Ford.

Bless you, Sir.

Fal.

Now, master Brook, you come to know what hath pass'd between me and Ford's wife.

Fal.

That, indeed, Sir John, is my business.

Fal.

Master Brook, I will not lie to you; I was at her house the hour she appointed me.

Ford.

And you sped, Sir?

Fal.

Very ill-favour'dly, master Brook.

Ford.

How, Sir, did she change her determination?

Fal.

No, master Brook; but the peaking cornuto her husband, master Brook, dwelling in a continual larum of jealousy, comes me in the instant of our encounter; after we had embrac'd, kiss'd, protested, and as it were, spoke the prologue of our comedy; and at his heels a rabble of his companions, thither provok'd and instigated by his distemper, and, forsooth, to search his house for his wife's love.

Ford.

What, while you was there?

Fal.

While I was there.

Ford.

And did he search for you, and could not find you?

Fal.

You shall hear. As good luck would have it, comes in one mistress Page, gives intelligence of Ford's approach, and by her invention, and Ford's wife's distraction, they convey'd me into a buck-basket.

Ford.

A buck-basket?

Fal.

Yea, a buck-basket; ramm'd me in with foul shirts and smocks, socks, foul stockings, and greasy napkins; that, master Brook, there was the rankest

compound of villainous smell, that ever offended nostril.

Ford.

And how long lay you there?

Fal.

Nay, you shall hear, master Brook, what I have suffer'd to bring this woman to evil for your good. Being thus cramm'd in the basket, a couple of Ford's knaves, his hinds, were call'd forth by their mistress, to carry me in the name of foul cloaths to Datchet-lane; they took me on their shoulders, met the jealous knave their master in the door, who ask'd them once or twice what they had in their basket; I quak'd for fear, lest the lunatick knave would have search'd it; but fate, ordaining he should be a cuckold, held his hand. Well, on went he for a search, and away went I for foul cloaths; but mark the sequel, master Brook; I suffer'd the pangs of three egregious deaths: first, an intolerable fright, to be detected by a jealous rotten bell weather; next to be compass'd like a good bilbo,^{4 note} in the circumference of a peck, hilt to point, heel to head; and then to be stopt in, like a strong distillation, with stinking cloaths that fretted in their own grease: think of that, a man of my * ^notekidney; think of that, that am as subject to heat as butter; a man of continual dissolution and thaw; it was a miracle to 'scape suffocation. And in the height of this bath, when I was more than half stew'd in grease, like a Dutch dish, to be thrown into the Thames, and cool'd glowing hot, in that surge, like a horse-shoe; think of that; hissing hot; think of that, master Brook.

Ford.

In good sadness, Sir, I am sorry that for my sake you have suffer'd all this. My suit is then desperate; you'll undertake her no more?

Fal.

Master Brook, I will be thrown into Etna, as I have been into Thames, ere I will leave her thus. Her husband is this morning gone a birding; I have receiv'd

from her another embassy of meeting; 'twixt eight and nine is the hour, master Brook.

Ford.

'Tis past eight already, Sir.

Fal.

Is it? I will then address me to my appointment. Come to me at your convenient leisure, and you shall know how I speed; and the conclusion shall be crown'd with your enjoying her; adieu, you shall have her, master Brook; master Brook, you shall cuckold Ford.

Ford.

Hum! ha! is this a vision? is this a dream? do I sleep? master Ford, awake; awake, master Ford; there's a hole made in your best coat, master Ford; this 'tis to be married! this 'tis to have linen and buck-baskets!—Well, I will proclaim myself what I am; I will now take the leacher; he is at my house; he cannot 'scape me; 'tis impossible, he should; he cannot creep into a half-penny purse, nor into a pepper-box; but, lest the devil that guides him should aid him, I will search impossible places. Tho' what I am I cannot avoid, yet to be what I would not, shall not make me tame: if I have horns to make one mad, let the proverb go with me, ^{5 note}I'll be horn-mad.

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