Pift. I ken the Wight, he is of Subftance good, Fal. My honeft Lads, I will tell you what I am about, Fal. No Quips now, Piftol: Indeed I am in the Wafte 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: Ifpy Entertainment in her; the difcourfes, fhe carves, the gives the Leer of Invitation; I can conftrue the Action of her familiar Stile, and the hardest Voice of her Behaviour, to be english'd right, is, I am Sir John Falftaff's. Pift. He hath ftudy'd her Will, and tranflated her Will, out of Honesty into English. Nym. The Anchor is deep; will that Humour pass? Pal. Now, the Report goes, fhe has all the Rule of her Husband's Purfe: He hath a Legend of Angels. Pift. As many Devils entertain; and to her, Boy, fay I. Nym. The Humour rifes; 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 moft judicious Illiads; fometimes the Beam of her view guided my Foot, fometimes my portly Belly. Pift. Then did the Sun on Dung-hill fhine. Nym. I thank thee for that Humour, Fal. O fhe did fo courfe o'er my Exteriors with fuch a greedy Intention, that the Appetite of her Eye did feem to fcorch me up like a Burning-Glafs: Here's another Letter to her; the bears the Purfe too; fhe is a Region in Guiana, all Gold and Bounty. I will be Cheaters to them both, and they fhall be Exchequers to me; they fhall be my East and Weft-Indies, and I will trade to them both. Go, bear thou this Letter to Mistress Page; and thou this to Miftrefs Ford: We will thrive, Lads, we will thrive, Pift. Shall I Sir Pandarus of Troy become; And by my Side wear Steel? Then Lucifer take all. Rogues, Rogues, hence, avaunt, vanish like Hail-ftones; go, Pift. Let Vultures gripe thy Guts; for Gourd, and Fullam holds; and high and low beguiles the rich and poor. Tefter I'll have in Pouch when thou shalt lack, Bale Phrygian Turk Nym. I have Operations, Which be Humours of Revenge. Pift. Wilt thou revenge? Nym. By Welkin and her Star. Nym. With both the Humours, I: I will difcufs the Humour of this Love to Ford. How Falstaff, Varlet vile, His Dove will prove, his Gold will hold, Nym. My Humour fhall not cool; I will incenfe Ford to deel with Poison, I will proffefs 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. [Exeunt. Enter Mistress Quickly, Simple and John Rugby. Quic. What, John Rugby! I pray thee go to the Cafement, and fee if you can fee my Mafter, Mafter Doctor Caius, coming; if he do, I'faith, and find any body in the House here will be an old abufing of God's Patience, and the King's Englifo Rug. I'll go watch. [Exit Rugby. Quic. Go, and we'll have a Poffet for't foon at Night, in Faith, at the latter end of a Sea-coal Fire; An honeft, willing, kind Fellow, as ever Servant fhall 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 fomeK 4 thing thing peevish that way; but no body but has his Fault; Quic. And Mafter Slender's your Mafter? Quie. Does he not wear a great round Beard, like a Glover's Pairing-knife? Simp. No, Forfooth; he hath but a little Wee-face, with a little yellow Beard, a Cain-colour'd Beard. Quic. A foftly-fpirited Mar, is he not? Simp. Ay, Forfooth; 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 fay you? Oh, I fhould remember him; does he not hold up his Head, as it were? And ftiut in his Gate? Simp. Yes indeed does he. Quic. Well, Heav'n fend. Anne Page no worfe Fortune. Tell Mafter Parfon Evans, I will do what I can for your Mafter: Anne is a good Girl, and I wish Enter Rugby. Rug. Out, alas! here comes my Mafter Quic. We shall all be fhent; run in here, good young Man; go into this Clofet; [buts Simple in the Clofet.] He will not ftay long. What, John Rugby! John! What John? I fay; go John, go enquire for my Mafter, I doubt he be not well, that he comes not home: and down, down, adown'a, &c. Enter Doctor Caius. Caius. Vat is you fing? I do not like des Toys; pray you go and vetch me in my Clofet, un boitier verd; a Box, a green-a Box; do intend vat I fpeak? a'geeen-a Box. Onic. Ay Forfooth, I'll fetch it you. I am glad he went not in himself; if he had fourd 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. Ony, mette le au mon Pocket, Depêch Quickly : Ver is dat Knave Rugby? Quic. What, John Rugby! John! Rug. Here Sir. Cains. 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 fome Simples in my Clofet, dat I will not for the Varld I fhall leave behind. Quic. Ay-me, he'll find the young Man there, and be mad. Caius. O Diable, Diable; vat is in my Clofet? Villanie, Larron. Rugby, my Rapier. Quic. Good Mafter be content. Cains. Wherefore should I be content-a? Cains. What fhall de honeft Man do in my Clofet; dere is no honeft Man dat fhall come in my Closet. Quic I beseech you be not fo flegmatick; hear the truth of it. He came of an Errand to me from Parfon Hugh. Caius. Vell. Simp. Ay Forfooth, to defire her to Quic. Peace, I pray you. Camus. Peace-a your Tongue, fpeak-a your Tale. Simp. To defire this honeft Gentlewoman, your Maid, to speak a good Word to Mistress Anne Page for my Mafter 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 fend-a-you? Rugby, ballow me fome Pas per; tarry you a little-a-while. Quic. I am glad he is fo quiet; if he had been throughly moved, you should have heard him fo loud, and fo melancholy: But notwithstanding, Man, I'll do for your Mafter what good I can; and the very yea, and the no is, the French Doctor my Mafter, I may call him my Mafter, look you, for I keep his. Houfe, and I wash, ring, brew, bake, fcour, drefs Meat and Drink, make the Beds, and do all my felf. Simp. 'Tis a great Charge to come under one body's Hand. 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 fcurvy Jack-a-nape Prieft 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 fhall not have a Stone to trow at his Dog. [Exit Simple. Quic. Alas, he speaks but for his Friend. Cains. It is no matter'a ver dat; do not you tell-a-me dat I fhall have Anne Page for my felf? by gar, I vill kill de Jack Prieft; and I have appointed mine Hoft of de Far tere to measure our Weapon; By gar I will my felf have Anne Page. Quic. Sir, the Maid loves you, and all shall 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. ask. Enter Mr. Fenton. Fent. How now, good Woman, how doft thou? Fent. What News? how does pretty Mistress Anne? Quic. In truth Sir, and he is pretty, and honeft, 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? |