Caius.

Jack Rugby.

Rug.

Sir?

Caius.

Vat is de Clock, Jack?

Rug.

'Tis past the hour, Sir, that Sir Hugh promis'd to meet.

Caius.

Begar, he is save his Soul, dat he is no come; by gar Jack Rugby he is dead already if he be come.

Rug.

He is wise, Sir, he knew your Worship wou'd kill him if he came.

Caius.

Begar, de Herring is no dead, so as I vill kill him, take your Rapier Jack, I vill tell you how I vill kill him.

Rug.

Alas, Sir, I cannot Fence.

Caius.

Villany, take your Rapier.

Rug.

Forbear, here's company.

Host.

Bless thee, Bully Doctor!

Shall.

Save you, Mr Doctor Caius.

Page.

Now, good Mr Doctor.

Slen.

Give you good morrow, Sir.

Caius.

Vat be all you, one, two, tree, four, come for?

Host.

To see thee fight, to see thee foign, to see thee traverse, to see thee here, to see thee there, to see thee pass thy Puncto, thy Stock, thy Reverse, thy distance, thy Montan—Is he dead, my Æthiopian? Is he dead, my Francisco? Ha Bully? What says my Æsculapius, my Galen, my Heart of Elder? Ha! Is he dead Bully Stale? Is he dead?

Caius.

Begar, he is de Coward Jack Priest of de Vorld, he is not show his face.

Host.

Thou art a Castalian King, Urinal, Hector of Greece, my Boy.

Caius.

I pray you bear witness dat me have stay here six or seven, two or three hours for him and he is not come.

Shall.

He is de wiser man, Mr Doctor, he is a curer of Souls, and you a curer of Bodies, if you should fight, you go against the Hair of your Professions It is not true, Master Page?

Page.

Master Shallow, you have been yourself a great fighter, tho now a man of Peace

Shall.

Bodikins, Mr Page, tho now I be old and of peace, if I see a Sword out, my finger itches to make one. Tho we are Justices and Doctors and Churchmen, Mr Page, we have some Salt of our Youth in us, we are the Sons of Women, Mr Page.

Page.

'Tis true, Mr Shallow.

Shallow.

It will be found so, Mr Page. Mr Doctor Caius, I am come to fetch you home, I am sworn of the Peace, you have shewn yourself a wise Physician, and Sir Hugh hath shewn himself a wise and patient Churchman, you must go with me, Mr Doctor.

Host.

Pardon, guest Justice, a Monsieur Mockwater.

Caius.

Mockwater? Vat is dat?

Host.

Mockwater in our English Tongue is Valour Bully.

Caius.

Bygar, den I have as much Mockwater as de English man, scurvy Jack. Dog Priest: Bygar me vill cut his Ears.

Host.

He will clapperclaw thee tightly, Bully.

Caius.

Clapper de claw? vat is dat?

Host.

That is, he will make thee amends.

Caius.

Bygar, me do look he shall clapper de claw me, for bygar me vil have it.

Host.

And I will provoke him to it, or let him wag.

Cai.

Me tanck you for dat.

Host.

And moreover, Bully, but first Mr Justice and Mr Page, thou Cavalier Slender, go you thro the Town to Frogmore.

Page.

Sir Hugh is there still, is he?

Host.

He is there, see what humour he is in, and I will bring the Doctor about the Fields, will it do well?

Shall.

We will do it.

All

Adieu, good Mr Doctor.

Caius.

Begar me will kill de Priest? for he speak for a Jackanape to Ann Page?

Host.

Let him die: Sheath thy impatience, throw cold water on thy Choler: go about the Fields with me to Frogmore, I will bring thee where Mrs Ann Page is at a Farmhouse a Feasting, and thou shall court her; said I well, my Lad?

Cai.

Begar me danck you vor dat; bygar I love you, and I shall procure a you de good guest, de Earl, de Knight, de Lords, de Gentlemen my Patients.

