Ford.
Fal.
Mistress Ford, your sorrow hath eaten up
my sufferance; I see you are obsequious in
your love, and I profess requital to a hair's breadth; not
only, Mrs. Ford, in the simple office of love, but in the
accoustrement, compliment, and ceremony of it. But
are you sure of your husband, now?
Mrs. Ford.
He's a birding, sweet Sir John.
Mrs. Page. [within]
What, hoa, gossip Ford! what,
hoa!
Mrs. Ford.
Step into the chamber, Sir John.
[Exit Falstaff.
Enter Mistress Page.
Mrs. Page.
How now, sweet heart, who's at home, besides
yourself?
Mrs. Ford.
Why none but mine own people.
Mrs. Page.
Indeed?
Mrs. Ford.
No, certainly—Speak louder.
Mrs. Page.
Truly I am glad you have nobody here.
Mrs. Ford.
Why?
Mrs. Page.
Why, woman, your husband is in his old
lunes, again; he so takes on, yonder, with my husband,
so rails against all married mankind; I am glad the fat
knight is not here.
Mrs. Ford.
Why, does he talk of him?
Mrs. Page.
Of none but him, and swears he was carried
out, the last time he searched for him, in a basket;
protests to my husband he is now here; and hath drawn
him and the rest of their company from their sport, to
make another experiment of his suspicion; but I am
-- 56 --
glad the knight is not here; now he shall see his own
foolery.
Mrs. Ford.
How near is he, Mrs. Page?
Mrs. Page.
Hard by, at street's end, he will be here
anon.
Mrs. Ford.
I am undone: the knight is here.
Mrs. Page.
Why then thou art utterly shamed, and
he's but a dead man. What a woman are you! away
with him, away with him: better shame than murder.
Mrs. Ford.
Which way should he go? How should I
bestow him, shall I put him into the basket, again?
Enter Falstaff.
Fal.
No, I'll come no more i'th' basket:
May I not go out, ere he come?
Mrs. Page.
Alas, alas, three of Master Ford's brothers
watch the door, with pistols, that none should issue
out; otherwise you might slip away, ere he came: but
what make you here?
Fal.
I'll creep up into the chimney.
Mrs. Ford.
There they always used to discharge their
birding pieces; creep into the kill-hole.
Fal.
Where is it?
Mrs. Ford.
He will seek there, on my word; neither
press, coffer, chest, trunk, well, vault, but he hath an
abstract for the remembrance of such places, and goes
to them by his note; there is no hiding you in the
house.
Fal.
Ill go out, then.
Mrs. Ford.
If you go out in your own semblance, you
die, Sir John, unless you go out disguised. How might
we disguise him?
Mrs. Page.
Alas the day, I know not: there is no
woman's gown big enough for him, otherwise he might
put on a hat, a muffler, and a kerchief, and so escape.
Fal.
Good heart, devise something; any extremity,
rather than mischief.
Mrs. Ford.
My maid's aunt, the fat woman of Brentford,
has a gown above.
-- 57 --
Mrs. Page.
On my word, it will serve him; she's as
big as he is; and there's her thrumb hat, and her muffler
too. Run up, Sir John.
Mrs. Ford.
Go, go, sweet Sir John; Mrs. Page and I
will look some linen for your head.
Mrs. Page.
Quick, quick, we'll come dress you
straight; put on the gown the while.
[Exit Falstaff.
Mrs. Ford.
I would my husband would meet him in
this shape: he cannot abide the old woman of Brentford;
he swears she's a witch, forbade her my house, and hath
threatened to beat her. But is my husband coming?
Mrs. Page.
Ay, in good sadness is he, and talks of
the basket too, however he hath had intelligence.
Mrs. Ford.
We'll try that; for I'll appoint my men
to carry the basket again, to meet him at the door with
it, as they did last time.
Mrs. Page.
Nay, but he'll be here, presently; let's go
dress him like the witch of Brentford.
Mrs. Ford.
I'll first direct my men what they shall do
with the basket; go up, I'll bring linen for him, straight.
