SCENE

VII.

Changes to the Garter-inn.

Enter Falstaff, Hoft, Bardolph, Nym, Piftol, and Robin. Fal. Mine hoft of the garter,

Hoft. What fays my bully rock? speak scholarly, and wifely.

Fal. Truly, mine host, I muft turn away fome of my followers.

Hoft. Difcard, bully Hercules, cafhier; let them wag; trot, trot.

Fal. I fit at ten pounds a-week.

Hoft. Thou'rt an Emperor, Cæfar, Keifar, and Pheazar. I will entertain Bardolph, he shall draw, he fhall tap; faid I well, bully Hector?

Fal. Do fo, good mine hoft.

Hoft. I have fpoke, let him follow; let me fee thee froth, and live: I am at a word; follow. [Exit Hoft. Fal. Bardolph, follow him; a tapiter is a good trade; an old cloak makes a new jerkin; a wither'd servingman, a fresh tapfter; go, adieu.

Bard It is a life that I have defir'd: I will thrive. [Exit Bard.

Pift. O bafe Hungarian wight, wilt thou the spigot wield?

Nym. He was gotten in drink, is not the humour conceited? His mind is not heroic, and there's the humour of it.

Fal. I am glad I am fo quit of this tinder-box; his thefts were too open; his filching was like an unskil ful finger, he kept not time.

Nym. The good humour is to steal at a minute's rest. Pift. Convey, the wife it call: fteal? foh; a fico for the phrafe!

Fal. Well, Sirs, I am almost out at heels.

Pift. Why then, let kibes enfue.

Fal. There is no remedy: I muft conycatch, I must fhift.

Pift. Young ravens must have food.

Fal. Which of you know Ford of this town?
Pift. I ken the weight, he is of fubftance good.

Fal.

Fal. My honeft lads, I will tell you what I am about.

Pift. Two yards and more.

Fal. No quips now, Piftol: indeed I am in the waste two yards about; but I am now about no waste, I am about thrift. Briefly, I do mean to make love to Ford's wife: I fpy entertainment in her; fhe difcourfes, the carves, fhe gives the leer of invitation; I can conftrue the action of her familiar style, and the hardest voice of her behaviour, to be English'd right, is, I am Sir John Falstaff's.

Pift. He hath ftudy'd her well, and tranflated her out of honesty into English

Nym. The anchor is deep; will that humour pass? Fal. Now, the report goes, fhe has all the rule of her husband's purfe: the hath a legion of angels. Pift. As many devils entertain; and to her, boy, fay I.

Nym. The humour rises; it is good; humour me the angels.

Fal. I have writ me here a letter to her; and here another to Page's wife, who even now gave me good eyes too, examin'd my parts with moft judicious oeillads; and fometimes the beam of her view gilded my foot, fometimes my portly belly.

Pift. Then did the fun on dunghill shine. [Afide. Nym. I thank thee for that humour.

Fal. O fhe did fo course o'er my exteriors with fuch a greedy intention, that the appetite of her eye did seem to scorch me up like a burning-glafs. Here's another letter to her; fhe bears the purfe too; she is a region in Guiana, all gold and bounty. I will be cheater to them both, and they fhall be exchequers to me; they fhall be my Eaft and Weft Indies, and I will trade to them both Go, bear thou this letter to Miftress Page, and thou this to Mistress Ford: we will thrive, lads, we will thrive.

Pift. Shall I Sir Pandarus of Troy become, And by my fide wear steel. Then Lucifer take all ! Nym. I will run no bafe humour; here, take the humour letter, I will keep the haviour of reputation. Fal. Hold, firrah, bear you thefe letters tightly,

Sail like my pinance to thefe golden fhores. [To Robin. Rogues, hence, avaunt! vanish like hailstones, go; Trudge, plod away o' th' hoof, feek, fhelter, pack! Falstaff will learn the humour of the age,

French thrift, you rogues; myself, and skirted page. [Exeunt Falitaff and Boy.

Pift. Let vultures gripe thy guts; for gord and

Fulham holds:

And high and low beguiles the rich and poor.
Tefter I'll have in pouch, when thou shait lack,
Bafe Phrygian Furk!

Nym I have operations in my head, which be hamours of revenge.

Pift. Wilt thou revenge?

Nym. By welkin, and her star.

Pift. With wit, or steel?

