Pro. Neither. Duke. Why, then She's fled unto that peasant Valentine, 'Tis true; for Friar Laurence met them both, [not. [Exit. Pro. And I will follow, more for Silvia's love, Than hate of Eglamour, that goes with her. [Exit. Jul. And I will follow, more to cross that love, Than hate for Silvia, that is gone for love. [Exit. SCENE III.-The Forest. Enter SILVIA and Outlaws. 1 Out. Come, come; be patient, we must bring you to our Captain. Sil. A thousand more mischances than this one Have learn'd me how to brook this patiently. 2 Out. Come, bring her away. [her? 1 Out. Where is the gentleman that was with 3 Out. Being nimble-footed, he hath outrun us; But Moses, and Valerius, follow him. Go thou with her to the west end of the wood; There is our Captain. We'll follow him that's fled: The thicket is beset; he cannot 'scape. 1 Out. Come, I must bring you to our Captain's cave. Fear not; he bears an honourable mind, Sil. O Valentine! this I endure for thee. [Exeunt. SCENE IV.-Another Part of the Forest. Enter VALENTINE. Val. How use doth breed a habit in a man! These shadowy desert unfrequented woods, I better brook than flourishing peopled towns. Here can I sit alone, unseen of any, And to the nightingale's complaining notes Tune my distresses, and record my woes. O thou that dost inhabit in my breast, Leave not the mansion so long tenantless, Lest, growing ruinous, the building fall, And leave no memory of what it was! Repair me with thy presence, Silvia! Thou gentle nymph, cherish thy forlorn swain! What halloing and what stir is this to-day? 'Tis sure my mates, that make their wills their law, Have some unhappy passenger in chase. They love me well; yet I have much to do, To keep them from uncivil outrages. Withdraw thee, Valentine: who's this comes here? [Steps aside. Enter PROTEUS, SILVIA, and JULIA. Pro. Madam, this service I have done for you, (Though you respect not aught your servant To hazard life, and rescue you from him, [doth) That would have forc'd your honour and your love. Vouchsafe me, for my meed, but one fair look; Sil. O miserable, unhappy that I am! Pro. What dangerous action, stood it next to Would I not undergo for one calm look! O! 'tis the curse in love, and still approv'd, When women cannot love, where they're belov'd. Sil. When Proteus cannot love, where he's beRead over Julia's heart, thy first best love, [lov'd. For whose dear sake thou didst then rend thy Into a thousand oaths; and all those oaths [faith Descended into perjury to love me. Thou hast no faith left now, unless thou'dst two; And that's far worse than none: better have none In love Than plural faith, which is too much by one. [you. I'll force thee yield to my desire. Val. Ruffian, let go that rude uncivil touch; Thou friend of an ill fashion! Pro. Valentine! Val. Thou common friend, that's without faith or love; (For such is a friend now) treacherous man! [eye Thou hast beguil'd my hopes: naught but mine Could have persuaded me. Now I dare not say, I have one friend alive: thou would'st disprove [hand me. Who should be trusted, when one's [own] right Is perjur'd to the bosom? Proteus, I am sorry I must never trust thee more, I tender 't here: I do as truly suffer, By penitence th' Eternal's wrath's appeas'd: Pro. Look to the boy. Val. Why, boy! why, wag! how now! what's the matter? Look up; speak. Jul. O good sir! my master charg'd me to deliver a ring to Madam Silvia, which, out of my neglect, was never done. Pro. Where is that ring, boy? Val. Thurio, give back, or else embrace thy Pro. How! let me see.-Why, this is The ring I gave to Julia. Jul. Ŏ! cry your mercy, sir; I have mistook: This is the ring you sent to Silvia. Pro. But, how cam'st thou by this ring? At my depart I gave this unto Julia. Jul. And Julia herself did give it me; Jul. Behold her that gave aim to all thy oaths, It is the lesser blot, modesty finds, Women to change their shapes, than men their Pro. Than men their minds: 'tis true. O Enter Outlaws, with DUKE and THURIO. Duke. me happy. I now beseech you, for your daughter's sake, Duke. I grant it for thine own, whate'er it be. and thee: Dispose of them, as thou know'st their deserts. Val. And as we walk along, I dare be bold [Exeunt. INTRODUCTION TO THE MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. The Merry Wives of Windsor, according to a