Host.

For the which I will be thy Adversary towards Ann Page, said I well!

Caius.

Begar 'tis good, vell said.

Host.

Let us wag then.

Caius.

Come at my Heels, Jack Rugby.

Ford.

Nay, 'tis your own I protest, Sir John?

Falst.

Nay, Master Broom this must not be; I will serve you in the business that you speak of without it.

Ford.

Twenty pound Sir John, is but a trifle, and I am not of the humour to trouble my Friends for nothing, Sir!

Falst.

By no means, Sir?

Ford.

Nay, good Sir John.

Falst.

Nay, as I'm a Gentleman, as I'm a Gentleman, I am not Mercenary, how much is the summ say you.

Ford.

Twenty pound, come, you shall take it indeed, Sir John.

Falst.

Sir you are a perfect Stranger to me.

Ford.

Nay, 'tis in vain to struggle.

Falst.

Sir, I shall not take it.

Ford.

You must.

Falst.

Upon my Knighthood I cannot.

Ford.

Why then there's ten more, Sir John.

Falst.

Nay, what do mean, Master Broom? Why will you offer this?

Ford.

Upon my credit 'tis all I have about me.

Falst.

Well, I am weak, I'm weak, I'm overpowr'd; but in troth I have reason to be abash'd at this. Is it all Sterling, Master Broom?

Ford.

'Tis all good upon my word, Sir John, and once more I am sorry that being a perfect Stranger to you.

Falst.

No Apologies, good Master Broom, I will serve you with Fords Wife with a very good will, and I am glad of your acquaintance heartily do you see; for the sake of you money do you see?

Ford.

you are infinitely obliging indeed, Sir John.

Falst.

Mine Host tells me, that you are an honest Man, Master Broom; and a whimsical Fool and a Gull, Master Broom.

Ford.

I hope, Sir John, that you will find me no otherwise.

Falst.

In good faith, I am satisfied that I shall not. The Face we know commonly speaks the man: Now your Phyznomy, not to flatter you, Master Broom, speaks you to be honest and downright—Fool, Master Broom.

Ford.

I hope, Sir, my inside will never give my outside the Lye.

Falst.

Your mind and your face say the same thing, Master Broom.

Ford.

But so much for compliments, Sir John.

Falst.

I would that you could but look into my Soul, you would find, Master Broom, that I am no complimenter, you would find that I have that esteem for you, which you justly deserve, tho I say it, you would find something that would surprize you; you would e'faith: And as for Fords Wife, upon my Knighthood I will do you all the service I can with her; but that I may know my business a little better, let us come to Repetition a little, you are in Love you say with Fords Wife.

Ford.

Extremely, Sir.

Falst.

And you have lov'd her long?

Ford.

Above these 10 years.

Drawer.

Sir, Mrs Dorothy Tear-Sheet would speak with you.

Ford.

Sir John, at present I take my leave of you.

Falst.

That I must not suffer, Sir, this civil Gentlewoman that is now without, is the Mother of the Maids to Venus, and she comes at present Embassadress, about a certain affair of Love, Master Broom! Step but for a moment into the next Room, and she shall be dispatched in a trice.

Ford.

You hold your own, Sir John, you are the Womens man still.

Falst.

In troth, we are not altogether despicable, we can be sought after still, Master Broom; in spight of the grinning rawbon'd Rogue, that carries the Rusty Scythe.

Doll.

Well, Sir John?

Falst.

Well, my dear Doll? What news, poor Jade, what news?

Doll.

News, Sirrah! News that will make thy old sinful Heart go pit a pat, blessed news!

Falst

Disclose, Doll, disclose.

Doll.

I come from Mrs Ford.

Falst.

Ha! well on, Mrs Ford you say?

Doll.

Hearkee! your Ear, Sirrah.

Falst.

It needs not Doll, it needs not, there is no Body near.

Doll.

No matter for that, secrets of this nature must be whisper'd.

