Mrs Ford.

What, John! What, Robert!

Mrs Page.

Quickly, quickly!—is the buck-basket—

Mrs Ford.

I warrant. What, Robin, I say!

Mrs Page.

Come, come, come.

Mrs Ford.

Here, set it down.

Mrs Page.

Give your men the charge; we must be brief.

Mrs Ford.

Marry, as I told you before, John and Robert ^note, be ready here hard by in the brew-house; and when I suddenly call you, come forth, and, without any pause or staggering, take this basket on your shoulders: that done, trudge with it in all haste, and carry it among the whitsters in Datchet-mead, and there empty it in the muddy ditch close by the Thames side.

Mrs Page.

You will do it?

Mrs Ford.

I ha' told them over and over; they lack no direction. Be gone, and come when you are called.

Mrs Page.

Here comes little Robin.

Mrs Ford.

How now, my eyas-musket! what news with you?

Rob.

My master, Sir John, is come in at your ^note back-door, Mistress Ford, and requests your company.

Mrs Page.

You little Jack-a-Lent, have you been true to us?

Rob.

Ay, I'll be sworn. My master knows not of your being here, and hath threatened to put me into everlasting liberty, if I tell you of it; for he swears he'll turn me away.

Mrs Page.

Thou'rt a good boy: this secrecy of thine shall be a tailor to thee, and shall make thee a new doublet and hose. I'll go hide me.

Mrs Ford.

Do so. Go tell thy master I am alone. [Exit Robin.] Mistress Page, remember you your cue.

Mrs Page.

I warrant thee; if I do not act it, hiss me.

Mrs Ford.

Go to, then: we'll use this unwholesome humidity, this gross watery pumpion; we'll teach him to know turtles from jays.

Fal.

‘Have I caught’ thee ^note, ‘my heavenly jewel?’ Why, now let me die, for I have lived long enough: this is the period of my ^note ambition: O this blessed hour!

Mrs Ford.

O sweet Sir John!

Fal.

Mistress Ford, I cannot cog, I cannot prate, Mistress ^note Ford. Now shall I sin in my wish: I would thy husband were dead: I'll speak it before the best lord; I would make thee my lady.

Mrs Ford.

I your lady, Sir John! alas, I should be a pitiful lady!

Fal.

Let the court of France show me such another. I see how thine eye would emulate the diamond: thou hast the right arched beauty of the brow that becomes the shiptire, the tire-valiant ^note, or any tire of Venetian admittance ^note.

Mrs Ford.

A plain kerchief, Sir John: my brows become nothing else; nor that well neither.

Fal.

By the Lord, thou art a traitor ^note to say so: thou wouldst make an absolute courtier; and the firm fixture ^note of thy foot would give an excellent motion to thy gait in a semi-circled

farthingale. I see what thou wert, if Fortune thy foe were not, Nature ^note thy friend. Come, thou canst not hide it.

Mrs Ford.

Believe me, there's no such thing in me.

Fal.

What made me love thee? let that persuade thee there's ^note something extraordinary in thee. Come, I cannot cog, and say thou art this and that, like a many of these lisping hawthorn-buds, that come like women in men's apparel, and smell like Bucklersbury in simple ^note time; I cannot: but I love thee; none but thee; and thou deservest it.

Mrs Ford.

Do not betray me, sir. I fear you love Mistress Page.

Fal.

Thou mightst as well say I love to walk by the Counter-gate, which is as hateful to me as the reek of a lime-kiln.

Mrs Ford.

Well, heaven knows how I love you; and you shall one day find it.

Fal.

Keep in that mind; I'll deserve it.

Mrs Ford.

Nay, I must tell you, so you do; or else I could not be in that mind.

Rob. [Within ^note]

Mistress Ford, Mistress Ford! here's Mistress Page at the door, sweating ^note, and blowing, and looking wildly, and would needs speak with you presently.

Fal.

She shall not see me: I will ensconce me behind the arras.

Mrs Ford.

Pray you, do so: she's a very tattling woman.