[Exit Mrs. Page.
Mrs. Ford.
Here, John, Robert. Go, sirs, take the
basket again on your shoulders; your master is hard at
door; if he bid you set it down, obey him; quickly,
dispatch.
[Exit Mrs. Ford.
Servants take up the basket.
Enter Ford, Shallow, Page, Caius, and Evans.
Ford.
Ay, but if it prove true, Master Page, have you
any way then to unfool me again? Set down the basket,
villains; somebody, call my wife: youth in a basket!
Oh you pandarly rascals, there's a knot, a gang, a pack,
a conspiracy against me! now shall the devil be shamed.
What, wife! I say; come, come forth, behold what honest
cloaths you send forth to bleaching.
Page.
Why this is extravagance, Master Ford; you
are not to go loose, any longer; you must be pinioned.
Eva.
Why this is lunatics; this is mad as a mad
dog.
-- 58 --
Shal.
Indeed, Master Ford, this is not well, indeed.
Ford.
So say I too, sir. [Ent. Mrs. Ford.] Come hither,
Mistress Ford, Mistress Ford, the honest woman, the
modest wife, the virtuous creature, that hath the jealous
fool to her husband: I suspect without cause, mistress,
do I?
Mrs. Ford.
Heav'n be my witness, you do, if you
suspect me in any dishonesty.
Ford.
Well said, brazen-face, hold it out: come forth,
sirrah.
[Pulls the cloaths out of the basket.
Mrs. Ford.
Are you not ashamed? Let the cloaths
alone.
Ford.
I shall find you, anon.
Eva.
'Tis unreasonable; will you take up your
wife's* note cloaths? Come away.
Ford.
Empty the basket, I say.
Mrs. Ford.
Why, man, why?
Ford.
Master Page, as I am a man, there was one conveyed
out of my house, yesterday, in this basket; why
may not he be there again? In my house I am sure he
is; my intelligence is true, my jealousy is reasonable,
pluck me out all the linen.
Mrs. Ford.
If you find a man there, he shall die a
flea's death.
Page.
Here's no man.
Shal.
By my fidelity, this is not well, Master Ford;
this wrongs you.
Eva.
Master Ford, you must pray, and not follow the
imaginations of your own heart; this is jealousies.
Ford.
Well, he is not here I seek for.
Page.
No, nor no where else, but in your brain.
Ford.
Help to search my house, this one time; if I
find not what I seek, shew no colour for my extremity;
let me for ever be your table-sport; let them say of me,
“as jealous as Ford, that searched a hollow walnut for
his wife's love.” Satisfy me, once more, once more
search with me.
-- 59 --
Mrs. Ford.
What hoa, Mistress Page! come you and
the old woman down; my husband will come into the
chamber.
Ford.
Old woman! what old woman's that?
Mrs. Ford.
Why, it is my maid's aunt of Brentford.
Ford.
A witch, a quean, an old cozening quean! have
I not forbid her my house? she comes of errands, does
she? Come down, you witch, you hag you, come down,
I say.
Mrs. Ford.
Nay, good sweet husband; good gentlemen,
let him not strike the old woman.
Enter Falstaff, in womens cloaths* note.
Mrs. Page.
Come, mother Prat, come, give me your
hand.
Ford.
I'll Prat her, out of my door, you witch, [beats
him]—you hag, you baggage, you polecat, out, out,
out; I'll conjure you, I'll fortune-tell you.
[Exit Falstaff.
Mrs. Page.
Are you not ashamed?
I think you have kill'd the poor woman.
Mrs. Ford.
Nay, he will do it; 'tis a goodly credit
for you.
Ford.
Hang her, witch.
Eva.
By yea and no, I think the 'oman is a witch, indeed:
I like not when a 'oman has a great peard: I spy
a great peard under her muffler.
Ford.
Will you follow, gentlemen? I beseech you
follow; see but the issue of my jealousy; if I cry out
thus upon no trail, never trust me when I open again.
Page.
Let's obey his humour, a little further:
Come, gentlemen.
