Robin.
Mrs. Page.
Nay, keep your way, little gallant;
you were wont to be a follower, but
now you are a leader. Whether had you rather lead
mine eyes, or eye your master's heels?
Rob.
I had rather, forsooth, go before you like a
man, than follow him like a dwarf.
Mrs. Page.
O, you are a flattering boy; now
you'll be a Courtier.
Enter Ford.
Ford.
Well met, mistress Page; whither go you?
Mrs. Page.
Truly, Sir, to see your wife; is she at
home?
Ford.
Ay; and as idle as she may hang together,
for want of company; I think if your husbands were
dead, you two would marry.
Mrs. Page.
Be sure of that, two other husbands.
Ford.
Where had you this pretty weather-cock?
Mrs. Page.
I cannot tell what the dickens his name
is my husband had him of: what do you call your
Knight's name, sirrah?
Rob.
Sir John Falstaff.
Ford.
Sir John Falstaff?
Mrs. Page.
He, he; I can never hit on's name;
there is such a league between my good man and he.
Is your wife at home, indeed?
Ford.
Indeed, she is.
Mrs. Page.
By your leave, Sir; I am sick, 'till I see
her.
[Exeunt Mrs. Page and Robin.
Ford.
Has Page any brains? hath he any eyes? hath
he any thinking? sure, they sleep; he hath no use of
them. Why, this boy will carry a letter twenty mile,
as easy as a cannon will shoot point-blank twelve-score;
he pieces out his wife's inclination; he gives her folly
motion and advantage; and now she's going to my
-- 265 --
wife, and Falstaff's boy with her. A man may hear
this shower sing in the wind: and Falstaff's boy with
her! good plots; they are laid, and our revolted
wives share damnation together. Well, I will take
him, then torture my wife; pluck the borrowed vail
of modesty from the so seeming mistress Page, divulge
Page himself for a secure and wilful Acteon, and to these
violent proceedings all my neighbours shall cry aim.
The clock gives me my cue, and my assurance bids
me search; there I shall find Falstaff: I shall be rather
praised for this, than mocked; for it is as positive as
the earth is firm, that Falstaff is there: I will go.
To him, Enter Page, Shallow, Slender, Host, Evans, and Caius.
Shal. Page, &c.
Well met, Mr. Ford.
Ford.
Trust me, a good knot: I have good cheer at
home, and, I pray you, all go with me.
Shal.
I must excuse my self, Mr. Ford.
Slen.
And so must I, Sir; we have appointed to dine
with Mrs. Anne, and I would not break with her for
more mony than I'll speak of.
Shal.
We have linger'd about a match between Anne
Page and my cousin Slender, and this day we shall have
our answer.
Slen.
I hope, I have your good will, father Page.
Page.
You have, Mr. Slender; I stand wholly for you;
but my wife, master Doctor, is for you altogether.
Cai.
Ay, by gar, and de maid is love-a-me: my
nursh-a-Quickly tell me so mush.
Host.
What say you to young Mr. Fenton? he capers,
he dances, he has eyes of youth, he writes
verses, he speaks holy-day, he smells April and May;
he will carry't, he will carry't; 'tis in his buttons, he
will carry't.
Page.
Not by my consent, I promise you: the Gentleman
is of no Having, he kept company with the wild
Prince and Poinz: he is of too high a region, he knows
too much; no, he shall not knit a knot in his fortunes
with the finger of my substance. If he take her,
-- 266 --
let him take her simply; the wealth I have waits on
my consent, and my consent goes not that way.
Ford.
I beseech you, heartily, some of you go home
with me to dinner; besides your cheer you shall have
sport; I will shew you a monster. Mr. Doctor, you
shall go; so shall you, Mr. Page; and you, Sir Hugh.
Shal.
Well, fare you well: we shall have the freer
wooing at Mr. Page's.
Caius.
Go home, John Rugby, I come anon.
Host.
Farewel, my hearts; I will to my honest Knight
Falstaff, and drink canary with him.
Ford.
I think, I shall drink in Pipe-wine first with
him: I'll make him dance. Will you go, gentles?
All.
Have with you, to see this monster.
[Exeunt.
Lewis Theobald [1733], The works of Shakespeare: in seven volumes. Collated with the Oldest Copies, and Corrected; With notes, Explanatory and Critical; By Mr. Theobald (Printed for A. Bettesworth and C. Hitch [and] J. Tonson [etc.], London) [word count] [S11201].
