SCENE I,
a Street before Mr. Page's House.
Enter Mrs. Page, with a Letter.
Mrs. Page.
What, have I 'scap'd love letters in
the holy-day time of my beauty, and
am I now a subject for them? let me see:
Ask me no reasons why I love you, for though love uses
Reason for his physician, he admits him not for his counsellor:
you are not young, no more am I; go to then, there's
sympathy. You are merry, so am I; ha! ha! then there's
more sympathy: you love sack, and so do I; would you
desire better sympathy? Let it suffice thee, Mistress Page, at
the least if the love of a soldier can suffice, that I love thee.
I will not say, pity me, 'tis not a soldier-like phrase; but
I say, 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 a Herod of Jewry is this! O wicked, wicked
world! what unweigh'd behaviour hath this Flemish
drunkard pickt out of my conversation, that he dares
-- 21 --
in this manner assay me? why, he hath not been
thrice in my company: how shall I be revenged on him?
for reveng'd I will be.
Enter Mrs. Ford* note
Mrs. Ford.
Mrs. Page, trust me, I was going to your
house.
Mrs. Page.
And trust me, I was coming to you; you
look very ill.
Mrs. Ford.
Nay, I'll ne'er believe that. I have to
shew to the contrary.
Mrs. Page.
Faith, but you do, in my mind.
Mrs. Ford.
Well, I do then; yet I say, I could shew
you to the contrary: O Mistress Page, give me some
counsel.
Mrs. Page.
What's the matter, woman?
Mrs. Ford.
O woman! if it were not for one trifling
respect, I could come to such honour.
Mrs. Page.
Hang the trifle, woman, take the honour;
what is it? dispense with trifles; what is it?
Mrs. Ford.
Why, I could be knighted.
Mrs. Page.
What! you jest.
Mrs. Ford.
We burn day-light—here, read, read,
perceive how I might be knighted: I shall 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 swear,
praise women's modesty, and give such orderly and
well-behaved reproof to all uncomeliness, that I would
have sworn his disposition would have gone to the
truth of his words; but they do no more adhere and
keep place together, than the hundreth psalm to the
tune of Green sleeves. What tempest, I trow, threw this
whale ashore at Windsor? How shall I be reveng'd on
him? 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
-- 22 --
mystery of ill opinions, here's the twin-brother of thy
letter; but let thine inherit first, for I protest mine never
shall. I warrant he hath a thousand of these letters
writ with blank spaces, for different names.
Mrs. Ford.
Why, this is the very same, the very hand,
the very words: what doth he think of us?
Mrs. Page.
Nay, I know not; it makes me almost
ready to wrangle with mine own honesty* note: I'll entertain
myself like one that I am not acquainted withal;
for sure unless he knew some strain in me, that I know
not myself, he would never have boarded me in this
fury.
Mrs. Ford.
Boarding, call it you?
Mrs. Page.
Let's be reveng'd on him, let's appoint
him a meeting, and lead him on with a fine baited delay,
till he hath pawn'd his horses to mine host of the
Garter.
Mrs. Ford.
Nay, I will consent to act any villany
against him, that may not sully the chariness of our honesty† note:
O that my husband saw this letter, it would give
eternal food to his jealousy.
Mrs. Page.
Why, look where he comes, and my good
man too: he's as far from jealousy as I am from giving
him cause, and that, I hope, is an unmeasurable distance.
Mrs. Ford.
You are the happier woman.
Mrs. Page.
Let's consult together against this greasy
knight. Come hither.
[They retire.‡ note
Enter Ford and Page.
Ford.
You heard what this knave told me, did you
not&verbar2; note?
-- 23 --
Page.
Yes; and you heard what the other told me?
Ford.
Do you think there is truth in them?
Page.
Hang 'em, slaves, I do not think the knight
would offer it; but these that accuse him in this intent
towards our wives, are a yoke of his discarded men, very
rogues now they be out of service.
Ford.
Were they his men?
Page.
Marry were they.
Ford.
I like it never the better for that.
Does he lie at the Garter?
Page.
Ay, marry does he. If he would intend his
voyage towards my wife, I would turn her loose to him;
and what he gets more of her than sharp words, let it lie
on my head.
Ford.
I do not misdoubt my wife, but I would be loth
to turn them together; a man may be too confident: I
would have nothing lie on my head; I cannot be thus
satisfy'd.
Page.
Look, where my ranting host of the Garter
comes: there is either liquor in his pate, or money in
his purse, when he looks so merrily. How now, mine
host?
Enter Host and Shallow.
Host.
How now, bully-rock? thou'rt a gentleman,
cavaliero-justice, I say.
Shal.
I follow, mine host, I follow. Good even, and
twenty, good Master Page. Master Page, will you go with
us? we have sport in hand.
Host.
Tell him, cavaliero-justice; tell him, bully-rock.
Shal.
Sir, there is a fray to be fought between Sir
Hugh, the Welsh priest, and Caius, the French doctor.
Ford.
Good mine host o'th Garter, a word with you.
Host.
What say'st thou, bully-rock?
Shal.
Will you go with us to behold it? my merry
host hath had the measuring of their weapons, and, I
think, hath appointed them contrary places; for, believe
me, I hear the parson is no jester. Hark, I will
tell you what our sport shall be.
-- 24 --
Host.
Hast thou no suit against my knight, my guest,
cavalier?
Ford.
None, I protest; but I'll give you a pottle of
burnt sack to give me recourse to him, and tell him my
name is Brook; only for a jest.
Host.
My hand, bully; thou shalt have egress and regress;
said I well? and thy name shall be Brook. It is a
merry knight. Will you go on, heris* note?
Shal.
Have with you, mine host.
Page.
I have heard the Frenchman hath good skill in
his rapier.
Shal.
Tut, sir, I could have told you more; in these
times you stand on distance, your passes, stoccado's, and
I know not what: 'tis the heart, Master Page; 'tis here,
'tis here. I have seen the time, with my long sword, I
† notewould have made you four tall fellows skip like rats.
Host.
Here, boys, here, here; shall we wag?
Page.
Have with you; I had rather hear them scold,
than fight.
[Exeunt Host, Shallow, and Page.
Ford.
Though Page be a secure fool, and stands so firmly
on his wife's fealty, yet I cannot put off my opinion
so easily. She was in his company, at Page's house,
and what they made there I know not. Well, I will
look further into't; and I have a disguise to sound
Falstaff: If I find her honest, I lose not my labour; if
she be otherwise, 'tis labour well bestowed.
[Exit.
John Bell [1774], Bell's Edition of Shakespeare's Plays, As they are now performed at the Theatres Royal in London; Regulated from the Prompt Books of each House By Permission; with Notes Critical and Illustrative; By the Authors of the Dramatic Censor (Printed for John Bell... and C. Etherington [etc.], York) [word count] [S10401].