Falst.

Well! come then, Mrs Ford, what of her?

Doll.

Well! She's the very best natur'd creature Breathing? Ah you little Wag, you little wanton Puppy!

Falst.

Mrs Ford, come Mrs Ford.

Doll.

Stay, let me see, turn about. Ah Rogue! Ah Devil? There's the face and the shape that have done it.

Falst.

But what says she? But what says she? be brief, my good She Mercury.

Doll.

Why, she has received your Letter.

Falst.

Humph! Well!

Doll.

And she says that her Husband—

Falst.

Well! What of him?

Doll.

Well! he's a scurvy filthy Fellow, she can't abide him, she can't endure him, so peevish, so jealous, she leads a cursed life with him, she passes her time in a damnable manner with him.

Falst.

And I too, a plague on him and I too; but to the purpose, Doll, to the purpose, good Doll.

Doll.

Why, she says that her Husband will go out between three and four.

Falst.

Between two and three, sayst thou?

Doll.

I say between three and four, and then she says she will meet you—

Falst.

Ay, marry, where Doll?

Doll.

At the Pyed Bull by the Thames side.

Falst

Humph! at the Pyed Bull between three and four, Doll commend me to her, and tell her I will not fail her.

Doll.

But I have a message to you from Mrs Page too.

Falst.

Ha! Well, and what says she?

Doll.

What says she? why she's certainly out of her Senses, the Woman's bewitch'd, she'll ne're be herself as long as she Breathes agen. Ah, you young cursed Rampant Dog? we must e'en have you tied up; e faith we must Jack, if you run at your Neighbours Mutton thus. She says you shall hear of her before to morrow.

Falst.

Well, commend me to them both. There s my Purse, and I am yet thy Debtor.

Falst.

This news distracts me. Ha! Sayst thou so old Jack; I'll make more of thy old Body than I have done, will they yet look after thee? Wilt thou after the expence of so much Money be now a Gamer, good Body I thank thee. Let them say it is grosly done; so it be fairly done, no matter. Ah, ah, Mrs Ford and Mrs Page, have I encompass'd you? Go to, via. Soho, Master Broom.

Falst.

Come, Master Broom, now the coast is clear, let us return to our Repetition again, you love Mrs Ford, you say?

Ford.

Extreamly!

Falst.

And you have loved her long?

Ford

These ten years.

Falst.

And you have follow'd her like any Dog?

Ford.

I have indeed.

Falst.

And you have hunted her like any Deer?

Ford.

I have indeed.

Falst.

Sometimes she has kept out of sight, sometimes she has run in view.

Ford.

She has so.

Falst.

But when you have come up with her, she has still kept you off, with Oh my Virtue! Oh my Honour! Oh my dear Matrimonial Vow.

Ford.

Her very words.

Falst.

But—a—hold you me! Ay, you have conceiv'd a shrewd suspicion, that while she has been keeping you at Bay thus, some slyer Curs have come in with her Haunches.

Ford.

Ay, there lies the business.

Falst.

Ha, ha, ha, ha!

Ford.

You are merry, Sir John.

Falst.

My Dame Ford's a wag, a very wag i'faith, Master Broom, she serves you, for all the world, Master Broom, as she does that Cuckoldly Rogue her Husband. Ha! ha! ha!

Ford. (aside)

Curse on him, does he know me?

Falst.

With that sniveling Gull, the Baggage passes for a Saint.

Ford.

Blood and Fire!

Falst.

What say you, Master Broom?

Ford.

I say, you speak to my Hearts desire, for as I told you before, Sir John, if I could but plainly detect her, if I could but prove that she has been false to Ford, why I should perfectly gain my point.

Falst.

As how, Master Broom, for that particular I have forgot?

Ford.

Why then, she can pretend Virtue and Honour no longer.

Falst.

And you tell me, that you have a conceit that I can be serviceable to you in this?

Ford.

I know, Sir John, you are a man of rare parts.

