Simple.
Eva.
I pray you now, good master Slender's servingman,
and friend Simple by your name, which way have
you looked for master Caius, that calls himself Doctor
of Physic?
Sim.
Marry, sir, the petty-ward6 note, the park-ward,
every way; old Windsor way, and every way but the
town way 11Q0080.
Eva.
I most fehemently desire you, you will also
look that way.
Sim.
I will, sir.
[Retiring.
Eva.
Pless my soul! how full of cholers I am, and
trempling of mind!—I shall be glad, if he have deceived
me.—How melancholies I am!—I will knog his
urinals about his knave's costard, when I have good
opportunities for the 'ork:—pless my soul!
[Sings.
To shallow rivers7 note, to whose falls
Melodious birds sing madrigals;
There will we make our peds of roses,
And a thousand fragrant posies.
To shallow—
-- 220 --
Mercy on me! I have a great dispositions to cry.
Melodious birds sing madrigals;—
When as I sat in Pabylon8 note,—
And a thousand vagram posies.
To shallow—
Sim. [Coming forward.]
Yonder he is coming, this
way, sir Hugh.
Eva.
He's welcome.—
To shallow rivers, to whose falls—
Heaven prosper the right!—What weapons is he?
Sim.
No weapons, sir. There comes my master,
master Shallow, and another gentleman, from Frogmore,
over the stile, this way.
Eva.
Pray you, give me my gown; or else keep it in
your arms.
Enter Page, Shallow, and Slender.
Shal.
How now, master parson! Good-morrow, good
sir Hugh. Keep a gamester from the dice, and a good
student from his book, and it is wonderful.
Slen.
Ah, sweet Anne Page!
Page.
Save you, good sir Hugh.
Eva.
Pless you from his mercy sake, all of you!
Shal.
What! the sword and the word? do you study
them both, master parson?
Page.
And youthful still, in your doublet and hose,
this raw rheumatic day?
Eva.
There is reasons and causes for it.
Page.
We are come to you to do a good office, master
parson.
-- 221 --
Eva.
Fery well: what is it?
Page.
Yonder is a most reverend gentleman, who,
belike having received wrong by some person, is at
most odds with his own gravity and patience that ever
you saw.
Shal.
I have lived fourscore years, and upward, I
never heard a man of his place, gravity, and learning,
so wide of his own respect.
Eva.
What is he?
Page.
I think you know him; master doctor Caius,
the renowned French physician.
Eva.
Got's will, and his passion of my heart! I had
as lief you would tell me of a mess of porridge.
Page.
Why?
Eva.
He has no more knowledge in Hibbocrates and
Galen,—and he is a knave besides; a cowardly knave,
as you would desires to be acquainted withal.
Page.
I warrant you, he's the man should fight with
him.
Slen.
O, sweet Anne Page!
Shal.
It appears so, by his weapons.—Keep them
asunder:—here comes doctor Caius.
Enter Host, Caius, and Rugby.
Page.
Nay, good master parson, keep in your weapon.
Shal.
So do you, good master doctor.
Host.
Disarm them, and let them question: let them
keep their limbs whole, and hack our English.
Caius.
I pray you, let-a me speak a word vit your
ear: verefore vill you not meet a-me?
Eva.
Pray you, use your patience: in good time.
Caius.
By gar, you are de coward, de Jack dog, John
ape.
Eva.
Pray you, let us not be laughing-stogs to other
men's humours; I desire you in friendship, and I will
one way or other make you amends.—I will knog your
-- 222 --
urinals about your knave's cogscomb for missing your
meetings and appointments9 note.
Caius.
Diable!—Jack Rugby,—mine Host de Jarretière,
have I not stay for him, to kill him? have I not,
at de place I did appoint?
Eva.
As I am a Christians soul, now, look you, this
is the place appointed. I'll be judgement by mine
Host of the Garter.
Host.
Peace, I say! Gallia and Guallia, French and
Welch1 note; soul-curer and body-curer.
Caius.
Ay, dat is very good: excellent.
Host.
Peace, I say! hear mine Host of the Garter.
Am I politic? am I subtle? am I a Machiavel? Shall
I lose my doctor? no; he gives me the potions, and
the motions. Shall I lose my parson? my priest? my
sir Hugh? no; he gives me the proverbs and the noverbs.
—Give me thy hand, terrestrial; so2 note:—Give me
thy hand, celestial; so.—Boys of art, I have deceived
you both 11Q0081; I have directed you to wrong places: your
hearts are mighty, your skins are whole, and let burnt
sack be the issue.—Come, lay their swords to pawn.—
Follow me, lad of peace; follow, follow, follow.
Shal.
Trust me, a mad host.—Follow, gentlemen,
follow.
Slen.
O, sweet Anne Page!
[Exeunt Shallow, Slender, Page, and Host.
Caius.
Ha! do I perceive dat? have you make-a de
sot of us? ha, ha!
-- 223 --
Eva.
This is well; he has made us his vlouting-stog.
—I desire you, that we may be friends, and let us
knog our prains together to be revenge on this same
scall, scurvy, cogging companion, the Host of the Garter.
Caius.
By gar, vit all my heart. He promise to bring
me vere is Anne Page: by gar, he deceive me too.
Eva.
Well, I will smite his noddles.—Pray you, follow.
[Exeunt.
J. Payne Collier [1842–1844], The works of William Shakespeare. The text formed from an entirely new collation of the old editions: with the various readings, notes, a life of the poet, and a history of the Early English stage. By J. Payne Collier, Esq. F.S.A. In eight volumes (Whittaker & Co. [etc.], London) [word count] [S10101].
