Falstaff, and exeunt.
-- 68 --
Enter Page, Ford, &c. They lay hold of him* note.
Page.
Nay, do not fly, I think we have watch'd you now:
Will none but Herne the hunter serve your turn?
Mrs. Page.
I pray you, come; hold up the jest no higher.
Now, good Sir John, how like you Windsor wives?
See you these husbands? Do not these fair yokes
Become the forest better than the town?
Ford.
Now, sir, who's a cuckold, now?
Master Brook, Falstaff's a knave, a cuckoldly knave,
Here are his horns, Master Brook.
And, Master Brook, he hath enjoy'd nothing of Ford's,
but his buck-basket, his cudgel, and twenty pounds of
money, which must be paid to Master Brook; his horses
are arrested for it, Master Brook.
Mrs. Ford.
Sir John, we have had ill luck we could
never meet. I will never take you for my love again,
but I will always count you my deer.
Fal.
I do begin to perceive that I am made an ass.
Ford.
Ay, and an ox too: both the proofs are extant.
Fal.
And these are not Fairies:
I was three or four times in the thought they were not
Fairies, and yet the guiltiness of my mind, the sudden
surprize of my powers, drove the grossness of the foppery
into a received belief, that they were Fairies. See now,
how wit may be made a-Jack-a-lent, when 'tis upon
ill employment.
Eva.
Sir John Falstaff, serve heav'n, and leave your
desires, and Fairies will not pinse you.
Ford.
Well said, Fairy Hugh.
Eva.
And leave your jealousies too, I pray you.
Ford.
I will never mistrust my wife again, 'till thou
art able to woo her in good English.
-- 69 --
Fal.
Have I laid my brain in the sun and dry'd it,
that it wants matter to prevent so gross o'er-reaching as
this? Am I ridden with a Welsh goat, too? 'Tis time
I were choak'd with a piece of toasted cheese.
Eva.
Seese is not good to give putter; your belly is
all putter.
Fal.
Seese and putter? Have I liv'd to stand in the
taunt of one that makes fritters of English?
Mrs. Page.
Why, Sir John, do you think, though we
would have thrust virtue out of our hearts by the head
and shoulders, that ever the devil could have made you
our delight?
Mrs. Ford.
What a hodge pudding? A bag of flax?
Mrs. Page.
A puft man?
Page.
Old, cold, wither'd, and of intolerable entrails?
Ford.
And one that is as slanderous as Satan?
Page.
Old, and as poor as Job?
Ford.
And as wicked as his wife?
Eva.
And given to fornications, and to taverns, and
sack, and wine, metheglins, and to drinkings, and swearings,
starings, pribbles and prabbles?
Fal.
Well, I am your theme; you have the start of
me, I am dejected; I am not able to answer the Welsh
flannel: ignorance itself is a plummet o'er me, use me as
you will.
Ford.
Marry, sir, we'll bring you to Windsor, to one
Mr. Brook, that you have cozen'd of money, to whom
you should have been a pandar: over and above that
you have suffer'd, I think to repay the money will be
a biting affliction.
Page.
Yet be cheerful, Knight, thou shalt eat a posset,
to-night, at my house, where I will desire thee to laugh at
my wife, that now laughs at thee. Tell her, Mr. Slender
hath marry'd her daughter.
Mrs. Page.
Doctors doubt that;
If Anne Page be my daughter, she is, by this, Doctor
Caius's wife.
Enter Slender.
Slen.
What hoe! hoe! Father Page!
-- 70 --
Page.
Son? How now? How now, son?
Have you dispatch'd!
Slen.
Dispatch'd? I'll make the best in Gloucestershire
know on't; would I were hang'd-la, else.
Page.
Of what, son?
Slen.
I came yonder at Eaton to marry Mistress Anne
Page, and she's a great lubberly boy. If it had not been
i'th' church, I would have swing'd him, or he should have
swing'd me. If I did not think it had been Anne Page,
would I might never stir, and 'tis a post-master's boy.
Page.
Upon my life then you took the wrong.
Slen.
What need you tell me that? I think so, when
I took a boy for a girl; if I had been marry'd to him,
for all he was in woman's apparel, I would not have had
him.
Page.
Why, this is your own folly.
Did not I tell you how you should know my daughter by
her garments?
Slen.
I went to her in white, and cry'd mum, and she
cry'd budget, as Anne and I had appointed; and yet it
was not Anne, but a post-master's boy.
Mrs. Page.
Good George, be not angry; I knew of
your purpose, turn'd my daughter into green, and indeed
she is now with the Doctor at the Deanry, and
there married.
Enter Caius* note.
Caius.
Vere is Mistress Page? by gar, I am cozen'd; I
ha' marry'd one garsoon, a boy; one peasant, by gar.
A boy; it is not Anne Page; by gar, I am cozen'd.
Mrs. Page.
Why, did you take her in green?
Caius.
Ay, by gar, and 'tis a boy; by gar, I'll raise
all Windsor.
Ford.
This is strange! who hath got the right Anne?
Page.
My heart misgives me; here comes Mr. Fenton.
Enter Fenton and Anne Page.
How now, Mr. Fenton?
-- 71 --
Anne.
Pardon, good father; good my mother, pardon.
Page.
Now, mistress,
How chance you went not with Mr. Slender?
Mrs. Page.
Why went you not with Mr. Doctor, maid?
Fent.
You do amaze her. Hear the truth of it.
You would have marry'd her most shamefully,
Where there was no proportion held in love:
The truth is, she and I, long since contracted,
Are now so sure that nothing can dissolve us* note
Ford.
Stand not amaz'd; here is no remedy.
In love, the heavens themselves do guide the state;
Money buys lands, and wives are sold by fate.
Fal.
I am glad, tho' you have ta'en a special stand to
strike at me, that your arrow hath glanc'd.
Page.
Well, what remedy? Fenton, heav'n give thee joy!
What cannot be eschew'd, must be embrac'd.
Fal.
When night-dogs run, all sorts of deer are chac'd.
Mrs. Page.
Well, I will muse no further, Mr. Fenton.
Heav'n give you many, many merry days!
Good husband, let us every one go home,
And laugh this sport o'er, by a country fire,
Sir John and all.
Ford.
Let it be so, Sir John:
To Master Brook you yet shall hold your word;
For he to-night shall lie with Mistress Ford.
[Exeunt omnes.† note