traditionary tale which has been preserved by Rowe, and credited by most of Shakespeare's commentators, owes its origin to Queen Elizabeth; who, being much pleased with the admirable character of Falstaff, as delineated in the two parts of Henry the Fourth, commanded our author to continue it for one play more, and to exhibit the Knight in love. The power of this play-that power by which all works of genius shall finally be tried-is such, that perhaps it never yet had reader or spectator who did not think it too soon at an end. The precise time at which it had its birth, like many others of the inimitable Shakespeare, is not determined. Steevens says "It was first entered at Stationers' Hall, Jan. 18, 1601, by John Busby;" and Gildon observes, in his Remarks, but which Theobald seems to doubt, "he was very well assured that Shakespeare wrote it in a fortnight." However this may be, The Merry Wives of Windsor was plainly produced by Shakespeare as a local comedy of contemporary manners: the allusions, as well as the general cast and air of the piece, show this to the close examiner as well as to the superficial reader: certain charactersthe Host for instance-have the expression of portraits; and the traditions of Windsor, which point out the place where stood the Garter Inn and the houses of Page and Ford, seem hardly to be the fruit of mere wanton fabrication. This being the case, the reader of The Merry Wives of Windsor must take it as its hero would have his sack-"simply, of itself;" isolating it entirely from the historical plays, between which and it there is really a gulf of two hundred years, and giving himself up without a question to the enjoyment of its humour, its whimsical characters, and skilfully constructed plot. The merit of this plot is Shakespeare's own. Two Italian stories have been discovered, be- | tween which and The Merry Wives of Windsor there is as much, or as little, similarity as results from the existence in one of them of a husband who learns his wife's dishonour and the manner in which he was deceived, from the man who wronged him, and in the other of a like revelation on the part of a successful intriguer whom his mistress concealed from her husband under a heap of clothes from the wash. Both these tales are from Le Tredeci Piacevoli Notti of Strapola, and they are printed by Mr. Halliwell in the Appendix to his reprint of the first quarto of this play, published by the Shakespeare Society. With them, and also in Malone's edition and Collier's Shakespeare's Library, is printed the tale of The Two Lovers of Pisa from Tarlton's Newes out of Purgatorie, published at London in 1590, which is founded upon the second of the two Italian tales, but in which the incidents are modified to a much greater likeness to those of the affair between Falstaff and Mrs. Ford. The lover makes three bootless appointments, at each of which he is interrupted by the husband, and from one of which he is carried away in a chest of papers by the order of the husband himself, to whom, not knowing his relation to the lady, he recounts all his misadventures. But although there can hardly be a doubt that Shakespeare had hints from this story, the development and nice conduct of the plot of The Merry Wives of Windsor, and the skilful interweaving of the affairs of Shallow, and Slender, and Dr. Caius, and Fenton with those of the principal personages, so as to make the interest single although the action is various, are entirely Shakespeare's own. THE PLOT.-Faistaff and his fellows have taken some unwarrantable license with Justice Shallow; discussing which, himself, Slender his nephew, and Sir Hugh Evans, enter Page's house. After rehearsing the above in the presence of Falstaff, he departs, and Page agrees to marry his daughter, at the instance of Shallow, to his nephew. In the meantime, Mrs. Page promises the like to Dr. Caius, a testy Frenchman, who is past his hey-day of life: but the daughter, liking neither, entertains an affection for Fenton, a gay young man, who is rejected by the father. Falstaff makes love to Mrs. Page and Mrs. Ford, who discover that he has written to both in precisely the same terms, and resolve to put a trick upon him. In the interim, Nym and Pistol, two fellows discharged by Falstaff, in revenge communicate the intrigue to