[Exeunt.
Mrs. Page.
Trust me, he beat him most pitifully.
Mrs. Ford.
Nay, by the mass, that he did not; he
beat him most unpitifully, methought.
Mrs. Page.
I'll have the cudgel hallowed, and hung
o'er the altar; it hath done meritorious service.
-- 60 --
Mrs. Ford.
What think you? May we, with the warrant
of woman-hood, and the witness of a good conscience,
pursue him with any further revenge?
Mrs. Page.
The spirit of wantonness is sure scared
out of him.
Mrs. Ford.
Shall we tell our husbands how we have
served him?
Mrs. Page.
Yes, by all means; if it be but to scrape
the figures out of your husband's brain. If they can
find in their hearts the poor unvirtuous fat knight shall
be any farther afflicted, we two will still be the ministers.
Mrs. Ford.
I'll warrant, they'll have him publicly
shamed; and methink there would be no period to the
jest, should he not be publicly shamed.
Mrs. Page.
Come, to the forge with it, then shape it.
I would not have things cool.
[Exeunt.
SCENE II.
The Garter Inn.
Enter Host and Bardolph.
Bard.
Sir, the German desires to have three of your
horses; the duke himself will be to-morrow at court,
and they are going to meet him.
Host.
What duke should that be comes so secretly? I
hear not of him in the court: let me speak with the
gentlemen; they speak English.
Bar.
Sir, I'll call them to you.
Host.
They shall have my horses; but I'll make them
pay; I'll sawce them. They have had my house a week
at command, I have turned away my other guests; they
must compt off; I'll sawce them; come.
[Exeunt.* note
SCENE III.
Ford's House.
Enter Page, Ford, Mistress Page, Mistress Ford, and Evans.
Eva.
'Tis one of the best discretions of a 'oman, as
ever I did look upon.
-- 61 --
Page.
And did he send you both these letters, at an
instant?
Mrs. Page.
Within a quarter of an hour.
Ford.
Pardon me, wife; henceforth, do what thou wilt:
I rather will suspect the sun with cold,
Than thee with wantonness; now doth thy honour stand,
In him that was of late an heretic,
As firm of faith.
Page.
'Tis well, 'tis well; no more.
Be not as extreme in submission as in offence,
But let our plot go forward: let our wives,
Yet once again, to make us public sport,
Appoint a meeting with this old fat fellow,
Where we may take him, and disgrace him for it.
Ford.
There is no better way than that they spoke of.
Page.
How? to send him word they'll meet him in
the park, at midnight? Fy, fy, he'll never come.
Eva.
You say he hath been thrown into the river;
and hath been grievously peaten, as an old 'oman; methinks,
there should be terrors in him, that he should not
come; methinks his flesh is punished, he shall have no
desires.
Page.
So think I too.
Mrs. Ford.
Devise but how you'll use him when he
comes; and let us two devise to bring him thither.
Mrs. Page.
There is an old tale goes, that Herne the hunter,
Sometime a keeper here in Windsor forest,
Doth all the winter time, at still of midnight,
Walk round about an oak, with ragged horns;
You've heard of such a spirit, and well you know
The superstitious idle-headed Eld* note
Receiv'd, and did deliver to our age,
This tale of Herne the hunter, for a truth.
Page.
Why yet there want not many, that do fear
In deep of night to walk by this Herne's oak;
But what of this?
Mrs. Ford.
Marry, this is our device,
That Falstaff at this oak shall meet with us.
-- 62 --
Page.
Well, let it not be doubted but he'll come.
And in this shape when you have brought him hither,
What shall be done with him? What is your plot?
Mrs. Page.
That likewise we have thought upon* note.
Eva.
Let us about it;
It is admirable pleasures, and ferry honest knaveries.
[Exeunt Page, Ford, and Evans.
SCENE IV.
The Garter Inn.
Enter Host and Simple.
Host.
What wouldst thou have, boor? what, thick-skin?
speak, breathe, discuss; brief, short, quick, snap.
