Ford.

Pray you come near; if I suspect without cause, why then make sport at me, then let me be your jest, I deserve it. How now? whither bear you this?

Serv.

To the landress, forsooth.

Mrs. Ford.

Why, what have you to do whither they bear it? You were best meddle with buck-washing.

Ford.

Buck? I would I could wash my self of the buck: buck, buck, buck, ay buck: I warrant you buck, and of the season too, it shall appear. [Exeunt Servants with the basket.] Gentlemen,

I have dream'd to-night, I'll tell you my dream: here, here, here be my keys; ascend my chambers, search, seek, find out. I'll warrant we'll unkennel the fox. Let me stop this way first.

Page.

Good master Ford, be contented: you wrong your self too much.

Ford.

True, master Page. Up gentlemen, you shall see sport anon; follow me, gentlemen.

Eva.

This is ferry fantastical humours and jealousies.

Caius.

By gar, 'tis no the fashion of France; it is not jealous in France—

Page.

Nay, follow him, gentlemen, see the issue of his search.