Ford; who, becoming jealous, introduces himself to Falstaff under the assumed name of Brook, in order to ascertain his wife's disloyalty; and, pretending to have a passion for her, offers Sir John money to procure him her company. Ford's wife, with the connivance of Mrs. Page, makes two assignations with Falstaff, at her own house, which he communicates to Brook, who, believing himself dishonoured, hurries home with a mob at his heels. Falstaff escapes from the house in a basket, but is afterwards soused in the Thames, the first time; and in the second, he is beaten by Ford, who mistakes him for an old witch he has forbid his house, in whose dress Falstaff is disguised. Mrs. Ford and Mrs. Page develop the whole plot to their husbands, and propose a third remedy to cure Sir John's lechery. Falstaffaccepts the assignation, and promises to meet them at midnight, in the park, under Herne's Oak, disguised with a pair of buck's horns on his head. Elves and fairies are prepared to attack, and suddenly pinch and burn him. Sir Hugh is to be chief of the first, and sweet Anne Page is to head the latter; with whom Slender, Dr. Caius, and Fenton, are each, in the midst of the frolic, to elope. The first by desire of the father, the second at the connivance of the mother, and the third by her own consent. She names a different dress and pass-word to each; and Fenton, with the assistance of mine host of the Garter, procures two post-boys, who are disguised in dresses answering to those by which she is to be known by Slender and the Doctor. The hour arrives; Falstaff is bedevilled; Slender and Caius run off with the two post-boys, and Fenton with sweet Anne Page, to whom he is married, by a clergyman procured by mine host for the occasion; and, finally, after some slight recrimination, Falstaff is invited with the rest to celebrate their nuptials. MORAL. In this comedy, by a train of exquisite ridicule, Shakespeare has exhibited the pride of gallantry in old men; and folly of parents, in wishing to connect their children with ignorance and age, from motives of interest. Merry Wives of Windsor. born, Master Parson; who writes himself, armigero; in any bill, warrant, quittance, or obligation-armigero. Shal. Ay, that I do; and have done any time these three hundred years. Slen. All his successors, gone before him, hath done't; and all his ancestors, that come after him, may: they may give the dozen white luces in their Shal. It is an old coat. [coat. Eva. The dozen white louses do become an old coat well it agrees well, passant: it is a familiar beast to man, and signifies 'love.' [an old coat. Shal. The luce is the fresh fish: the salt fish is Slen. I may quarter, coz? Shal. You may, by marrying. Eva. It is marring, indeed, if he quarter it. Shal. Not a whit. Eva. Yes, py'r lady: if he has a quarter of your coat, there is but three skirts for yourself, in my simple conjectures: but that is all one. If Sir John Falstaff have committed disparagements unto you, I am of the Church, and will pe glad to do my penevolence, to make atonements and compremises between you. Shal. The Council shall hear it: it is a riot. Eva. It is not meet the Council hear a riot: there is no fear of Got in a riot. The Council, look you, shall desire to hear the fear of Got, and not to hear a riot: take your vizaments in that. Shal. Ha! o' my life, if I were young again, the sword should end it. Eva. It is petter that friends is the sword, and end it: and there is also another device in my prain, which, peradventure, prings goot discretions with it. There is Anne Page, which is daughter to Master George Page, which is pretty virginity. Slen. Mistress Anne Page? She has brown hair, and speaks small, like a woman. Eva. It is that ferry person for all the orld, as just as you will desire; and seven hundred pounds of monies, and gold, and silver, is her grandsire, upon his death's-bed, give, when she is able to overtake seventeen years old. It were a goot notion, if we leave our pribbles and prabbles, and desire a marriage between Master Abraham and Mistress Anne Page. Shal. Did her grandsire leave her seven hundred pound. [penny. Eva. Ay, and her father is make her a petter Shal. I know the young gentlewoman; she has good gifts. [is good gifts. Eva. Seven hundred pounds, and possibilities, Shal. Well, let us see honest Master Page. Is Falstaff there? Eva. Shall I tell you a lie? I do despise a liar, as I do despise one that is false, or as I despise one that is not true. The knight, Sir John, is there; and, I beseech you, be ruled by your well-willers. I will peat the door for Master Page. [Knocks.] What, hoa! pless your house here! PAGE appears at a window. Page. Who's there? Mistress Page?