Simple.
Eva.
I pray you now, good Master Slender's serving-man,
and friend Simple by your name, which
way have you look'd for Master Caius, that calls himself
Doctor of Physick?
Simp.
Marry, sir, the Pitty-wary, the Park-ward,
every way, Old Windsor way, and every way, but the
town way.
Eva.
I most fehemently desire you, you will also look
that way.
Simp.
I will, sir.
Eva.
'Pless my soul, how full of cholars I am, and
trempling of mind! I shall be glad if he have deceived
me; how melancholies I am! I will knog his urinals
about his knave's costard, when I have good opportunities
for the ork; 'pless my soul:
By shallow rivers to whose falls
Melodious birds sing madrigals;
There will we make our peds with roses,
And a thousand vagrant poses.
By shallow—
Mercy on me, I have a great disposition to cry!
Melodious birds sing madrigals
—When as I sat in pabilon;
And a thousand vagrant poses.
By shallow* note, &c.
Sim.
Yonder he is coming, this way, Sir Hugh.
Eva.
He's welcome. By shallow rivers to whose
falls—Heaven prosper the right! what weapons is he.
Sim.
No weapons, sir; there comes my master, Mr.
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
-- 37 --
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.
'Ples you from his mercy sake, all of you.
Shal.
What the sword and the word?
Do you study them both, Mr. 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, Mr.
Parson.
Eva.
Ferry 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 upwards; 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—Mr. Doctor Caius, the
renowned French physician.
Eva.
Got's will, and his passion of my heart! I had
as lief you should tell me of a mess of porridge* note.
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!
Enter Host, Caius, and Rugby.
Shal.
It appears so by his weapons: keep them asunder;
here comes Doctor Caius.
Page.
Nay, good Mr. Parson, keep in your weapon.
-- 38 --
Shal.
So do you, good Mr. Doctor.
Host.
Disarm them, and let them question: let them
keep their limbs whole, and hack our English* note.
Caius.
I pray you, let a me speak a word with the
ear: wherefore will 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 stocks to other
men's humours; I desire you in friendship, and will one
way or other make you amends; I will knog your urinal
about your knave's cog's comb, for missing your meetings
and appointments.
Caius.
Diable! Jack Rugby, mine host de Jarter, have
not I stay for him, to kill him? have I not, at the place
I did appoint?
Eva.
As I am a Christian soul, now look you, this is
the place appointed; I'll be judgement by mine host of
the Garter.
Host.
Peace, I say; Gallia and Gaul, French and Welsh,
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 noverbs.
Give me thy hand, terrestrial; so give us 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† note.
Shal.
Trust me, a mad host! follow, gentlemen,
follow.
Slen.
O sweet Anne Page!
[Ex. Shal. Page, and Host.
-- 39 --
Caius.
Ha! do I perceive dat? Have you make a-de
sot of us, ha, ha?
Eva.
This is well, he has made us his vlouting-stog:
I desire you that we may be friends, and let us knog our
prains together, to be revenge on this same scall'd scurvy
cogging companion, the host of the Garter.
Caius.
By gar, with all my heart; he promise to bring
me where is Anne Page; by gar, he deceive me too.
Eva.
Well, I will smite his noddles; pray you
follow.
[Exeunt.
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].
