Mistress Ford.
Fal.
Mistress Ford, your sorrow hath eaten up my
sufferance. I see you are obsequious in your love, and
I profess requital to a hair's breadth; not only, Mistress
Ford, in the simple office of love, but in all the accoutrement,
complement, and ceremony of it. But are you sure
of your husband now?
Mrs Ford.
He's a-birding, sweet Sir John.
Mrs Page. [Within]
What, ho, gossip Ford! what, ho!
Mrs Ford.
Step into the chamber, Sir John.
[Exit Falstaff.
Enter Mistress Page.
Mrs Page.
How now, sweetheart! who's at home besides
yourself?
Mrs Ford.
Why, none but mine own people.
Mrs Page.
Indeed!
Mrs Ford.
No, certainly. [Aside to her] Speak louder.
Mrs Page.
Truly, I am so glad you have nobody here.
Mrs Ford.
Why?
Mrs Page.
Why, woman, your husband is in his old
lunes note again: he so takes on yonder with my husband; so
rails against all married mankind; so curses all Eve's
daughters, of what complexion soever; and so buffets himself
on the forehead, crying, ‘Peer out, peer out!’ that any
madness I ever yet beheld seemed but tameness, civility,
and patience, to this his distemper he is in now: I am glad
the fat knight is not here.
-- 226 --
Mrs Ford.
Why, does he talk of him?
Mrs Page.
Of none but him; and swears he was carried
out, the last time he searched for him, in a basket;
protests to my husband he is now here; and hath drawn
him and the rest of their company from their sport, to make
another experiment of his suspicion: but I am glad the
knight is not here; now he shall see his own foolery.
Mrs Ford.
How near is he, Mistress Page?
Mrs Page.
Hard by; at street note end; he will be here anon.
Mrs Ford.
I am undone!—the knight is here.
Mrs Page.
Why, then, you are utterly shamed, and
he's but a dead man. What a woman are you!—Away
with him, away with him! better shame than murder.
Mrs Ford.
Which way should he go? how should I
bestow him? Shall I put him into the basket again?
Re-enter Falstaff. note
note
Fal.
No, I'll come no more i' the basket. May I not
go out ere he come?
Mrs Page.
Alas, three of Master Ford's brothers watch
the door with pistols note, that none shall issue out; otherwise
you might slip away ere he came. But what make you
here?
Fal.
What shall I do?—I'll creep up into the chimney.
Mrs Ford.
There they always use to discharge their
birding-pieces. Creep into the kiln-hole note.
Fal.
Where is it?
Mrs Ford.
He will seek there, on my word. Neither
press, coffer, chest, trunk, well, vault, but he hath an abstract
for the remembrance of such places, and goes to
them by his note: there is no hiding you in the house.
Fal.
I'll go out, then.
Mrs Page note.
If you go out in your own semblance, you
die, Sir John. Unless you go out disguised,—
-- 227 --
Mrs Ford note.
How might we disguise him?
Mrs Page.
Alas the day, I know not! There is no
woman's gown big enough for him; otherwise he might put
on a hat, a muffler, and a kerchief, and so escape.
Fal.
Good hearts, devise something: any extremity
rather than a mischief note.
Mrs Ford.
My maid's aunt, the fat woman of Brentford note,
has a gown above.
Mrs Page.
On my word, it will serve him; she's as big
as he is: and there's her thrummed note hat, and her muffler
too. Run up, Sir John.
Mrs Ford.
Go, go, sweet Sir John: Mistress Page and
I will look some linen for your head.
Mrs Page.
Quick, quick! we'll come dress you straight:
put on the gown the while.
[Exit Falstaff.
Mrs Ford.
I would my husband would meet him in
this shape: he cannot abide the old woman of Brentford note;
he swears she's a witch; forbade her my house, and hath
threatened to beat her.
Mrs Page.
Heaven guide him to thy husband's cudgel,
and the devil guide his cudgel afterwards!
Mrs Ford.
But is my husband coming?
Mrs Page.
Ay, in good sadness, is he; and talks of
the basket too, howsoever he hath had intelligence.
Mrs Ford.
We'll try that; for I'll appoint my men to
carry the basket again, to meet him at the door with it, as
they did last time.
Mrs Page.
Nay, but he'll be here presently: let's go
dress him like the witch of Brentford note.
Mrs Ford.
I'll first direct my men what they shall do
with the basket. Go up; I'll bring linen for him straight.
[Exit.
Mrs Page.
Hang him, dishonest varlet! we cannot misuse
him note enough.
We'll leave a proof, by that which we will do,
-- 228 --
Wives may be merry, and yet honest too:
We do not act that often jest and laugh;
'Tis old, but true,—Still swine eat all the draff.