-and I thank you always with my heart-la-with my heart. Page. Sir, I thank you. Shal. Sir, I thank you; by yea and no, I do. Page. I am glad to see you, good Master Slender. Slen. How does your fallow greyhound, sir? I heard say, he was outrun on Cotsall. Page. It could not be judg'd, sir. Slen. You'll not confess, you'll not confess. Shal. That he will not;-'tis your fault, 'tis your fault.-'Tis a good dog. Page. A cur, sir. Shal. Sir, he's a good dog, and a fair dog; can there be more said? he is good, and fair. Is Sir John Falstaff here? Page. Sir, he is within; and I would I could do a good office between you. Eva. It is spoke as a christians ought to speak. Shal. He hath wrong'd me, Master Page. Page. Sir, he doth in some sort confess it. Shal. If it be confessed, it is not redressed: is not that so, Master Page? He hath wrong'd me; indeed, he hath ;-at a word, he hath ;-believe me:-Robert Shallow, Esquire, saith, he is wronged. Page. Here comes Sir John. Enter Sir JOHN FALSTAFF, BARDOLPH, NYM, and PISTOL. Fal. Now, Master Shallow,-you'll complain of me to the King! Shal. Knight, you have beaten my men, kill'd my deer, and broke open my lodge. This shall be answer'd. Fal. I will answer it straight:-I have done all this.-That is now answer'd. Shal. The Council shall know this. Fal. "Twere better for you, if it were known in counsel you'll be laugh'd at. Eva. Pauca verba, Sir John; goot worts. Fal. Good worts? good cabbage !-Slender, I broke your head; what matter have you against me? Slen. Marry, sir, I have matter in my head against you, and against Bardolph, Nym, and Pistol. [They carried me to the tavern, and made me drunk, and afterwards pick'd my pocket.] Bard. You Banbury cheese! Slen. Ay, it is no matter. Pist. How now, Mephostophilus? Slen. Ay, it is no matter. [my humour. Nym. Slice, I say! pauca, pauca: slice! that's Slen. Where's Simple, my man?-can you tell, cousin? Eva. Peace! I pray you. Now let us understand: there is three umpires in this matter, as I understand; that is-Master Page, fidelicet, Master Page; and there is myself, fidelicet, myself; and the three party is, lastly and finally, mine Host of the Garter. [tween them. Page. We three, to hear it, and end it beEva. Ferry goot: I will make a prief of it in my note-book; and we will afterwards 'ork upon the cause, with as great discreetly as we can. Fal. Pistol! Pist. He hears with ears. Eva. What phrase is this? "He hears with ear?" Why, it is affectations. Fal. Pistol, did you pick Master Slender's purse? Slen. Ay, by these gloves, did he, (or I would I might never come in mine own great chamber again, else) of seven groats in mill-sixpences, and two Edward shovel-boards, that cost me two shilling and two pence a-piece of Yead Miller, by these gloves. Fal. Is this true, Pistol? Eva. No; it is false, if it is a pick-purse. I combat challenge of this latten bilbo : Slen. By this hat, then he in the red face had it; for though I cannot remember what I did when you made me drunk, yet I am not altogether an ass. Fal. What say you, Scarlet and John? Bard. Why, sir, for my part, I say, the gentleman had drunk himself out of his five sentences. Eva. It is his five senses: fie, what the ignorance is! Bard. And being fap, sir, was, as they say, cashier'd and so conclusions pass'd the careires. Slen. Ay, you spake in Latin then too; but 'tis no matter. I'll ne'er be drunk whilst I live again, but in honest, civil, godly company, for this trick: if I be drunk, I'll be drunk with those that have the fear of God, and not with drunken knaves. Eva. That is a virtuous mind. Fal. You hear all these matters deni'd, gentlemen; you hear it. Enter Mistress ANNE PAGE, with Wine; Mistress FORD and Mistress PAGE following. Page. Nay, daughter, carry the wine in; we'll drink within. [Exit ANNE PAGE. Slen. O Heaven! this is Mistress Anne Page. Page. How now, Mistress Ford! Fal. Mistress Ford, by my troth, you are very well met by your leave, good mistress. [Kissing her. Page. Wife, bid these gentlemen welcome.