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.

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.