Ford.

Ay, but if it prove true, master Page, have you any way then to unfool me again? set down the basket villain; somebody call my wife: youth in a basket! oh you panderly rascals, there's a knot, a gang, a pack, a conspiracy against me; now shall the devil be sham'd. What wife, I say; come, come forth, behold what honest cloaths you send forth to bleaching.

Page.

Why this passes, master Ford; you are not to go loose any longer, you must be pinnion'd.

Eva.

Why, this is lunaticks; this is mad as a mad dog.

Shal.

Indeed, master Ford, this is not well indeed.

Ford.

So say I too, Sir. Come hither mistress Ford, mistress Ford, the honest woman, the modest wife, the virtuous creature, that hath the jealous fool to her husband: I suspect without cause, mistress, do I?

Mrs. Ford.

Heav'n be my witness you do, if you suspect me in any dishonesty.

Ford.

Well said, brazen-face, hold it out: come forth, Sirrah.

Page.

This passes.

Mrs. Ford.

Are you not asham'd, let the cloaths alone.

Ford.

I shall find you anon.

Eva.

'Tis unreasonable; will you take up your wife's cloaths? come away.

Ford.

Empty the basket, I say.

Mrs. Ford.

Why man, why?

Ford.

Master Page, as I am a man, there was one convey'd out of my house yesterday in this basket; why may not he be there again? in my house I am sure he is; my intelligence is true, my jealousie is reasonable; pluck me out all the linnen.

Mrs. Ford.

If you find a man there, he shall die a flea's death.

Page.

Here's no man.

Shal.

By my fidelity this is not well, master Ford; this wrongs you.

Eva.

Master Ford, you must pray, and not follow the imaginations of your own heart; this is jealousies.

Ford.

Well, he's not here I seek for.

Page.

No, nor no where else but in your brain.

Ford.

Help to search my house this one time; if I find not what I seek, shew no colour for my extremity; let me for ever be your table-sport; let them say of me, as jealous as Ford, that searched a hollow wall-nut for his wife's lemman. Satisfie me once more, once more search with me.

Mrs. Ford.

What hoa, mistress Page! come you and the old woman down; my husband will come into the chamber.

Ford.

Old woman! what old woman's that?

Mrs. Ford.

Why, it is my maid's aunt of Brainford.

Ford.

A witch, a quean, an old cozening quean; have I not forbid her my house? she comes of errands, does she? we are simple men, we do not know what's brought to pass under the profession of fortune-telling. She works by charms, by spells, by th' figure, and such dawbry as this is, beyond our element; we know nothing. Come down, you witch, you hag you, come down, I say.

Mrs. Ford.

Nay, good sweet husband; good gentlemen, let him not strike the old woman.