Quic. Are you a-vis'd o'that? you fhall find it a great Charge; and to be up early, and down late. But notwithftanding, to tell you in your Ear, I would have no words of it, my Mafter himself is in Love with Mistress Anne Page; but notwithstanding that, I know Anne's Mind, that's neither here nor there.

Caius. You, Jack' Nape; give'a this Letter to Sir Hugh, by gar it is a Shallenge: I will cut his Troat in de Parke, and I will teach a scurvy Jack-a-nape Priest to meddle or make.You may be gone, it is not good you tarry here; by gar I will cut all his two Stones, by gar, he shall not have a Stone to trow at his Dog. [Exit Simple.

Quic. Alas, he speaks but for his Friend.

Caius. It is no matter'a ver dat; do not you tell-a-me dat I shall have Anne Page for my felf? by gar, I vill kill de Jack Prieft; and I have appointed mine Hoft of de Fartere to measure our Weapon: By gar I will my felf have Anne Page.

Quic. Sir, the Maid loves you, and all fhall be well: We muft give Folks leave to prate; what the good-jer.

Caius. Rugby, come to the Court with me; by gar, if I have not Anne Page, I fhall turn your Head out of my Door; follow my Heels, Rugby. [Ex. Caius and Rugby.

Quic. You fhall have Anne Fools-head of your own. No, I know Anne's Mind for that; that never a Woman in Windfor knows more of Anne's Mind than I do, nor can do more than I do with her, I thank Heav'n.

Fent. [within] Who's within there, hoa?

Quic. Who's there, I trow? Come near the Houfe, I pray you.

Enter Mr. Fenton.

Fent. How now, good Woman, how doft thou? Quic. The better that it pleases your good Worship to ask.

Fent. What News? how does pretty Mistress Anne?

Quic. In truth Sir, and he is pretty, and honest, and gentle, and one that is your Friend, I can tell you that by the Way, I praise Heav'n for it.

Fent. Shall I do any good, think'ft thou? fhall I not lofe my Suit?

Quic. Troth, Sir, all is in his Hands above; but notwithitanding, Master Fenton, I'll be worn on a Book the loves you: Have not your Worship a Wart above your Eye? Fent. Yes, marry have I; what of that?

Quic. Well, thereby hangs a Tale; good Faith, it is such another Nan; but, I deteft, an honeft Maid as ever broke Bread; we had an Hours talk of that Wart: I fhall never laugh but in that Maid's Company; but, indeed, the is gi ven too much to Allicholly and Mufing, but for youWell go to.

Fent. Well, I fhall fee her to Day; hold, there's Mony for thee: Let me have thy Voice in my behalf; if thou seest her before me, commend me.

Quic. Will I? Ay faith that we will: And I will tell your Worship more of the Wart, the next time we have confidence, and of other Wooers.

Fent. Well, farewel, I am in great hafte now. [Exit. Quic. Farewel to your Worfhip. Truly an honeft Gentleman, but Anne loves him not; for I know Anne's Mind as well as another does. Out upon't, what have I forgot? [Exit.

ACT II.

SCENE I.

Enter Mistress Page with a Letter.

Mrs. Page. W Holy-day-time of my Beauty, and am I

HAT, have I 'fcap'd Love-Letters in the

now a Subject for them? let me fee:

Ask me no Reason why I love you; for tho' Love nfe Rea fon for his Precifian, he admits him not for his Counsellor : You are not young, no more am I; go to then, there's Sympathy: You are merry, fo am I; ha! ha! then there's more Sympathy: You love Sack, and fo do I; would you defire better Sympathy? Let it fuffice thee, Mistress Page, at the least, if the Love of a Soldier can fuffice, that I love thee. I will not fay, Pity me, 'tis not a Soldier-like Phrase; but I fay, Love me:

By me, thine own true Knight, by Day or Night,
Or any kind of Light, with all his Might,
For thee to fight.

John Falstaff,

What

What a Herod of Jury is this? O wicked, wicked World!
One that is well nigh worn to pieces with Age,
To fhow himself a young Gallant? What unwayed
Behaviour hath this Flemish Drunkard pickt,

I' th' Devil's Name, out of my Converfation, that he dares in this manner affay me? Why, he hath not been thrice in my Company: What should I say to him? I was then frugal of my Mirth, Heav'n forgive me: Why, I'll exhibit a Bill in the Parliament for the putting down of Men; how shall I be reveng❜d on him? for reveng'd I will be, as fure as his Guts are made of Puddings.

Enter Mrs. Ford.

Mrs. Ford. Miftrefs Page, truft me, I was going to your House.

Mrs. Page. And truft me, I was coming to you; you look very ill.

Mrs. Ford. Nay, I'll ne'er believe that; I have to fhew to the contrary.

Mrs. Page. 'Faith you do, in my Mind.

Mrs. Ford. Well, I do then; yet I fay, I could fhew you to the contrary: O Miftrefs Page, give me fome Counsel. Mrs. Page. What's the matter, Woman?

