Eva.

'Tis one of the best discretions of 'oman, as ever I did look upon.

Page.

And did he send you both these letters at an instant?

Mrs. Page.

Within a quarter of an hour.

Ford.
Pardon me, wife. Henceforth do what thou wilt;
I rather will suspect the sun with cold,
Than thee with wantonness; thy honour stands,
In him that was of late an heretick,
As firm as faith.

Page.
'Tis well, 'tis well; no more.
Be not as extream in submission, as in offence;
But let our plot go forward: let our wives
Yet once again, to make us publick sport,
Appoint a meeting with this old fat fellow,
Where we may take him, and disgrace him for it.

Ford.

There is no better way than that they spoke of.

Page.

How? to send him word they'll meet him in the park at midnight? fie, fie, he'll never come.

Eva.

You say, he hath been thrown into the river; and has been grievously peaten, as an old 'oman; methinks, there should be terrors in him, that he should not come; methinks, his flesh is punish'd, he shall have no desires.

Page.

So think I too.

Mrs. Ford.
Devise but how you'll use him, when he comes;
And let us two devise to bring him thither.

Mrs. Page.
There is an old tale goes, that Herne the hunter,

Sometime a keeper here in Windsor forest,
Doth all the winter-time at still of midnight
Walk round about an oak, with ragged horns;
And there he blasts the tree, and takes the cattle;
And makes milch-kine yield blood, and shakes a chain
In a most hideous and dreadful manner.
You've heard of such a spirit; and well you know,
The superstitious idle-headed Eld
Receiv'd, and did deliver to our age,
This tale of Herne the hunter for a truth.

Page.
Why, yet there want not many, that do fear
In deep of night to walk by this Herne's oak;
But what of this?

Mrs. Ford.
Marry, this is our device,
That Falstaff at that oak shall meet with us.
We'll send him word to meet us in the field,
Disguised like Herne, with huge horns on his head.

Page.
Well, let it not be doubted, but he'll come.
And in this shape when you have brought him thither,
What shall be done with him? what is your plot?

Mrs. Page.
That likewise we have thought upon, and thus:
Nan Page, (my daughter) and my little son,
And three or four more of their growth, we'll dress
Like urchins, ouphes, and fairies, green and white,
With rounds of waxen tapers on their heads,
And rattles in their hands; upon a sudden,
As Falstaff, she, and I, are newly met,
Let them from forth a saw-pit rush at once
^{3 note}With some diffused song: upon their sight,
We two, in great amazedness, will fly;
Then let them all encircle him about,
^{4 note}
And fairy-like too, pinch the unclean knight;

And ask him, why, that hour of fairy Revel,
In their so sacred paths he dares to tread
In shape prophane?

Mrs. Ford.
And 'till he tell the truth,
Let the supposed fairies pinch him round,
And burn him with their tapers.

Mrs. Page.
The truth being known,
We'll all present our selves; dis-horn the spirit,
And mock him home to Windsor.

Ford.
The children must
Be practis'd well to this, or they'll ne'er do't.

Eva.

I will teach the children their behaviours; and I will be like a jack-anapes also, to burn the knight with my taber.

Ford.

This will be excellent. I'll go buy them vizards.

Mrs. Page.
My Nan shall be the Queen of all the fairies;
Finely attired in a robe of white.

Page.
^{5 note}That silk will I go buy, and in that time
Shall Mr. Slender steal my Nan away, [Aside.
And marry her at Eaton. Go, send to Falstaff straight.

Ford.

Nay, I'll to him again in the name of Brook; he'll tell me all his purpose. Sure, he'll come.

Mrs. Page.

Fear not you that; go get us properties and tricking for our fairies.

Eva.

Let us about it, it is admirable pleasures, and ferry honest knaveries.