Falst.

Sir!

Ford.

Of singular Learning.

Falst.

Oh Sir!

Ford.

Of incomparable Address.

Falst.

Nay, good Master Broom.

Ford.

You pass for the chief Engineer of Love, Sir John.

Falst.

Sir, I have some tolerable skill in practical Mathematicks.

Falst.

Sir, I have some tolerable skill in pratical Mathematicks.

Ford.

There is no place but what you may attack with success, as knowing the strength and weakness of all. Now if you would but—

Falst.

What, Master Broom?

Ford.

Why, if you would but as it were—a—

Falst.

Come, I'll help you out, Pimp, for you you would say.

Ford.

Oh, Sir, I hope you don't think—

Falst.

Nay, no ceremony among Friends, Master Broom, I'll do't, I'll do't, if I do not, I am a circumciz'd Jew, you shall lie with Mrs Ford to night.

Ford.

To Night!

Falst.

I say to night.

Ford. (softly)

Oh the plaguy confounded Whore!

Falst.

What say you to it, Master Broom?

Ford.

I say you could never oblige me more. Why then Ford is already—

Falst.

A Cuckold, Master Broom.

Ford.

O the Devil! (aside) Nay, but without Jesting, Sir John!

Falst.

An errant downright stinking Cuckold.

Ford.

La lell tera loll doll doll. (sings eagerly.)

Falst.

Speak I well, Master Broom?

Ford.

Like an Angel, (aside) with a cloven Foot? and you are positive; ha! Sir John! (with a forc'd smile) dear Sir John! (aside) damn'd Sir John.

Falst.

Am I a Gentleman? Am I a Knight? Would I lye to my Bosom Friend?

Ford.

You do me too much Honour, Sir John, Oh sink your Bosom Friendship, you Dog! (aside) Why this (with a forc'd smile) is beyond my expectation! and you are sure of it?

Falst.

Are you sure that your name is Broom? Look you, Master Broom, Ford has it here, (laying his hand to Fords Forehead) I faith he has it here with a vengeance.

Ford.

Zounds you hurt me, (pushing away Falstaffe away rudely) why this is Rare! Is not this Rare?

Fal t.

Ay, for now thy Business is done.

Ford.

It is indeed, for which I am oblig'd to you, Sir John, and I shall return the obligation (aside) With my Tuck in your Guts, you Rogue.

Falst.

Ha! my little wag!

Ford.

Ha! ha! Sir John.

Falst.

At night, my sweet wag, at night!

Ford.

Ay, at night, at night, Sir John.

Falst.

Thou shalt have the Roguish opportunity.

Ford.

Ay, Sir John, the Blessed opportunity! (aside) to pierce your Sophisticated Hogs-head, you Dog.

Falst.

Ford has got the most Fortified Forehead, and the weakest Pericranium of any Cuckold upon Christian Ground. The Rogue shall Butt with any Bull of Bashan.

Ford.

Ware Horns then I say S'blood how the Villian maul'd my head!

Falst.

What's that, Master Broom?

Ford.

I say, you have roused me from the very Dead.

Falst.

Well, Master Broom, I must take leave of you, I must go Shave, I must go Rig. Come to me, do you see, at the Pyed Bull at Five.

Ford.

At the Pyed Bull, Sir John?

Falst.

The same.

Ford.

Why is it there that you meet?

Falst.

It is that old Squob Gentlewoman, that was here with me but now, appointed it.

Ford. (aside)

Why 'tis her own Brother who keeps that house. Do's he Pimp for his Sister? Why what a Devil of a Tribe am I matched into?

Falst.

Remember five, Master Broom.

Ford.

Do you think that I'll fail, Sir John.

Falst.

I will not think so scurvily of thee, I warrant thou art a true bred whelp, and anon at five to the Tantivy of Fords, Horn I'll enter you.

Ford.

Oh! Oh!—(aside.) I shall betray my self.

