Mrs. Ford. Go to then; we'll ufe this unwholfome humidity, this grofs watry pumpion--we'll teach him to know turtles from jays. SCENE VIII. Enter Falftaff. Fal. Have I caught thee, my heav'nly jewel? why, now let me die! for I have liv'd long enough: this is the period of my ambition: O this bleffed hour! Mrs. Ford. O fweet Sir John! Fal. Miftrefs Ford, I cannot cog; I cannot prate, miftrefs Ford. Now fhall I fin in my wifh; I would, thy husband were dead; I'll speak it before the best lord, I would make thee my lady. Mrs Ford. I your lady, Sir John? alas, I fhould be a pitiful lady. Fal. Let the Court of France fhew me fuch another; I fee how thine eye would emulate the diamond: thou haft the right arched bent of the brow, that becomes the fhip-tire, the tire-valiant, or any Venetian attire. Mrs. 8 that becomes the hiptire, the tire-VALIANT, or any Venetian attire.] The old Quarto reads, Tire-vellet, and the old Folio reads, Or any tire of Venetian admittance. So that the true reading of the whole is this, That becomes the ship-tire, the tireVALIANT, or any 'tire of Venetian admittance. The fpeaker tells his mistress, fhe had a face that would become all the headdreffes in fashion. The fhip-tire was an open head-drefs, with a kind of fcarf depending from behind. Its name of hip-tire was, I prefume, from its giving the wearer fome refemblance of a fhip (as Shakespeare fays) in all her trim: with all her pennants But who is this, what thing of Of Tarfus, bound for th' Ifles Sails fill'd, and fireamers wav- This Mrs. Ford. A plain kerchief, Sir John; my brows become nothing else, nor that well neither. Fal. Thou art a tyrant to fay fo; thou would'st make an abfolute Courtier; and the firm fixture of thy foot would give an excellent motion to thy gate, in a femi-circled farthingale. I fee what thou wert; if fortune thy foe were not, nature is thy friend: come, thou canst not hide it. Mrs. Ford. Believe me, there's no fuch thing in me. Fal. What made me love thee? let that perfuade thee, there's fomething extraordinary in thee. Come, I cannot cog, and fay, thou art this and that, like amany of those lifping haw-thorn buds, that come like women in men's apparel, and fmell like Buckler's-Bury This was an image familiar with the poets of that time. Thus Beaumont and Fletcher, in their play of Wit without Money, She Spreads fattens as the King's fhips do canvas every where, he may space her mifen; &c. This will direct us to reform the following word of tire valiant which I fufpect to be corrupt, valiant being a very incongruous epithet for a woman's headdrefs. I fuppofe Shakespeare wrote tire-vailant. As the hip-tire was an open head-dress, so the tirevailant was a clofe one; in which the head and breaft were covered as with avail. And these were, in fact, the two different headdreffes then in fashion, as we may fee by the pictures of that time. One of which was fo open, that the whole neck, breafts and fhoulders, were open'd to view: the other, fo fecurely inclofed in kerchiefs,&c. that nothing could be feen above the eyes or below the chin. or any Venetian attire.] This is a wrong reading, as ap pears from the impropriety of the word attire here used for a woman's bead-drefs: whereas it fignifies the drefs of any part. We fhould read therefore, Or any 'tire of Venetian admittance. For the word attire, reduced by the Aphæ efis, to 'tire, takes a new fignification, and means only the head-drefs. Hence Tire-woman, for a dreffer of the head. As to the meaning of the latter part of the fentence, this may be feen by a paraphrafe of the whole fpeech, Your face is fo good, fays the speaker, that it would become any head dress worn at court, either the open or the close, or indeed any rich and fafhionable one worth adorning with Venetian point, or which will admit to be adorned. [Of Venetian admittance.] The fafhionable lace, at that time, was Venetian point. WARBURTON. This note is plaufible, except in the explanation of Venetian admittance: but I am afraid this whole fyftem of drefs is unfupported by evidence. in fimpling time; I cannot : but I love thee, none but thee; and thou deferv'ft it. Mrs. Ford. Do not betray me, Sir, I fear, you love miftrefs Page. Fal. Thou might'ft as well fay, I love to walk by the