Eva. Nay, it is petter yet; give her this Letter; for it is a 'oman that altogethers Acquaintance with Mistress Anne Page; and the Letter is to defire, and require her to follicit your Master's Desires to Mistress Anne Page: I pray you be gone; I will make an end of my Dinner; there's Pippins and Cheese to come. [Exeunt. Enter Falstaff, Host, Bardolph, Nym, Pistol and Robin. Fal. Mine Host of the Garter. Hoft. What says my Bully Rock? speak schollarly, and wifely. Fal. Truly, mine Host, I must turn away some of my Followers. Hoft. Discard, Bully Hercules, cashier; let them wag; trot, trot. Fal. I fit at ten Pounds a Week. Hoft. Thou'rt an Emperor, Casar, Keisar and Phaezer. I will entertain Bardolph, he will draw, he will tap, said I well, Bully Hector? Fal. Do so, good mine Hoft. Hoft. I have spoke, let him follow; let me fee thee froth and live: I am at a word; follow. [Exit Hoft. Fal. Bardolph follow him, a Tapster is a good Trade; an old Cloak makes a new Jerkin; a wither'd Serving-man, a fresh Tapster; go, adieu. Bard. It is a Life that I have defir'd: I will thrive. 41 [Exit Bard. Pift. O base Hungarian Wight, wilt thou the Spigot wield. Nym. He was gotten in Drink; is not the Humour conceited. Fal. I am glad I am so acquit of this Tinderbox; his Thefts were too open, his Filching was like an unskilful Singer, he kept not time. 1 Nym. The good Humour is to steal at a Minute's rest... Pift. Convey, the Wise it call: Steal? foh; a fico for the Phrafe. Fal. Well, Sirs, I am almost out at Heels. Pift. Why then let Kibes ensue. Fal. There is no remedy: I must conicatch, I must shift. Pift. Young Ravens must have Food. Fal. Which of you know Ford of this Town? 1 : 1 Pift. I ken the Wight, he is of Substance good. Fal. No Quips now, Pistol: Indeed I am in the Waste Pift. He hath study'd her Will, and translated her Will, Nym. The Anchor is deep; will that Humour pass? Pift. As many Devils entertain; and to her, Boy, say I. Fal. I have writ me here a Letter to her; and here a- Pist. Then did the Sun on Dung-hill shine. Fal. O she did so course o'er my Exteriors with such a Pift. Shall I Sir Pandarus of Troy become; And by my Side wear Steel? Then Lucifer take all. mour-Letter, I will keep the Haviour of Reputation. Sail like my Pinnace to these golden Shores. Rogues, Rogues, hence, avaunt, vanish like Hail-ftones; go, [Exit. Falstaff and Boy. Pist. Let Vultures gripe thy Guts; for Gourd, and Fullam holds; and high and low beguiles the rich and poor. Tester I'll have in Pouch when thou shalt lack, Base Phrygian Turk. Nym. I have Operations, Nym. With both the Humours, I: How Falstaff, Varlet vile, Nym. My Humour shall not cool; I will incense Ford to deal with Poison, I will possess him with Yellowness, for the Revolt of mine is dangerous: That is my true Hu mour. Pift. Thou art the Mars of Male-contents: I second thee; troop on. SCENE IV. Exeunt. Enter Mistress Quickly, Simple and John Rugby.. Quic. What, John Rugby! I pray thee go to the Casement, and fee if you can see my Master, Master Doctor Caius, coming; if he do, I'faith, and find any body in the House, here will be an old abusing of God's Patience, and the King's English. Rug. I'll go watch. [Exit Rugby. Quic. Go, and we'll have a Poffet for't soon at Night, in Faith, at the latter end of a Sea-coal Fire: An honeft, willing, kind Fellow, as ever Servant shall come in House withal, and I warrant you no Tell-tale, nor no Breed-bate; his worst Fault is that he is given to Pray'r, he is some K 4 thing Slen. I may quarter, Coz. Shal. You may, by marrying. Eva. It is marring indeed, if he quarter it. Eva. Yes per-lady; if he has a quarter of your Coat, there is but three Skirts for your self, in my fimple Conjectures; but that is all one: If Sir John Falstaff have committed Disparagements unto you, I am of the Church, and will be glad to do my Benevolence, to make Atonements and Compremises between you. Shal. The Council shall hear it; it is a Riot. Eva. It is not meet the Council hear of a Riot; there is no Fear of Got in a Riot: The Council, look you, shall defire to hear the Fear of Got, and not to hear a Riot; take you viza-ments in that. Shal. Ha; o' my Life, if I were young again, the Sword should end it. Eva. It is petter that Friends is the Sword, and end it ; and there is also another Device in my Prain, which peradventure prings good Difcretions with it: There is Anne Page, which is Daughter to Master Thomas Page, which is pretty Virginity. Slen. Mistress Anne Page? she has brown Hair, and speaks like a Woman. Eva. It is that ferry Person for all the Orld, as just as you will defire; and seven hundred Pounds of Monies, and Gold, and Silver, is her Grand-fire upon his Deaths-bed (Got deliver to a joyful Refurrections) give, when she is able to overtake seventeen Years old: It were a good Motion, if we leave our pribbles and prabbles, and defire a Marriage between Master Abraham, and Mistress Anne Page. Slen. Did her Grand-fire leave her seven hundred Pound? Eva. Ay, and her Father is make her a petter Penny. Slen. I know the young Gentlewoman; she has good Gifts. Gifts. Eva. Seven hundred Pounds, and possibility is goot Shal. Well; let us fee honest Mr. Page: Is Falstaff there? Eva. Shall I tell you a Lie? I do despise a Liar as I do despise one that is false; or as I despife one that is not true. The Knight, Sir John, is there; and I beseech you be ruled by your Well-wishers. I will peat the Door [Knocks] for Master Page. What hoa? Got bless your House here. Page. Who's there? Enter Mr. Page. Eva. Here is Got's plessing, and your Friend, and Justice Shallow; and here's young Master Slender; that peradventures shall tell you another Tale, if matters grow to your likings. Page. I am glad to fee your Worship's well: I thank you for my Venison, Master Shallow. Shal. Master Page, I am glad to fee you; much good do it your good Heart: I wish'd your Venison better; it was ill killd. How doth good Mistress Page? And I thank you always with my Heart, la; with my Heart. Page. Sir, I thank you. Shal. Sir, I thank you; by yea and no I do. Page. I am glad to see you, good Master Slender. Slen. How do's your fallow Greyhound, Sir? I heard say, he was out-run on Cotfale. Page. It could not be judg'd, Sir. Slen. You'll not confefs, you'll not confefs. Shal. That he will not, 'tis your fault, 'tis your fault; 'tis a good Dog. Page. A Cur, Sir. Shal. Sir, he's a good Dog, and a fair Dog; can there be more faid? He is good and fair. Is Sir John Falstaff here? Page. Sir, he is within; and I would I could do a good Office between you. Eva. It is spoke as a Christians ought to speak. Shal. He hath wrong'd me, Master Page. Page. Sir, he doth in some fort confefs it. Shal. If it be confefs'd, it is not redress'd; is not that so, Mr. Page? He hath wrong'd me, indeed he hath, at a word he hath, believe me, Robert Shallow, Esquire, faith, he is wrong'd. Page. Here comes Sir John. Enter |