-Come, we have a hot venison pasty to dinner: come, gentlemen, I hope we shall drink down all unkindness. [Exeunt all but SHAL., SLENDER, and EVANS. "Slen. I had rather than forty shillings, I had mv book of Songs and Sonnets here: Enter SIMPLe. I How now, Simple! Where have you been? must wait on myself, must I? You have not The Book of Riddles about you, have you? Simple. Book of Riddles! why, did you not lend it to Alice Shortcake upon Allhallowmas last, a fortnight afore Michaelmas ? Shal. Come, coz; come, coz; we stay for you. A word with you, coz: marry, this, coz there is, as 'twere, a tender, a kind of tender, made afar off by Sir Hugh here: do you understand me? Slen. Ay, sir, you shall find me reasonable: if it be so, I shall do that that is reason. Shal. Nay, but understand me. Eva. Give ear to his motions, Master Slender. I will description the matter to you, if you be capacity of it. Slen. Nay, I will do as my cousin Shallow says. I pray you, pardon me; he's a justice of peace in his country, simple though I stand here. Eva. But this is not the question: the question is concerning your marriage. Shal. Ay, there's the point, sir. Slen. Why, if it be so, I will marry her upon any reasonable demands. Eva. But can you affection the 'oman? Let us command to know that of your mouth, or of your lips;-for divers philosophers hold, that the lips is parcel of the mouth: therefore, precisely, can you carry your good will to the maid? [her? Shal. Cousin Abraham Slender, can you love Slen. I hope, sir, I will do as it shall become one that would to reason. Era. Nay, but you must speak possitable, if you can carry her your desires towards her. Shal. That you must. Will you, upon good dowry, marry her? Slen. I will do a greater thing than that, upon your request, cousin, in any reason. Shal. Nay, conceive me, conceive me, sweet coz: what I do, is to pleasure you, coz: can you love the maid? Slen. I will marry her, sir, at your request; but if there be no great love in the beginning, yet Heaven may decrease it upon better acquaintance, when we are married, and have more occasion to know one another: I hope, upon familiarity will grow more contempt: but if you say, marry her, I will marry her; that I am freely dissolved, and dissolutely. Eva. It is a ferry discretion answer; save, the fall is in the 'ort dissolutely: the 'ort is, according to our meaning, resolutely.-His meaning is goot. Shal. Ay; I think my cousin meant well. Slen. Ay, or else I would I might be hang'd--la. Enter ANNE PAGE. Shal. Here comes fair Mistress Anne.-Would I were young, for your sake, Mistress Anne! Anne. The dinner is on the table; my father desires your worships' company. Shal. I will wait on him, fair Mistress Anne. Exeunt SHALLOW and Sir H. EVANS. Anne. Will't please your worship to come in, sir? Slen. No, I thank you, forsooth, heartily; I am very well. Anne. The dinner attends you, sir. Slen. I am not a-hungry, I thank you, forsooth. -Go, sirrah, for all you are my man, go, wait upon my cousin Shallow. [Exit SIMPLE.] A justice of peace sometime may be beholden to his friend for a man.-I keep but three men and a boy yet, till my mother be dead; but what though? yet I live like a poor gentleman born. Anne. I may not go in without your worship: they will not sit till you come. Slen. I'faith, I'll eat nothing; I thank you as much as though I did. Anne. I pray you, sir, walk in. Slen. I had rather walk here, I thank you. I bruis'd my shin the other day with playing at sword and dagger with a Master of Fence, (three veneys for a dish of stew'd prunes) and by my troth, I cannot abide the smell of hot meat since. Why do your dogs bark so? be there bears i' th' town? Anne. I think there are sir; I heard them talk'd of. Slen. I love the sport well; but I shall as soon quarrel at it as any man in England. You are afraid, if you see the bear loose, are you not? Anne. Ay, indeed, sir. Slen. That's meat and drink to me, now: I have seen Sackerson loose, twenty times, and bave taken him by the chain; but, I warrant you, the women have so cri'd and shrick'd at it, that it Eva. Marry, is it, the very point of it; to Mis-pass'd: but women, indeed, cannot abide 'em; tress Anne Page. they are very ill-favour'd rough things. |