Counter-gate, which is as hateful to me as the reek of a lime-kiln. Mrs. Ford. Well, heav'n knows how I love you, and you shall one day find it. Fal. Keep in that mind; I'll deserve it. Mrs. Ford. Nay, I must tell you, fo you do; or elfe I could not be in that mind. Rob. [within.] Mistress Ford, mistress Ford, here's mistress Page at the door, fweating, and blowing, and looking wildly, and would needs fpeak with you prefently. Fal. She fhall not fee me; I will enfconce me behind the arras. Mrs. Ford. Pray you, do fo; fhe's a very tattling woman. [Falstaff bides himself. What's the matter? how now? Mrs. Page. O mistress Ford, what have you done? you're fham'd, y'are overthrown, you are undone for ever. Mrs. Ford. What's the matter, good miftrefs Page? Mrs. Page. O well-a-day, miftrefs Ford, having an honeft man to your husband, to give him fuch caufe of fufpicion ! Mrs. Ford. What cause of fufpicion ? Mrs. Page. What caufe of fufpicion ?-out upon you!-how am I miftook in you? Mrs. Ford. Why, alas! what's the matter? Mrs. Page. Your hufband's coming hither, woman, with all the officers in Windfor, to fearch for a gentleman, that, he says, is here now in the house, by your confent, to take an ill advantage of his abfence. You are undone. Mrs. Ford. Speak louder-Afide] 'Tis not fo, I hope. Mrs. Page. Pray heav'n it be not fo, that you have fuch a man here; but 'tis moft certain, your hufband's coming with half Windfor at his heels, to fearch for fuch a one. I come before to tell you: if you know yourself clear, why, I am glad of it; but if you have a friend here, convey, convey him out. Be not amazʼd, call all your Senfes to you, defend your reputation, or bid farewel to your good life for ever. Mrs. Ford. What fhall I do? there is a gentleman, my dear friend; and I fear not mine own fhame, so much as his peril. I had rather than a thousand pound, he were out of the house. Mrs. Page. For fhame, never ftand you had rather and you had rather; your husband's here at hand; bethink you of fome conveyance, in the house you cannot hide him. Oh, how have you deceiv'd me? look, here is a basket, if he be of any reasonable stature, he may creep in here, and throw foul linen upon him, as if it were going to bucking: or it is whiting time, fend him by your two men to Datchet-mead. Mrs. Ford. He's too big to go in there: what fhall I do? Re-enter Falftaff. Fal. Let me fee't, let me fee't, O let me fee't. I'll in, I'll in.-Follow your friend's counfel.—I'll in. Mrs. Page. What! Sir John Falstaff ? are these your letters, Knight? Fal. I love thee-Help me away; let me creep in here, I'll never [He goes into the basket, they cover him with foul linen. Mrs. 1 Mrs. Page. Help to cover your master, boy ;-call your men, miftrefs Ford.-You diffembling Knight! Mrs. Ford. What, John, Robert, John, go take up these clothes here, quickly. Where's the cowl-staff? Look, how you drumble: carry them to the landrefs in Datchet-mead; quickly, come. SCENE X. Enter Ford, Page, Caius, and Evans. Ford. Pray you, come near; if I suspect without caufe, why then make sport at me, then lei me be your jeft, I deferve it. How now? whither bear you this? Serv. To the landrefs, forfooth. Mrs. Ford. Why, what have you to do whither they bear it? You were beft meddle with buck-washing. Ford. Buck? I would, I could, wash myself of the buck. Buck, buck, buck? ay, buck: I warrant you, buck, and of the feafon too, it fhall appear. [Exeunt Servants with the basket.] Gentlemen, I have dream'd to-night, I'll tell you my dream. Here, here, here be my keys; ascend my chambers, search, seek, find out, I'll warrant, we'll unkennel the fox. Let me ftop this way firft. So, now uncape. Page. Good mafter Ford, be contented; you wrong yourself too much. Ford. True, mafter Page. Up, gentlemen, you fhall fee sport anon; follow me, gentlemen. Eva. This is ferry fantastical humours and jealoufies. Caius. By gar, 'tis no the fashion of France; it is mot jealous in France. 9 So now uncape.] So the Folio of 1623 reads, and rightly. It is a term in Fox hunting, which fignifies to dig out the Fox when earth'd. And here is as much as to fay, take out the four linnen under which the adulterer lies hid. The Oxford Editor reads uncouple, out of pure love to an emendation. WARB. Page |