Ford.

Ay, but if it prove true, master Page, have you any way then to unfool me again?—Set down the basket, villain;—somebody call my wife—youth— In a basket! oh, you panderly rascals! there's a knot, a gang, a pack, a conspiracy, against me: now shall the devil be sham'd. What! wife, I say; come, come forth, behold what honest cloaths you send forth to bleaching.

Page.

Why, this passes, master Ford—you are not to go loose any longer, you must be pinnion'd.

Eva.

Why, this is lunaticks; this is mad as a mad dog.

Shal.

Indeed, master Ford, this is not well, indeed.

Ford.

So say I too, Sir. 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.

Page.

This passes—

Mrs. Ford.

Are you not asham'd? let the cloaths alone.

Ford.

I shall find you anon.

Eva.

'Tis unreasonable; will you take up your wife's 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 convey'd 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.^{7 note}

Eva.

Master Ford, you must pray, and not follow the imaginations of your own heart; this is jealousies.

Ford.

Well, he's 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 search'd a hollow wall-nut for his wife's leman. Satisfy me once more, once more search with me.

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 Brainford.

Ford.

A witch, a quean, an old cozening quean; have I not forbid her my house? she comes of errands. does she? we are simple men, we do not know what's brought to pass under the profession of fortune-telling. She works by charms, by spells, by th' figure; and such dawbry as this is beyond our element; we know

nothing. Come down, you witch; you hag you, come down, I say.

Mrs. Ford.

Nay, good sweet husband; good gentleman, let him not strike the old woman.