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Fal. Hang him, poor cuckoldy knave! I know him not-yet I wrong him to call him poor; they say, the jealous wittolly knave hath masses of money for the which his wife seems to me wellfavoured. I will use her as the key of the cuckoldy rogue's coffer; and there's my harvest-home.

Ford. I would you knew Ford, sir; that you might avoid him, if you saw him.

Fal. Hang him, mechanical salt-butter rogue! I will stare him out of his wits; I will awe him with my cudgel: it shall hang like a meteor o'er the cuckold's horns: Master Brook, thou shalt know, I will predominate o'er the peasant, and thou shalt lie with his wife.-Come to me soon at night: Ford's a knave, and I will aggravate his style; thou, Master Brook, shalt know him for a knave and cuckold:-come to me soon at night.

[Exit.

Ford. What a damned Epicurean rascal is this! -My heart is ready to crack with impatience.— Who says this is improvident jealousy? My wife hath sent to him, the hour is fixed, the match is made. Would any man have thought this?-See the hell of having a false woman! my bed shall be abused, my coffers ransacked, my reputation gnawn at; and I shall not only receive this villanous wrong, but stand under the adoption of abominable terms, and by him that does me this wrong. Terms! names!-Amaimon sounds well; Lucifer, well; Barbason, well; yet they are devils' additions, the names of fiends: but cuckold ; wittol-cuckold! the devil himself hath not such a name. Page is an ass, a secure ass; he will trust his wife, he will not be jealous: I will rather trust a Fleming with my butter, parson Hugh the Welchman with my cheese, an Irishman with my aqua-vitæ bottle, or a thief to walk my ambling gelding, than my wife with herself: then she plots, then she ruminates, then she devises: and what they think in their hearts they may effect, they will break their hearts but they will effect. Heaven be praised for my jealousy!-Eleven o'clock the hour;-I will prevent this, detect my wife, be revenged on Falstaff, and laugh at Page. I will about it; better three hours too soon, than a minute too late. Fie, fie, fie! cuckold! cuckold! cuckold! [Exit.

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no come; he has pray his Pible vell, dat he is no come: by gar, Jack Rugby, he is dead already, if he be come.

Rug. He is wise, sir; he knew your worship would kill him, if he came.

Caius. By gar, de herring is no dead, so as I vill kill him. Take your rapier, Jack; I vill tell you how I vill kill him.

Rug. Alas, sir, I cannot fence!
Caius. Villany, take your rapier.
Rug. Forbear; here's company.

Enter HOST, SHALLOW, SLENDER, and Page.
Host. 'Bless thee, bully doctor.
Shal. Save you, Master Doctor Caius.
Page. Now, good Master Doctor!
Slen. Give you good morrow, sir.
Caius. Vat be all you, one, two, tree, four,
come for?

Host. To see thee fight, to see thee foin, to see thee traverse, to see thee here, to see thee there; to see thee pass thy punto, thy stock, thy reverse, thy distance, thy montánt. Is he dead, my Ethiopian? is he dead, my Francisco? ha, bully! What says my Esculapius? my Galen? my heart of elder? ha! is he dead, bully Stale? is he dead? Caius. By gar, he is de coward jack priest of the vorld; he is not shew his face.

Host. Thou art a Castilian king, Urinal! Hector of Greece, my boy!

Caius. I pray you, bear vitness dat me have stay six or seven, two or tree hours for him, and he is no come.

Shal. He is the wiser man, Master Doctor: he is a curer of souls, and you a curer of bodies; if you should fight, you go against the hair of your professions; is it not true, Master Page?

Page. Master Shallow, you have yourself been a great fighter, though now a man of peace.

Shal. Bodykins, Master Page, though I now be old, and of the peace, if I see a sword out, my finger itches to make one: though we are justices, and doctors, and churchmen, Master Page, we have some salt of our youth in us; we are the sons of women, Master Page.

Page. 'Tis true, Master Shallow.

