Sir H.

'Tis one of the best discretions of a 'omans ^note as ever I did look upon.

Page.

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

M. Pa.

Within a quarter of an hour.

Ford.
Pardon me, wife: Henceforth do what thou wilt;

I rather will suspect the sun with cold ^note,
Than thee with wantonness: now doth thy honour stand,
In him that was of late an heretick,
As firm as faith ^note.

Page.
'Tis well, 'tis well; no more:
Be not as éxtream ^note 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! send him word,14Q0075 they'll meet him in the park
At midnight! fie, fie; he will never come.

Sir H.

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

Page.

So think I too.

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

M. Pa.
There is an old tale goes, that Herne the hunter,
Sometime a keeper here in Windsor forest,
Doth all the winter time, at still midnight ^note,
Walk round about an oak, with great jag'd ^note 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 have 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?

M. Fo.
Marry, this is our device;—
That Falstaff at that oak shall meet with us, ^note
Disguis'd like Herne, with huge horns on his head.

Page.
Well, let it not be doubted but he'll come,
And in this shape;14Q0076 When you have brought him thither,
What shall be done with him? what is your plot?

M. Pa.
That likewise have we 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
With some diffused song: upon their sight,
We two in great amazedness will fly:
Then let them all encircle him about,
And, fairy-like too, pinch ^note the unclean knight;
And ask him, why, that hour of fairy revel,
In their so sacred paths he dares to tread
In shape prophane.

Ford.
And, 'till ^note he tell the truth,
Let the supposed fairies pinch him sound,
And burn him with their tapers.

M. Pa.
The truth being known,
We'll all present ourselves; dishorn the spirit,
And mock him home to Windsor.

Ford.
The children must

Be practic'd well to this, or they'll ne'er dot'. ^note

Sir H.

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

Ford.
That will ^note be excellent. I'll go buy them vizards.

M. Pa.
My Nan shall be the queen of all the fairies,
Finely attired in a robe of white.

Page.
That silk will I go buy; &clquo;and, in that time,&crquo;
&clquo;Shall master Slender steal my Nan away,&crquo;
&clquo;And marry her at Eaton.&crquo; Go, send to Falstaff
Straight.

Ford.
Nay, I'll to him again in name ^note of Brook:
He'll tell me all his purpose: Sure, he'll come.

M. Pa.
Fear not you that: Go, get us properties,
And tricking for our fairies.

Sir H.

Let us about it: It is admirable pleasures, and fery honest knaveries.