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 Defires 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. 4 [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. 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? K 3 Pist Pift. I ken the Wight, he is of Substance good. Fal. No Quips now, Pistol: Indeed I am in the Waste two Yards about; but I am now about no Waste, I am about Thrift. Briefly, I do mean to make Love to Ford's Wife: I spy Entertainment in her; she discourses, she carves, she gives the Leer of Invitation; I can construe the Action of her familiar Stile, and the hardest Voice of her Behaviour, to be english'd right, is, I am Sir John Falstaff's. Pist. He hath study'd her Will, and translated her Will, out of Honesty into English. Nym. The Anchor is deep; will that Humour pass ? Fal. Now, the Report goes, she has all the Rule of her Husband's Purse: He hath a Legend of Angels. Pift. As many Devils entertain; and to her, Boy, say I. Nym. The Humour rises; it is good; humour me the Angels. Fal. I have writ me here a Letter to her; and here another to Page's Wife, who even now gave me good Eyes too, examin'd my Parts with most judicious Illiads; sometimes the Beam of her view guided my Foot, sometimes my portly Belly. Pist. Then did the Sun on Dung-hill shine. Fal. O she did so course o'er my Exteriors with such a greedy Intention, that the Appetite of her Eye did seem to scorch me up like a Burning-glass: Here's another Letter to her; the bears the Purse too; she is a Region in Guiana, all Gold and Bounty. I will be Cheaters to them both, and they shall be Exchequers to me; they shall be my East and West-Indies, and I will trade to them both. Go, bear thou this Letter to Mistress Page; and thou this to Mistress Ford: We will thrive, Lads, we will thrive. Pist. Shall I Sir Pandarus of Troy become; And by my Side wear Steel? Then Lucifer take all. Nym. I will run no base Humour: Here take the Hu mour-Letter, I will keep the Haviour of Reputation. Fal. Hold, Sirrah, bear you these Letters rightly, Sail like my Pinnace to these golden Shores. Rogues, Rogues, hence, avaunt, vanish like Hail-ftones; go, [Exit. Falstaff and Boy. Pift. Let Vultures gripe thy Guts; for Gourd, and Ful- 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 fecond thee; troop on. [Excunt. SCENE IV. 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 thing peevish that way; but no body but has his Fault; but let that pass. Peter Simple you say your Name is. Simp. Ay, for fault of a better. Onic. And Master Slender's your Master? Simp. Ay, Forsooth, Quic. Does he not wear a great round Beard, like a Glover's Pairing-knife ? Simp. No, Forsooth; he hath but a little Wee-face, with a little yellow Beard, a Cain-colour'd Beard. Quic. A foftly-fpirited Man, is he not? Simp. Ay, Forsooth; but he is as tall a Man of his Hands, as any is between this and his Head; he hath fought with a Warrener, Quic. How say you? Oh, I should remember him; does he not hold up his Head, as it were? And strut in his Gate? Simp. Yes indeed does he. Quic. Well, Heav'n send Anne Page no worse Fortune. Tell Master Parson Evans, I will do what I can for your Master: Anne is a good Girl, and I wish Enter Rugby. Rug. Out, alas! here comes my Master, Quic. We shall all be shent; run in here, good young Man; go into this Closet; [Shuts Simple in the Closet.] He will not stay long. What, John Rugby! John! What John! I fay; go John, go enquire for my Master, I doubt he be not well, that he comes not home; and down, down, a. down'a, &c. Enter Doctor Caius. Caius. Vat is you fing? I do not like des Toys; pray you go and vetch me in my Closet, un boitier verd; a Box, a green-a Box; do intend vat I speak? a green-a Box. Quic. Ay Forsooth, I'll fetch it you. I am glad he went not in himself; if he had found the young Man, he would have been horn-mad. Caius. Fe, fe, fe, fe, ma foi, Il fait fort chaud, je m'en va a la Cour la grande Affaire. Quic. Is it this Sir? Caius. Ouy, mette le au mon Pocket, Depêch Quickly; Vere is dat Knave Rugby? Quic. What, John Rugby! John! Rug. Here Sir. Caius. You are John Rugby, and you are Jack Rugby; come, take-a your Rapier, and come after my Heel to the Court. Rug. 'Tis ready, Sir, here in the Porch. Cains. By my Trot I tarry too long: Od's me: Que ay je oublie: Dere is some Simples in my Closet, dat I will not for the Varld I shall leave behind. Quic. Ay-me, he'll find the young Man there, and be mad. Caius. O Diable, Diable; vat is in my Closet? Villanie, Larron. Rugby, my Rapier. Caius. Wherefore should I be content-a? Quic. The young Man is an honest Man. Caius. What shall de honest Man do in my Closet; dere is no honest Man dat shall come in my Closet. Quic. I beseech you be not so flegmatick; hear the truth of it. He came of an Errand to me from Parson Hugh. Caius. Vell, Simp. Ay Forsooth, to defire her to Quic. Peace, I pray you. Caius. Peace-a your Tongue, speak-a your Tale. Simp. To defire this honest Gentlewoman, your Maid, to speak a good Word to Mistress Anne Page for my Master in the way of Marriage. Quic. This is all indeed-la; but I'll ne'er put my Finger in the Fire, and need not. Caius. Sir Hugh send-a-you? Rugby, ballow me some Paper; tarry you a little-a-while. Quic. I am glad he is so quiet; if he had been throughly moved, you should have heard him so loud, and fo melancholy: But notwithstanding, Man, I'll do for your Master what good I can; and the very yea, and the no is, the French Doctor my Master, I may call him my Master, look you, for I keep his House, and I wash, ring, brew, bake, scour, dress Meat and Drink, make the Beds, and do all my felf. Simp. 'Tis a great Charge to come under one body's Hand, |