SCENE I.
Before Page's house.
Enter Mistress Page with a letter.
Mistress Page.
What, have I 'scap'd love-letters in
the holy-day-time of my beauty, and am I now a
subject for them? Let me see:
Ask me no reason why I love you; for 9 note
though love use
-- 255 --
reason for his precisian, he admits him not for his counsellor:
You are not young, no more am I; go to then, there's
sympathy: you are merry, so am I; Ha! ha! then there's
more sympathy: you love sack, and so do I; Would you
desire better sympathy? let it suffice thee, mistress Page,
(at the least, if the love of a soldier can suffice) that I love
thee. I will not say, pity me, 'tis not a soldier-like phrase;
but I say, love me. By me,
Thine own true knight,
By day or night1 note
,
Or any kind of light,
With all his might,
For thee to fight.
John Falstaff.
-- 256 --
What a Herod of Jewry is this?—O wicked, wicked
world!—one that is well nigh worn to pieces with
age, to shew himself a young gallant! What an unweigh'd
behaviour2 note has this Flemish drunkard pick'd
(with the devil's name) out of my conversation, that
he dares in this manner assay me? Why, he hath
not been thrice in my company!—What should I
say to him?—3 noteI was then frugal of my mirth:—
heaven forgive me!—Why, I'll exhibit 4 note
a bill in
-- 257 --
the parliament for the putting down of men. How
shall I be reveng'd on him? for reveng'd I will be, as
sure as his guts are made of puddings.]
Enter Mistress Ford.
Mrs. Ford.
Mistress Page! trust me, I was going
to your house.
Mrs. Page.
And, trust me, I was coming to you.
You look very ill.
Mrs. Ford.
Nay, I'll ne'er believe that; I have to
shew to the contrary.
Mrs. Page.
'Faith, but you do, in my mind.
Mrs. Ford.
Well, I do then; yet, I say, I could
shew you to the contrary: O, mistress Page, give
me some counsel!
Mrs. Page.
What's the matter, woman?
Mrs. Ford.
O woman, if it were not for one trifling
respect, I could come to such honour!
-- 258 --
Mrs. Page.
Hang the trifle, woman; take the honour:
What is it?—dispense with trifles;—what is it?
Mrs. Ford.
If I would but go to hell for an eternal
moment, or so, I could be knighted.
Mrs. Page.
5 note
What?—thou liest!—Sir Alice Ford!
-- 259 --
—These knights will hack; and so thou shouldst
not alter the article of thy gentry.
Mrs. Ford.
We burn day-light6 note
:—here, read,
read;—perceive how I might be knighted.—I shall
think the worse of fat men, as long as I have an eye
to make difference of men's liking: And yet he would
not swear; prais'd women's modesty; and gave such
orderly and well-behaved reproof to all uncomeliness,
that I would have sworn his disposition would have
gone to the truth of his words: but they do no more
adhere, and keep place together, than the hundredth
psalm to the tune of Green Sleeves7 note
. What tempest,
-- 260 --
I trow, threw this whale, with so many tuns of oil in
his belly, ashore at Windsor? How shall I be reveng'd
on him? I think, the best way were to entertain
him with hope, 'till the wicked fire of lust
have melted him in his own grease.—Did you ever
hear the like?
Mrs. Page.
Letter for letter; but that the name of
Page and Ford differs!—To thy great comfort in this
mystery of ill opinions, here's the twin-brother of thy
letter: but let thine inherit first; for, I protest, mine
never shall. I warrant, he hath a thousand of these
letters, writ with blank space for different names,
(sure more) and these are of the second edition: He
will print them out of doubt; for he cares not what
he puts into the 8 notepress, when he would put us two.
I had rather be a giantess, and lie under mount Pelion.
Well, I will find you twenty lascivious turtles,
ere one chaste man.
Mrs. Ford.
Why, this is the very same; the very
hand, the very words: What doth he think of us?
Mrs. Page.
Nay, I know not: It makes me almost
ready to wrangle with mine own honesty. I'll
entertain myself like one that I am not acquainted
withal; for, sure, unless he knew 9 note
some strain in
-- 261 --
me, that I know not myself, he would never have
boarded me in this fury.
Mrs. Ford.
Boarding, call you it? I'll be sure to
keep him above deck.
Mrs. Page.
So will I; if he come under my hatches,
I'll never to sea again. Let's be reveng'd on him:
let's appoint him a meeting; give him a show of
comfort in his suit; and lead him on with a fine
baited delay, till he hath pawn'd his horses to mine
Host of the Garter.
Mrs. Ford.
Nay, I will consent to act any villainy
against him, that may not fully the chariness of our
honesty1 note. Oh, that my husband saw this letter2 note! it
would give eternal food to his jealousy.
Mrs. Page.
Why, look, where he comes; and my
good man too: he's as far from jealousy, as I am from
giving him cause; and that, I hope, is an unmeasurable
distance.
Mrs. Ford.
You are the happier woman.
Mrs. Page.
Let's consult together against this greasy
knight: Come hither.
[They retire.
Enter Ford with Pistol, Page with Nym.
Ford.
Well, I hope, it be not so.
Pist.
Hope is a 3 note
curtail-dog in some affairs:
Sir John affects thy wife.
-- 262 --
Ford.
Why, Sir, my wife is not young.
Pist.
He wooes both high and low, both rich and poor,
Both young and old, one with another, Ford;
He loves thy gally-mawfry4 note
9Q0126; Ford, perpend5 note
.
Ford.
Love my wife?
Pist.
With liver burning hot: Prevent, or go thou,
Like Sir Actæon he, with Ring-wood at thy heels:—
O, odious is the name.!
Ford.
What name, Sir?
Pist.
The horn, I say: Farewel.
