Quick. Well, thereby hangs a tale ;-good faith, it is such another Nan;-but, I detest, an honest 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 allicholly and musing: But for you--Well, 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 I? i' faith, that we will: and I will tell your worship more of the wart the next time we have confidence ; and of other wooers.

[Exit.

Fent. Well, farewell; I am in great haste now. Quick. Farewell to your worship.-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.

Act Second.

SCENE I. BEFORE PAGE'S HOUSE.

Enter Mistress Page with a letter.

Mrs P. What! have I 'scaped love-letters in the holy-day 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 precisian, 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 a soldier can suffice), that I love thee. I will not say, pity me, 'tis not a soldierlike phrase; but I say, love me. By me,

O wicked, wicked world!--one that is well nigh worn to pieces with age, to show himself a young gallant! What unweighed behaviour hath this Flemish drunkard picked 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.-Why, I'll exhibit a bill in the parliament for the putting down of men. How shall I be revenged on him? for revenged I will be.

Enter Mistress Ford.

Mrs Ford. Mrs Page! trust me, I was going to your house. Mrs P. 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, I could be knighted.

Mrs Page. What?-Sir Alice Ford!

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 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 him, ashore at Windsor? How shall I be revenged on him? I think, the best way were to entertain him with hope, till the wicked fire have melted him.-Did you ever hear the like?

Mrs P. Letter for letter; but that the name of Page and Ford differs! To thy great comfort in this mystery of ill opinions, here's the twin-brother of thy letter: but let thine inherit first; for, I protest, mine never shall. I warrant he hath a thousand of these letters writ with blank space for different names (sure more), and these are of the second edition: He will print them out of doubt. Mrs Ford. Why this is the very same; the very hand, the very words: What doth he think of us?

Mrs Page. Nay, I know not: it makes me almost ready to wrangle with mine own honesty. I'll entertain myself like one that I am not acquainted withal; for, sure, unless he know some strain in me, that I know not myself, he would never have boarded me in this fury. Let's be revenged on him; let's appoint him a meeting; give him a show of comfort in his suit and lead him on with a fine-baited delay, till he hath pawn'd his horses to mine host of the Garter.

Mrs Ford. Nay, I will consent to act any villainy against him, that may not sully the chariness1 of our honesty. O, that my husband saw this letter! it would give eternal food to his jealousy.

Mrs Page. Why, look where he comes; and my good man too: he's as far from jealousy, as I am from giving him cause; and that, I hope, is an unmeasurable distance.

Mrs Ford. You are the happier woman.

Mrs Page. Let's consult together against this greasy knight: Come hither. [They retire.

Enter Ford, Pistol, Page, and Nym.

Ford. Well, I hope it be not so.

Pist. Hope is a curtail dog in some affairs:

Sir John affects thy wife.

Ford. Why, sir, my wife is not young.

1 Scrupulousness.

2 That misses his game.

Pist. He wooes both high and low, both rich and poor,
Both young and old, one with another, Ford;
He loves thy gally-mawfry1; Ford, perpend."
Ford. Love my wife?

Pist. With liver burning hot: Prevent, or go thou
Like Sir Actæon he, with Ring-wood at thy heels:
O, odious is the name!

Ford. What name, sir?

Pist. The horn, I say: Farewell.

Take heed; have open eye; for thieves do foot by night:
Take heed, ere summer comes, or cuckoo-birds do sing. —
Away, sir corporal Nym.-

Believe it, Page; he speaks sense.

Ford. I will be patient; I will find out this.

[Exit Pistol.

Nym. And this is true. [To Page] I like not the humour of lying. He hath wronged me in some humours; I should have borne the humoured letter to her: but I have a sword, and it shall bite upon my necessity. He loves your wife; there's the short and the long. My name is corporal Nym; I speak and I avouch. "Tis true:-my name is Nym, and Falstaff loves your wife, Adieu! I love not the humour of bread and cheese; and there's the humour of it. [Exit Nym. Page. The humour of it, quoth 'a! here's a fellow frights humour out of his wits.

Adieu.

Ford. I will seek out Falstaff.

Page. I never heard such a drawling, affecting rogue.

Ford. If I do find it, well.

3

Page. I will not believe such a Cataian, tho' the priest o' the town commended him for a true man.

Ford. "Twas a good sensible fellow: Well.

Page. How now, Meg?

Mrs Page. Whither go you, George?-Hark you.

Mrs Ford. How now, sweet Frank? why art thou melancholy? Ford. I melancholy? I am not melancholy,-Get you home,go. Mrs Ford. Thou hast some crotchets in thy head now.Will you go, mistress Page?

Mrs Page. Have with you.-You'll come to dinner, George? -Look, who comes yonder: she shall be our messenger to this paltry knight. [Aside to Mrs Ford.

Enter Mrs Quickly.

Mrs Ford. Trust me, I thought on her: she'll fit it. Mrs Page. You are come to see my daughter Anne? Quick. Ay, forsooth; and, I pray, how does good mistress Anne? Mrs Page. Go in with us, and see; we have an hour's talk with you. [Exeunt Mrs Page, Mrs Ford, and Mrs Quickly. Page. How now, master Ford?

Ford. You heard what this knave told me; did you not?
Page. Yes; and you heard what the other told me?

Ford. Do you think there is truth in them?

