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Alexander Pope [1747], The works of Shakespear in eight volumes. The Genuine Text (collated with all the former Editions, and then corrected and emended) is here settled: Being restored from the Blunders of the first Editors, and the Interpolations of the two Last: with A Comment and Notes, Critical and Explanatory. By Mr. Pope and Mr. Warburton (Printed for J. and P. Knapton, [and] S. Birt [etc.], London) [word count] [S11301].

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SCENE II. Enter Page, Shallow, and Slender.

Shal.

How now, master Parson? good morrow, good Sir Hugh. Keep a gamester from the dice, and a good student from his book, and it is wonderful.

Slen.

Ah, sweet Anne Page!

Page.

Save you, good Sir Hugh.

Eva.

'Pless you from his mercy-sake, all of you.

Shal.

What? the sword and the word? do you study them both, Mr. Parson?

Page.

And youthful still, in your doublet and hose, this raw-rheumatick day?

Eva.

There is reasons and causes for it.

Page.

We are come to you, to do a good office, Mr. Parson.

Eva.

Ferry well: what is it?

Page.

Yonder is a most reverend gentleman, who, belike, having receiv'd wrong by some person, is at most odds with his own gravity and patience, that ever you saw.

Shal.

I have liv'd fourscore years, and upward; I never heard a man of his place, gravity and learning, so wide of his own respect.

Eva.

What is he?

Page.

I think, you know him; Mr. Doctor Caius, the renowned French physician.

Eva.

Got's will, and his passion of my heart! I had as lief you should tell me of a mess of porridge.

Page.

Why?

Eva.

He has no more knowledge in Hibocrates and Galen; and he is a knave besides; a cowardly knave as you would desire to be acquainted withal.

Page.

I warrant you, he's the man should fight with him.

Slen.

O, sweet Anne Page!

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