Take heed; have open eye; for thieves do foot by night:
Take heed, ere summer comes, or6 note cuckoo-birds do sing.—
7 note
Away, sir corporal Nym.—
-- 263 --
Believe it, Page; he speaks sense.
[Exit Pistol.
Ford.
I will be patient; I will find out this.
Nym. [Speaking to Page.]
And this is true; I like
not the humour of lying. He hath wrong'd me in
some humours: I should have borne the humour'd
letter to her; but 8 note
I have a sword, and it shall bite
upon my necessity. He loves your wife; there's
the short and the long. My name is corporal Nym;
I speak, and I avouch. 'Tis true:—my name is
Nym, and Falstaff loves your wife.—Adieu! I love
not the humour of bread and cheese; and there's the
humour of it. Adieu.
[Exit Nym.
-- 264 --
Page.
9 note
The humour of it, quoth a'! here's a fellow
frights humour out of its wits.
Ford.
I will seek out Falstaff.
Page.
I never heard such a drawling, affecting
rogue.
Ford.
If I do find it, well.
Page.
1 note
I will not believe such a Cataian, though
-- 265 --
the priest o' the town commended him for a true
man.
-- 266 --
Ford.
'Twas a good sensible fellow2 note: Well.
Page.
How now, Meg?
Mrs. Page.
Whither go you, George?—Hark you.
Mrs. Ford.
How now, sweet Frank? why art thou
melancholy?
Ford.
I melancholy! I am not melancholy.—Get
you home, go.
Mrs. Ford.
Faith, thou hast some crotchets in thy
head now.—Will you go, mistress Page?
Mrs. Page.
Have with you.—You'll come to dinner,
George?—Look, who comes yonder: she shall
be our messenger to this paltry knight.
[Aside to Mrs. Ford.
Enter Mistress Quickly.
Mrs. Ford.
Trust me, I thought on her: she'll fit it.
-- 267 --
Mrs. Page.
You are come to see my daughter Anne?
Quic.
Ay, forsooth; And, I pray, how does good
mistress Anne?
Mrs. Page.
Go in with us, and see; we have an
hour's talk with you.
[Ex. Mrs. Page, Mrs. Ford, and Mrs. Quickly.
Page.
How now, master Ford?
Ford.
You heard what this knave told me; did
you not?
Page.
Yes; And you heard what the other told me?
Ford.
Do you think there is truth in them?
Page.
Hang 'em, slaves! I do not think the knight
would offer it: but these, that accuse him in his intent
towards our wives, are a yoke of his discarded men;
3 notevery rogues, now they be out of service.
Ford.
Were they his men?
Page.
Marry, were they.
Ford.
I like it never the better for that.—Does he
lie at the Garter?
Page.
Ay, marry, does he. If he should intend
his voyage towards my wife, I would turn her loose
to him; and what he gets more of her than sharp
words, let it lie on my head.
Ford.
I do not misdoubt my wife; but I would be
loth to turn them together: A man may be too confident:
I would have nothing lie on my head9Q0127: I cannot
be thus satisfied.
Page.
Look, where my ranting host of the Garter
comes: there is either liquor in his pate, or money
in his purse, when he looks so merrily.—How, now,
mine host?
-- 268 --
Enter Host, and Shallow.
Host.
How, now, bully-rook? thou'rt a gentleman:
cavalero-justice4 note
, I say.
Shal.
I follow, mine host, I follow.—Good even,
and twenty, good master Page! Master Page, will
you go with us? we have sport in hand.
Host.
Tell him, cavalero-justice; tell him, bully-rook?
Shal.
Sir, there is a fray to be fought, between sir
Hugh the Welch priest, and Caius the French doctor.
Ford.
Good mine host o' the Garter, a word with
you.
Host.
What say'st thou, bully-rook?
[They go a little aside.
Shal. [To Page]
Will you go with us to behold
it? My merry host hath had the measuring of their
weapons; and, I think, he hath appointed them contrary
places: for, believe, me, I hear, the parson is no
jester. Hark, I will tell you what our sport shall be.
Host.
Hast thou no suit against my knight, my
guest-cavalier?
Ford.
None, I protest: but I'll give you a pottle
of burnt sack to give me recourse to him, 5 note
and tell
him, my name is Brook, only for a jest.
Host.
My hand, bully: thou shalt have egress and
-- 269 --
regress; said I well6 note
? and thy name shall be Brook:
It is a merry knight.—7 note
Will you go an-heirs?
Shal.
Have with you, mine host,9Q0128
Page.
I have heard, the Frenchman hath good skill
in his rapier.
Shal.
Tut, sir, I could have told you more: In
these times you stand on distance, your passes, stoccado's,
and I know not what: 'tis the heart, master
Page; 'tis here, 'tis here. I have seen the time, with
my 8 note
long sword, I would have made you four tall
fellows9 note skip like rats.
-- 270 --
Host.
Here, boys, here, here! shall we wag?
Page.
Have with you:—I had rather hear them
scold than fight.
[Exeunt Host, Shallow, and Page.
Ford.
Though Page be a secure fool, 1 note
and stand
-- 271 --
so firmly on his wife's frailty,9Q0129 yet I cannot put off
my opinion so easily: She was in his company at
Page's house; and, what they made there, I know
not. Well, I will look further into't: and I have a
disguise to sound Falstaff: If I find her honest, I lose
not my labour; if she be otherwise, 'tis labour well
bestow'd.
[Exit.
Samuel Johnson [1778], The plays of William Shakspeare. In ten volumes. With the corrections and illustrations of various commentators; to which are added notes by Samuel Johnson and George Steevens. The second edition, Revised and Augmented (Printed for C. Bathurst [and] W. Strahan [etc.], London) [word count] [S10901].
