A CT IV. SCENE I.

Page's House.

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 prefently; but truly he is very courageous mad, about his throwing into the water. Mrs. Ford defires you to come fuddenly.

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

Enter Evans.

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

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

Quic. Bleffing on his heart!

Mrs. Page. Sir Hugh, my husband fays, my fon profits nothing in the world at his book; I pray you, afk him fome questions in his Accidence."

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

come.

Mrs. Page. Come on, Sirrah, hold up your head.Anfwer your mafter, be not afraid.

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

This is a very trifling fcene, to the audience; but Shakespeare of no ufe to the plot, and I best knew what would please. fhould think of no great delight

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

Eva. Peace your tatlings. What is Fair, William?
Will. Pulcher.

Quic. Poulcats? there are fairer things than poulcats, fure.

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

Will. A ftone.

Eva. And what is a ftone, 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, hæc, hoc. Eva. Nominativo, hig, hag, hog; pray you, mark; genitivo, hujus: well, what is your accufative cafe? Will. Accufative, hinc.

Eva. I pray you, have your remembrance, child; accufative, hung, hang, bog.

Quic. Hang hog, is Latin for bacon, I warrant you, Eva. Leave your prabbles, 'oman. What is the focative cafe, 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 cafe plural, Willlam? Will. Genive cafe?

Eva. Ay.

Will. Genitive, horum, harum, horum.

Quic. 'Vengeance of Giney's cafe; fie on her! never name her, child, if fhe be a whore.

Exa. For fhame, 'oman.

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

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

Mrs. Page. Pr'ythee, hold thy peace.

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

Will. Forfooth, I have forgot.

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

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

he was.

Eva. He is a good fprag memory.

Page.

Mrs. Page. Adieu, good Sir Hugh. boy. Come, we ftay too long.

SCENE

II.

Fal.

M

Changes to Ford's Houfe.

Enter Falstaff and Mrs. Ford.

Iftrefs Ford, your forrow hath eaten up my fufferance. I fee, you are obfequious in your love, and I profefs requital to a hair's breadth; not only, mistress Ford, in the fimple office of love, but in all the accouftrement, complement, and ceremony of it. But are you fure of your hufband now?

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

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

hoa!

Mrs.

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

Enter Mrs. Page.

[Exit Falstaff

Mrs. Page. How now, fweet heart, who's at home

befides yourself?

Mrs. Ford. Why, none but mine own people.

Mrs. Page. Indeed?

Mrs. Ford. No, certainly

Speak louder. [Afide.

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

here.

Mrs. Ford. Why?

Mrs. Page. Why, woman, your husband is in his old lunes again; he fo takes on yonder with my hufband, fo rails against all married mankind, fo curfes all Eve's daughters, of what complexion foever, and fo buffets himfelf on the forehead, crying, peer-cut +, peer-out! that any madness I ever yet beheld feem'd but tamenefs, civility, and patience, to this diftemper 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 fearch'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 fhall fee his own foolery.

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

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

anon..

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

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

*To take on, which is now ufed for to grieve, seems to be ufed by our author for to rage. Perhaps it was applied to any

paffion.

+ Peer-out,] That is, appear horns. Shakespeare is at his old lanes.

Mrs.

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

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

Mrs. Page. Alas! alas! three of mafter Ford's brothers watch the door with piftols, that none fhould iffue out, otherwife you might flip away ere he came. -But what make you here?

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

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

Fal. Where is it?

Mrs. Ford. He will feek there, on my word. Neither prefs, coffer, cheft, trunk, well, vault, but he hath an abstract for the remembrance of fuch 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 femblance, you die, Sir John, unless you go out difguis'd. How might we difguife him?

Mrs. Page. Alas-the-day, I know not. There is no woman's gown big enough for him; otherwife, he might put on a hat, a muffler, and a kerchief, and fo escape.

Fal. Good heart, devife fomething; any extremity, rather than mifchief.

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

Mrs. Page. On my word, it will ferve him; fhe's as big as he is, and there's her thrum hat, and her muffler too. Run up, Sir John.

Mrs.