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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 XI. Manent Mistress Page and Mistress Ford.

Mrs. Page.

Is there not a double excellency in this?

Mrs. Ford.

I know not which pleases me better, that my husband is deceiv'd, or Sir John.

Mrs. Page.

What a taking was he in, when your husband ask'd who was in the basket!

Mrs. Ford.

I am half afraid he will have need of washing; so throwing him into the water will do him a benefit.

-- 309 --

Mrs. Page.

Hang him, dishonest rascal; I would, all of the same strain were in the same distress.

Mrs. Ford.

I think, my husband hath some special suspicion of Falstaff's being here! I never saw him so gross in his jealousie till now.

Mrs. Page.

I will lay a plot to try that, and we will yet have more tricks with Falstaff: his dissolute disease will scarce obey this medicine.

Mrs. Ford.

Shall we send that foolish carrion, mistress Quickly, to him, and excuse his throwing into the water, and give him another hope, to betray him to another punishment?

Mrs. Page.

We'll do it; let him be sent for to-morrow by eight a clock, to have amends.

Re-enter Ford, Page, &c.

Ford.

I cannot find him; may be, the knave brag'd of that he could not compass.

Mrs. Page.

Heard you that?

Mrs. Ford.

I, I; peace:—You use me well, master Ford, do you?

Ford.

Ay, ay, I do so.

Mrs. Ford.

Heav'n make you better than your thoughts!

Ford.

Amen.

Mrs. Page.

You do your self mighty wrong, Mr. Ford.

Ford.

Ay, ay; I must bear it.

Eva.

If there be any pody in the house, and in the chambers, and in the coffers, and in the presses, heav'n forgive my sins!

Caius.

By gar, nor I too; there is no bodies.

Page.

Fie, fie, Mr. Ford, are you not asham'd? what spirit, what devil suggests this imagination? I would not ha' your distemper in this kind, for the wealth of Windsor Castle.

Ford.

'Tis my fault, Mr. Page: I suffer for it.

-- 310 --

Eva.

You suffer for a pad conscience; your wife is as honest a o'mans, as I will desires among five thousand, and five hundred too.

Caius.

By gar, I see, 'tis an honest woman.

Ford.

Well, I promis'd you a dinner; come, come, walk in the park. I pray you, pardon me; I will hereafter make known to you, why I have done this. Come, wife; come, mistress Page; I pray you pardon me: pray heartily, pardon me.

Page.

Let's go in, gentlemen; but trust me, we'll mock him. I do invite you to morrow morning to my house to breakfast; after, we'll a birding together; I have a fine hawk for the bush. Shall it be so?

Ford.

Any thing.

Eva.

If there is one, I shall make two in the company.

Caius.

If there be one or two, I shall make-a de turd.

Eva.

In your teeth, for shame.

Ford.

Pray you go, Mr. Page.

Eva.

I pray you now, remembrance to morrow on the lousie knave, mine Host.

Caius.

Dat is good, by gar, with all my heart.

Eva.

A lousie knave, to have his gibes, and his mockeries.

[Exeunt.
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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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