Robin.
Mrs. Page.
Nay, keep your way, little gallant;
you were wont to be a follower,
but now you are a leader. Whether had you
rather lead mine eyes, or eye your master's heels?
Rob.
I had rather, forsooth, go before you like a
man, than follow him like a dwarf.
Mrs. Page.
O, you are a flattering boy; now, I see
you'll be a Courtier.
-- 299 --
Enter Ford.
Ford.
Well met, mistress Page; whither go you?
Mrs. Page.
Truly, Sir, to see your wife; is she at
home?
Ford.
Ay; and as idle as she may hang together,
for want of company; I think, if your husbands were
dead, you two would marry.
Mrs. Page.
Be sure of that, two other husbands.
Ford.
Where had you this pretty weather-cock?
Mrs. Page.
I cannot tell what the dickens his name
is my husband had him of: what do you call your
Knight's name, sirrah?
Rob.
Sir John Falstaff.
Ford.
Sir John Falstaff?
Mrs. Page.
He, he; I can never hit on's name;
there is such a league between my good man and he.
Is your wife at home, indeed?
Ford.
Indeed, she is.
Mrs. Page.
By your leave, Sir; I am sick, 'till I
see her.
[Exeunt Mrs. Page and Robin.
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].