Simp.
Marry, sir, I come to speak with Sir John Falstaff,
from Mr. Slender.
Host.
There's his chamber, his house, his castle, his
standing-bed and truckle-bed; 'tis painted about with
the story of the Prodigal, fresh and new: go, knock
and call! he'll speak like an Anthropophaginian unto
thee: knock, I say.
Simp.
There's an old woman, a fat woman, gone up
into his chamber; I'll be so bold as to stay, sir, till she
come down; I come to speak with her, indeed.
Host.
Ha! a fat woman? the knight may be robb'd:
I'll call. Bully knight! bully Sir John! speak from
thy lungs military: art thou there? It is thine Host,
thine Ephesian, calls.
Enter Falstaff.
Fal.
How now, mine Host?
Host.
Here's a Bohemian Tartar tarries the coming
down of thy fat woman: let her descend, bully, let her
descend; my chambers are honourable: fy, privacy! fy.
Fal.
There was, mine host, an old fat woman even
now with me; but she's gone.
Simp.
Pray you, sir, was't not the wise woman of
Brentford?
-- 63 --
Fal.
Ay, marry was it, mussel-shell* note, what would you
with her?
Simp.
My master, sir, my master Slender, sent to her,
seeing her go thro' the street, to know, sir, whether one
Nym, sir, that beguil'd him of a chain, had the chain
or no.
Fal.
I spake with the old woman about it.
Simp.
And what says she, I pray, sir?
Fal.
Marry, she says, that the very same man that beguil'd
Master Slender of his chain, cozen'd him of it.
Simp.
I would I could have spoken with the woman
herself. I had other things to have spoken with her too;
from him.
Fal.
What are they? let us know.
Host.
Ay, come; quick.
Simp.
I may not conceal them, sir.
Host.
Conceal 'em, or thou dy'st.
Simp.
Why, sir, they were nothing but about Mistress
Anne Page, to know if it were my master's fortune to
have her or no.
Fal.
'Tis, 'tis his fortune.
Simp.
What, sir?
Fal.
To have her, or no: go, say the woman told me
so.
Simp.
May I be so bold to say so, sir?
Fal.
Ay, sir; like who more bold.
Simp.
I thank your worship: I shall make my master
glad with these tidings.
[Exit Simp.
Host.
Thou art clerkly; thou art clerkly, Sir John:
was there a wise woman with thee?
Fal.
Ay, that there was, mine Host, one that hath
taught me more wit, than ever I learn'd before, in my
life; and I paid nothing for it neither, but was paid for
my learning. [Exit Host.] If it should come to the
ear of the court, how I have been transformed, and how
my transformation hath been washed and cudgeled, they
would melt me out of my fat, drop by drop, and liquor
fishermens boots with it. I warrant, they would whip
-- 64 --
me with their fine wits, till I were as crest-fal'n as a
dry'd pear. I never prosper'd since I foreswore myself
at Primero. Well, if my wind were but long enough to
say my prayers, I would repent. Now, whence come
you?
Enter Mistress Quickly.
Quic.
From the two parties, forsooth.
Fal.
The devil take one party, and his dam the other,
and so they shall be both bestowed; I have suffered more
for their sakes, more than the villainous inconstancy of
man's disposition is able to bear.
Quic.
And have not they suffered? yes, I warrant,
speciously one of them; Mistress Ford, good heart, is
beaten black and blue, that you cannot see a white spot
about her.
Fal.
What tell'st thou me of black and blue! I was
beaten myself into all the colours of the rain-bow; and I
was like to be apprehended for the witch of Brentford;
but that my admirable dexterity of wit, counterfeiting
the action of a mad woman, delivered me, the knave
constable had set me i'th' stocks, i'th' common stocks, for
a witch.
Quic.
Sir, let me speak with you, in your chamber;
you shall hear how things go, and, I warrant, to your
content. Here is a letter will say somewhat. Good
hearts, what ado is here to bring you together!
Fal.
Come up into my chamber.
[Exeunt.* note
-- 65 --
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].