Page. Hang 'em, slaves; I do not think the knight would offer it but these that accuse him in his intent towards our wives, are a yoke of his discarded men; very rogues, now they be out of service.

1 Hodge-podge.

2 Consider.

3 A lying sharper.

Ford. Were they his men?

Page. Marry, were they.

Ford. I like it never the better for that.-Does he lie at the Garter?

Page. Ay, marry, does he. If he should intend this voyage towards my wife, I would turn her loose to him; and what he gets more of her than sharp words, let it lie on my head.

Ford. I do not misdoubt my wife; but I would be loth to turn them together: A man may be too confident: I would have nothing lie on my head: I cannot be thus satisfied.

Page. Look, where my ranting host of the Garter comes: there is either liquor in his pate, or money in his purse, when he looks so merrily.-How now, mine host?

Enter Host and Shallow.

Host. How now, bully-rook? thou 'rt a gentleman: cavalerojustice, I say.

Shal. I follow, mine host, I follow.-Good even and twenty, good master Page! master Page, will you go with us? we have sport in hand.

Host. Tell him, cavalero-justice; tell him, bully-rook.

Shal. Sir, there is a fray to be fought between Sir Hugh the Welsh priest, and Caius the French doctor.

Ford. Good mine host of the Garter, a word with you.
Host. What say'st thou, bully-rook?

[They go aside.

Shal. Will you [to Page] go with us to behold it? my merry host hath had the measuring of their weapons; and, I think, he hath appointed them contrary places: for, believe me, I hear the parson is no jester. Hark, I will tell you what our sport shall be.

Host. Hast thou no suit against my knight, my guest-cavalier? Ford. None, I protest: but I'll give you a pottle of burnt sack to give me recourse to him, and tell him my name is Brook; only for a jest.

Host. My hand, bully: thou shalt have egress and regress; said I well? and thy name shall be Brook: It is a merry night. -Will you go on, hearts?

Shal. Have with you, mine host.

Page. I have heard the Frenchman hath good skill in his rapier, Shal. Tut, sir, I could have told you more! In these times you stand on distance, your passes, stoccadoes, and I know not what 'tis the heart, master Page; 'tis here, 'tis here. I have seen the time, with my long sword, I would have made you four tall fellows skip like rats.

Host. Here, boys, here, here! shall we wag?

Page. Have with you ---I had rather hear them scold than fight. [Exeunt Host, Shallow, and Page. Ford. Though Page be a secure fool, and stands so firmly on his wife's frailty, yet I cannot put off my opinion so easily: she was in his company at Page's house; and, what they made there, I know not. Well, I will look further into 't: and I have a disguise to sound Falstaff: If I find her honest, I lose not my labour; if she be otherwise, 'tis labour well bestowed. [Exit.

SCENE II.-A ROOM IN THE GARTER INN.

Enter Falstaff and Pistol.

Fal. I will not lend thee a penny.

Pist. Why then the world's mine oyster, Which I with sword will open.

I will retort the sum in equipage.1

Fal. Not a penny. I have been content, sir, you should lay my countenance to pawn; I have grated upon my good friends for three reprieves for you and your coach-fellow Nym; or else you had looked through the grate like a geminy of baboons. I am disgraced for swearing to gentlemen my friends, you were good soldiers, and tall fellows: and when mistress Bridget lost the handle of her fan, I took't upon mine honour, thou hadst it not. Pist. Didst thou not share? hadst thou not fifteen pence? Fal. Reason, you rogue, reason: Think'st thou, I'll endanger my soul gratis? At a word, hang no more about me, I am no gibbet for you:-go.-A short knife and a throng:-to your manor of Pickt-hatch,3 go.-You'll not bear a letter for me, you rogue-you stand upon your honour!-Why, thou unconfinable baseness, it is as much as I can do, to keep the terms of my honour precise. I, I, I myself sometimes, leaving the fear of heaven on the left hand, and hiding mine honour in my necessity, am fain to shuffle, to hedge, and to lurch; and yet you, rogue, will ensconce your rags, your cat-a-mountain looks, your red-lattice phrases, and your bold-beating oaths, under the shelter of your honour! You will not do it, you? Pist. I do relent: what would'st thou more of man?

Enter Robin.

Rob. Sir, here's a woman would speak with you.
Fal. Let her approach.

Enter Mrs Quickly.

Quick. Give your worship good-morrow.

Fal. Good-morrow, goodwife. What with me?

Quick. Shall I vouchsafe your worship a word or two?

Fal. Two thousand, fair woman; and I'll vouchsafe thee the hearing.

Quick. There is one mistress Ford, sir;-I pray, come a little nearer this ways;-I myself dwell with master doctor Caius. Fal. Well, on: Mistress Ford you say,

Quick. Your worship says very true: I pray your worship, come a little nearer this ways.

Fal. I warrant thee, nobody hears ;-mine own people, mine own people.

Quick. Are they so? Heaven bless them, and make them his servants!

Fal. Well: Mistress Ford :-what of her?

Quick. Why, sir, she's a good creature; but your_worship's a wanton: Well, heaven forgive you, and all of us, I pray ! Fal. Mistress Ford;-come, mistress Ford,

Quick. Marry, this is the short and the long of it; you have

1 Stolen goods.

2 Couple.

3 In Clerkenwell.

4 Ale-house.