Imatges de pÓgina
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Enter Mrs. Page, Mrs. Quickly, and William.

Mrs. Page.
S he at Mr. Ford's already, think'st thou ?

Quic. Sure, he is by this, or will be presently ; but truly he is very courageous mad, about his throwing into the water. Mrs. Ford desires you to come suddenly.

Mrs. Page. I'll be with her by and by; I'll but bring my young man here to school. Look, where his mafter comes; 'tis a playing-day, I fee.

Enter Evans.

How now, Sir Hugh, no school to-day?

Eva. No; master Slender is let the boys leave to play.

Quic. Blessing on his heart !

Mrs. Page. Sir Hugh, my husband says, my son profits nothing in the world at his book; I pray you, ask him some questions in his Accidence.

Eva. Com hither, William--hold up your head, come.

Mrs. Page. Come on, Sirrah, hold up your head. Answer your master, be not afraid.

Eva. William, how many numbers is in nouns?
Vill. Two.

6 This is a very trifling scene, to the audience; but Shakespeare of no use to the plot, and I belt knew what would please. should think of no great delight

Quic. Truly, I thought there had been one number more, because they say, od's nouns.

Eva. Peace your tatlings. What is Fair, William?
Will. Pulcher.
Quic. Poulcats? there are fairer things than poul-

cats, sure.

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Eva. You are a very fimplicity ‘oman; I pray you, peace. What is Lapis, William?

Will. A stone.
Eva. And what is a stone, William ?
Will. A pebble.

Eva. No, it is Lapis : I pray you, remember in your prain. Will

. Lapis. Eva. That is a good William: what is he, William, that does lend articles ? · Will. Articles are borrow'd of the pronoun, and be thus declin’d, fingulariter, nominativo, hic, bæt, hoc.

Eva. Nominativo, hig, hag, hog; pray you, mark ; genitivo, hujus : well, what is your accusative case ?

Will. Accusative, hinc.

Eva. I pray you, have your remembrance, child; accusative, hung, hang, hog.

Quic. Hang hog, is Latin for bacon, I warrant you,

Eva. Leave your prabbles, 'oman. What is the focative case, William?

Will. O, vocativo, O.
Eva. Remember, William, focative is caret.
Quic. And that's a good root.
Eva. 'Oman, forbear.
Mrs. Page. Peace.
Eva. What is your genitive case plural, Willlam?
Will. Genive case ?
Eva. Ay.
Will. Genitive, horum, harum, horum.

Quic. ’Vengeance of Giney's case; fie on her! never name her, child, if she be a whore. Exa. For shame, 'oman.

Quic. .


Quic. You do ill to teach the child such words: he teaches him to hick and to hack, which they'll do fast enough of themselves ; and to call horum ; fie upon

Eva. 'Oman, art thou lunacies? halt thou no understanding for thy cases, and the numbers of the genders? thou art as foolish christian creatures, as I would defire.

Mrs. Page. Prythee, hold thy peace.

Eva. Shew me now, William, fome declensions of your pronouns.

Will. Forsooth, I have forgot.

Eva. It is, ki, ca, cod; if you forget your kies your kæs, and your cods, you must be preeches : go your ways and play, go.

Mrs. Page. He is a better scholar, than I thought he was.

Eva. He is a good sprag memory. Farewel, Mrs. Page.

Mrs. Page. Adieu, good Sir Hugl. Get you home, boy. Come, we stay too long.




Changes to Ford's House.

Enter Falstaff and Mrs. Ford. Fal. Istress Ford, your forrow hath eaten up my

sufferance. I see, you are obsequious in your love, and I profefs requital to a hair's breadth; not only, mistress Ford, in the simple office of love, but in all the accoustrement, complement, and ceremony of it. But are you sure of your husband now?

Mrs. Ford. He's a birding, sweet Sir John.

Mrs. Page. ( within.) What hoa, goslip Ford! what hoa!


Mrs. Ford. Step into the chamber, Sir John.

[Exit Falstaff. Enter Mrs. Page. Mrs. Page. How now, sweet heart, who's at home besides yourself?

Mrs. Ford. Why, none but mine own people.
Mrs. Page. Indeed?
Mrs. Ford. No, certainly - Speak louder. Afide.

Mrs. Page. Truly, I am so glad you have no body here.

Mrs. Ford. Why?

Mrs. Page. Why, woman, your husband is in his old lunes again; he so takes on * yonder with my husband, so rails against all married mankind, fo curses all Eve's daughters, of what complexion soever, and so buffets himself on the forehead, crying, peer-cut peer-out! that any madness I ever yet beheld seem'd but tameness, civility, and patience, to this distemper he is in now.

I am glad, the fat knight is not here. Mrs. Ford. Why, does he talk of him?

Mrs. Page. Of none but him; and fwears, he was carry'd out, the last time he search'd for him, in a basket; protests to my husband, he is now here; and hath drawn him and the rest of their company from their sport, to make another experiment of his fufpicion; but I am glad the knight is not here; now he shall see his own foolery.

Mrs. Ford. How near is he, mistress Page?

Mrs. Page. Hard by, at street's end, he will be here anon.

Mrs. Ford. I am undone, the knight is here.

Mrs. Page. Why, then thou art utterly fhain'd, and he's but a dead man. What a woman are you?-Away with him, away with him; better shame than murther.

* To take on, which is now paflion. used for to grieve, seems to be + Peer-out,] That is, appear used by our author for to rage. borns. Shakespeare is ac bis old Perhaps it was applied to any lanes.


Mrs. Ford. Which way should he go? how should I bestow him? shall I put him into the basket again?


Enter Falstaff.

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Fal. No, I'll come no more i'th' basket': may I not go out, ere he come?

Mrs. Page. Alas! alas! three of master Ford's brothers watch the door with pistols, that none should irsue out, otherwise you might slip away ere he came. -But what make you here?

Fal. What shall I do? I'll creep up into the chimney:

Mrs. Ford. There they always use to discharge their birding-pieces; creep into the kill-hole.

Fal. Where is it?

Mrs. Ford. He will seek there, on my word. Neither press, coffer, chest, trunk, well, vault, but he hath an abstract for the remembrance of such places, and goes to them by his note; there is no hiding you in the house.

Fal, I'll go out then.

Mrs. Ford. If you go out in your own semblance, you die, Sir John, unless you go out disguis’d. 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 mufiler, and a kerchief, and so escape.

Fal. Good heart, devise something; any extremity, rather than mischief.

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

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


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