Mrs. Ford. O Woman! if it were not for one trifling Refpect, I could come to fuch Honour.

Mrs. Page. Hang the Trifle, Woman, take the Honour ; what is it? difpenfe with Trifles; what is it?

Mrs. Ford. If I would but go to Hell for an eternal Moment, or fo, I could be knighted.

Mrs. Page. What, thou lieft! Sir Alice Ford! thefe Knights will hack, and fo thou shouldft not alter the Article of thy Gentry.

Mrs. Ford. We burn Day-light, here; read, read, perceive how I might be knighted: I fhall think the worse of fat Men as long as I have an Eye to make difference of Men's liking; and yet he would not fwear, praife Women's Modefty, and gave fuch orderly and well-behaved Reproof to all Uncomelinefs, that I would have fworn his Difpofition would have gone to the Truth of his Words; but they do no more adhere, and keep Place together, than the hundredth Pfalm to the Tune of Green Sleeves. What

Tempeft,

Tempeft, I trow, threw this Whale, with fo many Tun of Oil in his Belly, a'fhore at Windfor? How fhall I be reveng'd on him? I think the best way were to entertain him with Hope, 'till the wicked Fire of Luft have melted him in his own Grease. Did you ever hear the like?

Mrs. Page. Letter for Letter, but that the Name of Page and Ford differs. To thy great Comfort in this myftery of ill Opinions, here's the Twin-brother of thy Letter; but let thine inherit first, for I proteft mine never fhall. I warrant he hath a thousand of thefe Letters, writ with blankspace for different Names, nay more; and thefe are of the fecond Edition: He will print them out of doubt, for he cares not what he puts into the Prefs, when he would put us two. I had rather be a Giantess, and lye under MountPelion. Well, I will find you twenty lafcivious Turtles, e'er one chafte Man.

Mrs. Ford. Why, this is the very fame, the very Hand, the very Words; what doth he think of us?

Mrs. Page. Nay, I know not; it makes me almoft ready to wrangle with mine own Honefty. I'll entertain my felf like one that I am not acquainted withal; for fure, unless he knew fome Strain in me, that I know not my self, he would never have boarded me in this Fury.

Mrs. Ford. Boarding, call it you? I'll be fure to keep him above Deck.

Mrs. Page. So will I; if he come under my Hatches, I'll never to Sea again. Let's be reveng'd on him, let's appoint him a Meeting, give him a fhow of Comfort in his Suit, and lead him on with a fine baited Delay, 'till he hath pawn'd his Horfes to mine Hoft of the Garter.

Mrs. Ford. Nay, I will confent to act any Villany against him that may not fully the Charinefs of our Honefty: Oh that my Husband faw this Letter, it would give eternal Food to his Jealoufie.

Mrs. Page. Why, look where he comes, and my good Man too; he's as far from Jealoufie as I am from giving him Cause, and that, I hope, is an unmeafurable Diftance.

Mrs. Ford. You are the happier Woman.

Mrs. Page.

Mrs. Page. Let's confult together againft this greafie Knight. Come hither.

Enter Ford with Piftol, Page with Nym.

Ford. Well, I hope it be not fo.

Pift. Hope is a Curtal-dog in fome Affairs. Sir John affects your Wife.

Ford. Why, Sir, my Wife is not young.

Pift. He woos both high and low, both rich and poor, both young and old, and one with another, Ford; he loves thy Gally-mawfry, Ford, perpend.

Ford. Love my Wife?

Pift. With Liver burning hot: Prevent,

Or go thou, like Sir Acteon, with

Ring-wood at thy Heels: O, odious is the Name.

Ford. What Name, Sir?

Pift. The Horn, I fay: Farewel.

Take heed, have open Eye; for Thieves do foot by Night. Take heed e'er Summer comes, or Cuckoo-birds do fing. Away, Sir Corporal Nym.

Believe it, Page, he fpeaks Senfe.

[Exit Pistol. Ford. I will be patient; I will find out this.

Nym. And this is true: I like not the Humour of lying; he hath wrong'd me in fome Humours: I should have born the humour'd Letter to her; but I have a Sword, and it fhall bite upon my Neceffity. He loves your Wife; there's the fhort and the long. My Name is Corporal Nym; I speak it, and I avouch 'tis true, my Name is Nym, and Falstaff loves your Wife. Adieu; I love not the Humour of Bread and Cheese: Adieu. [Exit Nym.

Page. The Humour of it, quoth 'a? here's a Fellow frights English out of his Wits.

Ford. I will feek out Falstaff.

Page. I never heard fuch a drawling, affecting Rogue.
Ford. If I do find it: Well.

Page. I will not believe fuch a Cataian, tho' the Prieft

o' th' Town commended him for a true Man.

Ford. 'Twas a good fenfible Fellow: Well.

Page. How now, Meg?

Mrs. Page. Whither go you, George? hark you.

Mrs. Ford. How now, fweet Frank, why art thou melancholly?

Ford.