[Exit.
Re-enter Mistress Ford with two Servants.
Mrs Ford.
Go, sirs, take the basket again on your
shoulders: your master is hard at door; if he bid you set it
down, obey him: quickly, dispatch.
[Exit.
First Serv.
Come, come, take it up.
Sec. Serv.
Pray heaven it be not full of knight note again.
First Serv.
I hope not; I had as lief note bear so much lead.
noteEnter Ford, Page, Shallow, Caius, and Sir Hugh Evans.
Ford.
Ay, but if it prove true, Master Page, have you
any way then to unfool me again? Set down the basket,
villain note! Somebody call my wife. Youth in a basket note!—O
you panderly rascals! there's a knot, a ging note, a pack, a conspiracy
against me: now shall the devil be shamed note.—What,
wife note, I say!—Come, come forth! Behold what honest
clothes you send forth to bleaching!
Page.
Why, this passes, Master Ford; you are not to
go loose any longer; you must be pinioned.
Evans.
Why, this is lunatics! this is mad as a mad
dog!
Shal.
Indeed, Master Ford, this is not well, indeed.
Ford.
So say I too, sir.
Re-enter Mistress Ford.
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?
-- 229 --
Mrs Ford.
Heaven be my witness you do, if you suspect
me in any dishonesty.
Ford.
Well said, brazen-face! hold it out. Come forth,
sirrah!
[Pulling clothes out of the basket.
Page.
This passes!
Mrs Ford.
Are you not ashamed? let the clothes alone.
Ford.
I shall find you anon.
Evans.
'Tis unreasonable! Will you take up your
wife's clothes? Come away.
Ford.
Empty the basket, I say!
Mrs Ford.
Why, man, why?
Ford.
Master Page, as I am a man, there was one conveyed
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.
Evans.
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 nowhere else but in your brain.
Ford.
Help to search my house this one time. If I
find not what I seek, show no colour for my extremity; let
me for ever be your table-sport; let them say of me, ‘As
jealous as Ford, that searched a hollow walnut for his wife's
leman.’ Satisfy me once more; once more search with me.
Mrs Ford.
What, ho, 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 Brentford note.
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 the figure, and such daubery as
-- 230 --
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 gentlemen,
let him not note strike the old woman.
noteRe-enter Falstaff in woman's clothes note, and Mistress Page.
Mrs Page.
Come, Mother Prat; come, give me your
hand.
Ford.
I'll prat her. [Beating him] Out of my door,
you witch, you hag note, you baggage, you polecat, you ronyon!
out, out! I'll conjure you, I'll fortune-tell you.
[Exit Falstaff.
Mrs Page.
Are you not ashamed? I think you have
killed the poor woman.
Mrs Ford.
Nay, he will do it. 'Tis a goodly credit for
you.
Ford.
Hang her, witch!
Evans.
By yea and no note, I think the 'oman is a witch indeed:
I like not when a 'oman note has a great peard; I spy a
great peard under his note muffler.
Ford.
Will you follow, gentlemen? I beseech you,
follow; see but the issue of my jealousy: if I cry out thus
upon no trail note, never trust me when I open again.
Page.
Let's obey his humour a little further: come,
gentlemen.
[Exeunt Ford, Page, Shal., Caius, and Evans.
Mrs Page.
Trust me, he beat him most pitifully.
Mrs Ford.
Nay, by the mass, that he did not; he beat
him most unpitifully methought.
Mrs Page.
I'll have the cudgel hallowed and hung
o'er the altar; it hath done meritorious service.
Mrs Ford.
What think you? may we, with the warrant
of womanhood and the witness of a good conscience, pursue
him with any further revenge?
-- 231 --
Mrs Page.
The spirit of wantonness is, sure, scared
out of him: if the devil have him not in fee-simple, with
fine note and recovery, he will never, I think, in the way of
waste, attempt us again.
Mrs Ford.
Shall we tell our husbands how we have
served him?
Mrs Page.
Yes, by all means; if it be but to scrape
the figures out of your husband's brains note. If they can find
in their hearts the poor unvirtuous fat knight shall be any
further afflicted, we two will still be the ministers.
Mrs Ford.
I'll warrant they'll have him publicly
shamed: and methinks there would be no period note to the
jest note, should he not be publicly shamed.
Mrs Page.
Come, to the forge with it, then; shape it: note
I would not have things cool.
[Exeunt.
note
William Aldis Wright [1863–1866], The works of William Shakespeare edited by William George Clark... and John Glover [and William Aldis Wright] (Macmillan and Co., London) [word count] [S10701].