Shal. It will be found so, Master Page. Master Doctor Caius, I am come to fetch you home. I am sworn of the peace; you have shewed yourself a wise physician, and Sir Hugh hath shewn himself a wise and patient churchman: you must go with me, Master Doctor.

Host. Pardon, guest justice :-A word, Monsieur Muck-water.

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Page. Shal. Slen.

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Host. He will clapper-claw thee tightly, bully. Caius. Clapper-de-claw! vat is dat? Host. That is, he will make thee amends. Caius. By gar, me do look he shall clapperde-claw me; for, by gar, me vill have it.

Host. And I will provoke him to 't, or let him wag.

Caius. Me tank you for dat.

Host. And moreover, bully, but first, master guest, and Master Page, and eke Cavalero Slender, go you through the town to Frogmore.

[Aside to them.

Page. Sir Hugh is there, is he?

Host. He is there: see what humour he is in; and I will bring the doctor about by the fields: will it do well?

Shal. We will do it.

Adieu, good master doctor.

[Exeunt PAGE, SHALLOW, & SLEnder. Caius. By gar, me vill kill de priest; for he speak for a jack-an-ape to Anne Page.

Host. Let him die: but, first, sheath thy impatience; throw cold water on thy choler: go about the fields with me through Frogmore; Iwill bring thee where Mistress Anne Page is, at a farm-house, a-feasting: and thou shalt woo her: Cry'd game, said I well?

Caius. By gar, me tank you for dat: by gar, I love you; and I shall procure-a you de good guest, de earl, de knight, de lords, de gentlemen, my patients.

Host. For the which I will be thy adversary towards Anne Page; said I well?

Caius. By gar, 'tis good; vell said.

Host. Let us wag, then.

Caius. Come at my heels, Jack Rugby. [Exeunt.

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Enter SIR HUGH EVANS and SIMPLE.

Eva. I pray you now, good Master Slender's serving-man, and friend Simple by your name, which way have you looked for Master Caius, that calls himself doctor of physic?

every way; old Windsor way, and the town way.

every way but

Eva. I most fehemently desire you, you will also look that way.

Sim. I will, sir.

Eva. 'Pless my soul! how full of cholers I am, and trempling of mind!-I shall be glad if he

Sim. Marry, sir, the city-ward, the park-ward, have deceived me:-how melancholies I am!-I

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Sim. No weapons, sir: There comes my master, Master Shallow, and another gentleman from Frogmore, over the stile, this way.

Eva. Pray you, give me my gown; or else keep it in your arms.

Enter PAGE, SHALLOW, and SLEnder.

Shal. How now, master parson? Good-morrow, good Sir Hugh. Keep a gamester from the dice, and a good student from his book, and it is wonderful.

Slen. Ah, sweet Anne Page!
Page. Save you, good Sir Hugh!

Eva. 'Pless you from his mercy sake, all of you! Shal. What! the sword and the word! do you study them both, master parson?

Page. And youthful still, in your doublet and hose, this raw rheumatic day?

Eva. There is reasons and causes for it. Page. We are come to you, to do a good office, master parson?

Eva. Fery well: What is it?

Page. Yonder is a most reverend gentleman, who, belike, having received wrong by some person, is at most odds with his own gravity and patience, that ever you saw.

Shal. I have lived fourscore years, and upward; I never heard a man of his place, gravity, and learning, so wide of his own respect. Eva. What is he?

Page. I think you know him: Master Doctor Caius, the renowned French physician.

Era. Got's will, and his passion of my heart! I had as lief you would tell me of a mess of porridge. Page. Why?

Eva. He has no more knowledge in Hibocrates and Galen,—and he is a knave besides; a cowardly knave, as you would desire to be acquainted withal. Page. I warrant you he's the man should fight with him.

Slen. O, sweet Anne Page!

Shal. It appears so, by his weapons:-Keep them asunder;-here comes Doctor Caius.