Falst.

Ha! you look pale, master Broom.

Ford.

That's with too much fire, Sir John.

Falst.

Has my Discourse warm'd you so?

Ford.

Set me all in a flame, Sir John.

Falst.

Ay, for now you have gain'd your point.

Ford.

I have, and therefore I'm grown impatient.

Falst.

Ah, ha, old Boy!

Ford.

I cannot conceal the transport you have raised in me.

Falst.

Go to, you're a wag, you're a wag.

Ford.

'Sheart, I believe I shall run distracted.

Falst.

Ha! ha! Letchery! Letchery, my own case, but now, my own case, but now.

Ford.

Adzounds, how I long for Night!

Falst.

Ah Rogue, thou art of the game, e'faith, little Broom!

Ford.

But, Sir, one thing I had almost forgot, how long has Ford been a Cuckold?

Falst.

Why, ever since the Knave his Father compounded him.

Ford.

What do you mean, Sir John?

Falst.

Why, he was got under Aries, and born under Capricorn, and the Rogue his Father made him a Cuckold, by lying with the Jade his Mother.

Ford.

Oh, I understand you, then as yet he is not actually a Cuckold? (aside.) Ha! I begin to recover a little: Then as yet he is not actually a Cuckold?

Falst.

Actually a Cuckold?

Ford.

Ay.

Falst.

Humph! Actually do you say?

Ford.

Ay! Answer me to that, Sir John.

Falst.

Why then, I do positively avouch—

Ford.

Ha!

Falst.

That he is actually a Cuckold.

Ford. (aside.)

'Sdeath! The old Dog has shot me quite thro the Head again.

Falst.

For mind you me, Master Broom, since Ford is a Cuckold by Destiny, which no man you know can avoid, he is one as it were, d'e see, actually.

Ford.

You are so arch one knows not where to have you, Sir John.

Falst.

You may find me about two hours hence between a pair of Sheets, at the Bull, Master Broom.

Ford.

With Ford's Wife? ha!

Falst. (aside.)

How eager this Fellow is: This is a very Goat: I will divert my self by raising his appetite. Not actually with her in these two arms, Mr. Broom, but stretching and panting in expectation of her, while she is stripping for the encounter. Now, Master Broom, do you fancy Ford's Wife undressing herself.

Ford.

To do that won'd make me mad, Sir John.

Falst.

Her Night Gown just slipping off.

Ford.

Nay, Sir John.

Falst.

Her under Petticoat falling about her Heels.

Ford.

Nay, good Sir John?

Falst.

Her Smock-sleeves loose about her Elbows.

Ford.

Nay, dear Sir John.

Falst.

And then her Lilly white Arm stretch'd out, and her milk white Rubbies display'd.

Ford.

Nay, blood and fire, Sir John!

Falst.

The Bed-cloaths just turning up.

Ford.

Oh—oh—oh—

Falst.

And one of the Buxome Legs advanc'd to the Bedstead.

Ford.

Oh! Devil, Devil, Devil!

Falst.
Well, I will have mercy, I will have mercy.
But be sure you remember four, Master Broom.

Ford.
Did you never see Ford, Sir John?

Falst.

Not that I know of, poor Cuckoldly Knave. Yet I wrong him to call him poor: They say the Jealous Wittally Knave has mountains of Money. For the which his Wife seems to me well favour'd. I will use her as the Key of the Cuckoldly Rogue's Coffer, and there's my Harvest Home.

Ford.

I wish you knew Ford tho, that you might avoid him if you saw him.

Falst.

Hang him, Mechanical Salt Butter Rogue: I will awe him with my Cudgel. It shall hang like a Meteor o're the Cuckolds Horns. Master Broom, thou shalt know I will predominate over the Peasant, and thou shalt lye with his Wife. Come to me at five. Ford's a Knave, and I will aggravate his style. Then, Master Broom, shalt thou know him for Knave and Cuckold. Fail not at five.