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Mrs. Page. If you go out in your own semblance, you die, Sir John. Unless you go out disguised

Mrs. Ford. 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 hearts, devise something: any extremity rather than a mischief.

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

70

Mrs. Page. On my word, it will serve him ; she's as big as he is: and there's her thrummed 80 hat and her muffler too. Run up, Sir John.

Mrs. Ford. Go, go, sweet Sir John. Mistress Page and I will look some linen for your head. Mrs. Page. Quick, quick! we'll come dress you straight put on the gown the while.

[Exit Falstaff. Mrs. Ford. I would my husband would meet him in this shape: he cannot abide the old woman of Brentford; he swears she's a witch; forbade her my house and hath threatened to beat her. Mrs. Page. Heaven guide him to thy husband's 90 cudgel, and the devil guide his cudgel afterwards! Mrs. Ford. But is my husband coming? Mrs. Page. Ay, in good sadness, is he; and

77. the fat woman of Brentford; in Q 'Gillian of Brainford,' with a still more explicit allusion to a notorious character of the middle of the century, remembered by a gross jest recorded in Jyl of Brentford's Testament, by R. Copland.

80. thrummed hat, one made

of very coarse woollen cloth; the 'thrums' are the coarse ends of the warp, often several inches long, which cannot be

woven.

83. look, look for.

93. in good sadness, in all seriousness.

talks of the basket too, howsoever 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 dress him like the witch of Brentford.

Mrs. Ford. I'll first direct my men what they shall do with the basket. Go up; I'll bring linen for him straight. [Exit. Mrs. Page. Hang him, dishonest varlet! we cannot misuse him enough.

We'll leave a proof, by that which we will do,
Wives may be merry, and yet honest too :
We do not act, that often jest and laugh;
'Tis old, but true, Still swine eats all the draff.

[Exit.

Re-enter MISTRESS FORD with two Servants.

100

Mrs. Ford. Go, sirs, take the basket again on 110 your shoulders: your master is hard at door; if he bid you set it down, obey him: quickly, dispatch. [Exit.

First Serv. Come, come, take it up.

Sec. Serv. Pray heaven it be not full of knight again.

First Serv. I hope not; I had as lief bear so much lead.

Enter FORD, PAGE, SHALLOW, CAIUS, and
SIR HUGH EVANS.

Ford. Ay, but if it prove true, Master Page, have you any way then to unfool me again? 120 Set down the basket, villain! Somebody call

108. act, do in reality what we jestingly feign to do.

VOL. II

321

Y

O you pandarly

my wife. Youth in a basket!
rascals! there's a knot, a ging, a pack, a con-
spiracy against me: now shall the devil be shamed.
What, wife, I say! Come, come forth! Behold
what honest clothes you send forth to bleaching!
Page. Why, this passes, Master Ford; you
are not to go loose any longer; you must be
pinioned.

Evans. Why, this is lunatics! this is mad as 130 a mad dog!

Shal. Indeed, Master Ford, this is not well, indeed.

Ford. So say I too, sir.

Re-enter MISTRESS FORD.

Come hither, Mistress Ford; Mistress Ford, the honest woman, the modest wife, the virtuous creature, that hath the jealous fool to her husband! I suspect without cause, mistress, do I?

Mrs. Ford. Heaven be my witness you do, if you suspect me in any dishonesty.

Ford. Well said, brazen - face! hold it out. Come forth, sirrah!

[Pulling clothes out of the basket.

Page. This passes!

Mrs. Ford. Are you not ashamed? let the clothes alone.

Ford. I shall find you anon.

Evans. 'Tis unreasonable! Will you take up
your wife's clothes? Come away.
Ford. Empty the basket, I say!
Mrs. Ford. Why, man, why?
Ford. Master Page, as I am

140

150

a man, there

was one conveyed out of my house yesterday in

123. ging, gang.

127. passes, passes all bounds.

this basket: why may not he be there again? In my house I am sure he is: my intelligence is true; my jealousy is reasonable. Pluck me out

all the linen.

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, Master 160

Ford; this wrongs you.

Evans. Master Ford, you must pray, and not follow the imaginations of your own heart: this is jealousies.

Ford. Well, he's not hère I seek for.

Page. No, nor nowhere else but in your brain. Ford. Help to search my house this one time. If I find not what I seek, show no colour for my extremity; let me for ever be your tablesport; let them say of me, 'As jealous as Ford, 170 that searched a hollow walnut for his wife's leman.' Satisfy me once more; once more searchi with me.

Mrs. Ford. What, ho, 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 Brentford.

Ford. A witch, a quean, an old cozening 180 quean! Have I not forbid her my house? She comes of errands, does she? We are simple men; we do not know what's brought to pass under the profession of fortune-telling. She works by charms, by spells, by the figure, and such daubery as this is, beyond our element: we

168. show no colour for my extremity, offer no excuse for the extreme course I take.

know nothing. Come down, you witch, you hag, you; come down, I say!

Mrs. Ford. Nay, good, sweet husband! Good gentlemen, let him not strike the old woman.

Re-enter FALSTAFF in woman's clothes, and
MISTRESS PAGE.

Mrs. Page. Come, Mother Prat; come, give me your hand.

Ford. I'll prat her. [Beating him] Out of my door, you witch, you hag, you baggage, you polecat, you ronyon! out, out! I'll conjure you, I'll fortune-tell you. [Exit Falstaff. Mrs. Page. Are you not ashamed? I think

you have killed the poor woman.

Mrs. Ford. Nay, he will do it.

credit for you.

Ford. Hang her, witch!

190

'Tis a goodly

200

Evans. By yea and no, I think the 'oman is a witch indeed: I like not when a 'oman has

a great peard; I spy a muffler.

great peard under his

Ford. Will you follow, gentlemen ? I beseech you, follow; see but the issue of my jealousy if I cry out thus upon no trail, never trust me when I open again.

Page. Let's obey his humour a little further :* 210 come, gentlemen.

[Exeunt Ford, Page, Shal., Caius, and Evans. Mrs. Page. Trust me, he beat him most pitifully.

Mrs. Ford. Nay, by the mass, that he did not; he beat him most unpitifully, methought.

195. ronyon, a mangy creature.

209. open (technical term of

the chase), open cry.

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