Enter HOST, CAIUS, and RUGBY. Page. Nay, good master parson, keep in your weapon.

Shal. So do you, good master doctor.

Host. Disarm them, and let them question; let them keep their limbs whole, and hack our English.

Caius. I pray you, let-a me speak a word vit your ear: Verefore vill you not meet-a me?

Eva. Pray you, use your patience: In good time. Caius. By gar, you are de coward, de jack-dog, john-ape.

Eva. Pray you, let us not be laughing-stogs to other men's humours; I desire you in friendship, and I will one way or other make you amends :-I will knog your urinals about your knave's cogscomb, for missing your meetings and appointments.

Caius. Diable!-Jack Rugby,-mine Host de Jarterre, have I not stay for him, to kill him? have I not, at de place I did appoint?

you,

Eva. As I am a Christians soul, now, look this is the place appointed; I'll be judgment by mine Host of the Garter.

Host. Peace, I say, Guallia and Gaul, French and Welch; soul-curer and body-curer. Caius. Ay, dat is very good! excellent! Host. Peace, I say; hear mine Host of the Garter. Am I politic? am I subtle? am I a Machiavel? Shall I lose my doctor? no; he gives me the potions and the motions. Shall I lose my parson? my priest? my Sir Hugh? no; he gives me the proverbs and the no-verbs.-Give me thy hand, terrestrial; so:-Give me thy hand, celestial; so. -Boys of art, I have deceived you both; I have directed you to wrong places: your hearts are mighty, your skins are whole, and let burnt sack be the issue.-Come, lay their swords to pawn:-Follow me, lad of peace; follow, follow, follow.

Shal. Trust me, a mad host:-Follow, gentlemen, follow.

Slen. O, sweet Anne Page!

[Exeunt SHALLOw, Slender, Page, and HOST.

Caius. Ha; do I perceive dat? have you makea de sot of us? ha, ha!

Eva. This is well; he has made us his vloutingstog. I desire you that we may be friends, and let us knog our prains together, to be revenge on this same scall, scurvy, cogging companion, the Host of the Garter.

Caius. By gar, vit all my heart; he promise to bring me vere is Anne Page: by gar, he deceive

me too.

Eva. Well, I will smite his noddles :—Pray you, follow. [Exeunt.

SCENE II.-The Street in Windsor.

Enter MISTRESS PAGE and ROBIN.

Mrs. Page. Nay, keep your way, little gallant ; you were wont to be a follower, but now you are a leader: Whether had you rather lead mine eyes, or eye your master's heels?

Rob. I had rather, forsooth, go before you like a man, than follow him like a dwarf. Mrs. Page. O you are a flattering boy; now I see you'll be a courtier.

Enter FORD.

Ford. Well met, Mistress Page: Whither go you?

Mrs. Page. Truly, sir, to see your wife: Is she at home?

Ford. Ay; and as idle as she may hang together, for want of company: I think, if your husbands were dead, you two would marry.

Mrs. Page. Be sure of that,-two other husbands.

Ford. Where had you this pretty weathercock? Mrs. Page. I cannot tell what the dickens his name is my husband had him of: What do you call your knight's name, sirrah?

Rob. Sir John Falstaff.
Ford. Sir John Falstaff!

Mrs. Page. He, he; I can never hit on 's name. -There is such a league between my good man and he!-Is your wife at home, indeed?

Ford. Indeed, she is.

Mrs. Page. By your leave, sir;-I am sick till I see her. [Exeunt MRS. PAGE and ROBIN.

Ford. Has Page any brains? hath he any eyes? hath he any thinking? Sure, they sleep; he hath no use of them. Why, this boy will carry a letter twenty miles, as easy as a cannon will shoot pointblank twelve score. He pieces out his wife's inclination; he gives her folly motion and advantage: and now she's going to my wife, and Falstaff's boy with her. A man may hear this shower sing in the wind!—and Falstaff's boy with her!-Good plots!

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