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 III.
Enter Falstaff, with a Buck's head on.
Fal.
The Windsor bell hath struck twelve, the minute
draws on; now, the hot-blooded Gods assist me!
Remember, Jove, thou wast a bull for thy Europa;
love set on thy horns. Oh powerful love! that, in
some respects, makes a beast a man; in some other, a
man a beast: You were also, Jupiter, a swan, for the
love of Leda: Oh, omnipotent love! how near the
God drew to the complexion of a goose? A fault done
first in the form of a beast,—O Jove, a beastly fault;
-- 341 --
and then another fault in the semblance of a fowl:—
think on't, Jove, a foul fault. When Gods have hot
backs, what shall poor men do? for me, I am here a
Windsor stag, and the fattest, I think, i'th' forest. Send
me a cool rut-time, Jove, or who can blame me to piss
my tallow? who comes here? my Doe?
Enter Mistress Ford and Mistress Page.
Mrs. Ford.
Sir John? art thou there, my deer? my
male-deer?
Fal.
My doe with the black scut? let the sky rain
potatoes; let it thunder to the tune of Green-Sleeves;
hail kissing-comfits, and snow eringoes; let there
come a tempest of provocation, I will shelter me here.
Mrs. Ford.
Mistress Page is come with me, sweet
heart.
Fal.
Divide me like a (a) note bribe-buck, each a
haunch; I will keep my sides to myself, my shoulders
for the fellow of this walk, and my horns I bequeath
your husbands. Am I a woodman, ha? Speak I like
Herne the hunter? why, now is Cupid a child of conscience,
he makes restitution. As I am a true spirit,
welcome!
[Noise within.
Mrs. Page.
Alas! what noise?
Mrs. Ford.
Heav'n forgive our sins!
Fal.
What should this be?
Mrs. Ford. Mrs. Page.
Away, away.
[The women run out.
Fal.
I think the devil will not have me damn'd, lest
the oil that is in me should set hell on fire; he never
would else cross me thus.
-- 342 --
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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