her before me, commend me.

Quick. Will IP i' faith, that we will; and I 170 will tell your worship more of the wart the next time we have confidence; and of other

wooers.

Fent. Well, farewell; I am in great haste

now.

Quick. Farewell to your worship. [Exit Fenton.] Truly, an honest gentleman : but Anne loves him not; for I know Anne's mind as well as another does. Out upon't! what have I forgot?

[Exit. 180

ACT II.

SCENE I. Before PAGE's house.

Enter MISTRESS PAGE, with a letter.

Mrs. Page. What, have I scaped love-letters in the holiday-time of my beauty, and am I now a subject for them? Let me see.

[Reads.

Ask me no reason why I love you; for though Love use Reason for his physician, he admits him not for his counsellor. You are not young, no more am I; go to then, there's sympathy: you are merry, so am I; ha, ha! then there's more sympathy: you love sack, and so do I; would you desire better sympathy? Let it suffice thee, Mistress Page, at the least, if the love of soldier can suffice, that I love thee. I will not say, pity me; 'tis not a soldier-like phrase: but I say, love me. By me,

10

Thine own true knight,

By day or night,
Or any kind of light,
With all his might
For thee to fight,
What a Herod of Jewry is
wicked world!

this!

20

JOHN FALSTAFF.' O wicked, One that is well-nigh worn to pieces with age to show himself a young gallant ! What an unweighed behaviour hath this Flemish drunkard picked-with the devil's name!-out of my conversation, that he dares in this manner assay me? Why, he hath not been thrice in my company! What should I say to him? I was then frugal of my mirth: Heaven forgive me! Why, I'll exhibit a bill in the parliament for the putting down of men. How shall I be re- 30 venged on him? for revenged I will be, as sure as his guts are made of puddings.

Enter MISTRESS FORD.

Mrs. Ford. Mistress Page! trust me, I was going to your house.

Mrs. Page. And, trust me, I was coming to you. You look very ill.

Mrs. Ford. Nay, I'll ne'er believe that; I have to show to the contrary.

Mrs. Page. Faith, but you do, in my mind. Mrs. Ford. Well, I do then; yet I say I could show you to the contrary. O Mistress Page, give me some counsel !

Mrs. Page. What's the matter, woman? Mrs. Ford. O woman, if it were not for one trifling respect, I could come to such honour! Mrs. Page. Hang the trifle, woman! take the honour. What is it? dispense with trifles ; what is it?

Mrs. Ford. If I would but go to hell for an eternal moment or so, I could be knighted.

Mrs. Page. What? thou liest! Sir Alice Ford! These knights will hack; and so thou shouldst not alter the article of thy gentry.

40

50

Mrs. Ford. We burn daylight: here, read, read; perceive how I might be knighted. I shall think the worse of fat men, as long as I have an eye to make difference of men's liking: and yet he would not swear; praised women's modesty; and gave such orderly and well-behaved reproof to all uncomeliness, that I would have sworn his 60 disposition would have gone to the truth of his words; but they do no more adhere and keep place together than the Hundredth Psalm to the tune of 'Green Sleeves.' What tempest, I trow, threw this whale, with so many tuns of oil in his belly, ashore at Windsor? How shall I be