Nym. With both the humours, I.

I will difcufs the humour of this love to Ford.
Pift. And I to Page fhall eke unfold,

How Falftaff, varlet vile,

His dove will prove, his gold will hold,

And his foft couch defile.

Nym. My humour fhall not cool; I will incenfe Ford to deal with poifon; I will poffefs him with yellownefs; for the revolt of mien is dang'rous: that is my true humour...

Pift. Thou art the Mars of malecontents. I fecond thee; troop on.

[Exeunt.

SCENE IX. Changes to Dr. Caius's houfe. Enter Mifirefs Quickly, Simple, and John Rugby.

Quic. What, John Rugby! I pray thee go to the cafement, and fee if you can fee my mafter, Master Doctor Caius, coming; if he do, i'faith, and find any body in the house, here will be old abufing of God's patience, and the King's English.

Rug. I'll go watch.

[Exit Rugby. Quic. Go, and we'll have a poffet for't foon at night,

in faith, at the latter end of a fea-coal fire. An honeft, willing, kind fellow, as ever fervant fhall come in house withal; and, I warrant you, no tell-tale, nor no breedbate his worst fault is, that he is given to pray'r; he is fomething peevish that way; but no body but has his fault; but let that pafs. Peter Simple, you say, your name is.

Sim. Ay, for fault of a better.

Quic. And Mafter Slender's your master?
Sim. Ay, forsooth.

Quic. Does he not wear a great round beard, like a glover's pairing-knife?

Sim. No, forfooth; he hath but a little wee-face, with a little yellow beard, a Cain colour'd beard.

Quic. A foftly-fprighted man, is he not?

Sim. Ay, forfooth; but he is as tall a man of his hands as any is between this and his head. He hath fought with a warrener.

Quic. How fay you? oh, I fhould remember him; does he not hold up his head, as it were? and strut in his gate?

Sim. Yes, indeed, does he.

Quic. Well, heav'n fend Anne Page no worse fortune! Tell Master Parfon Evans, I'll do what I can for your mafter. Anne is a good girl, and I with

Enter Rugby.

Rug. Out, alas! here comes my master.

Quic. We fhall all be fhent; run in here, good young man; go into this closet; [Shuts Simple in the clofet]. He will not ftay long. What, John Rugby! John! what, John, I fay; go, John, go inquire for my mafter; I doubt he be not well, that he comes not home? and down, down, a-down-a, &c. [Sings.

SCENE X. Enter Doctor Caius. Caius. Vat is you fing? I do not like des toys; pray you, go and vetch me in my clofet un boitier verd; a box, a green-a box; do intend vat I speak? a green-a box.

Quic. Ay, forfooth, I'll fetch it you.

I am glad he went not in himself; if he had found the

young man, he would have been horn-mad. [Afide. Caius. Fe, fe, fe, fe, ma foi, il fait fort chaud; je m'en vais à la cour· la grande affaire.

Quic. Is it this, Sir?

Caius. Quy, mettez le au mon pocket; depéchez,quickly; ver is dat knave Rugby!

Quic. What, John Rugby! John!

Rug. Here, Sir.

Gaius. You are John Rugby, and you are Jack Rugby; come, take-a your rapier, and come after my heel to the court.

Rug. 'Tis ready, Sir, here in the porch.

Caius. By my trot I tarry too long: od's me! Qu'ay je oublié ? dere is fome fimples in my closet, dat I vill not for the varld I shall leave behind.

Quic. Ay-me, he'll find the young man there, and be mad.

Caius. O Diable, Diable! vat is in my closet? villaine, Larron! Rugby, my rapier.

[Pulls Simple out of the closet.

Quic. Good mafter, be content.

Caius. Verfore fhall I be content-a?

Quic. The young man is an honest man.

Caius. Vat fhall de honeft man do in my closet? dere is no honeft man dat fhall come in my closet.

Quic. I beseech you be not fo flegmatic; hear the truth of it. He came of an errand to me from Parfon Hugh.

Caius. Vell.

Sim. Ay, forfooth, to defire her to-
Quic. Peace, I pray you.

Caius. Peace a-your tongue, fpeak-a your tale. Sim. To defire this honeft gentlewoman your maid, to speak a good word to Mistress Anne Page for my mafter in the way of marriage.

Quic. This is all, indeed-la; but I'll never put my finger in the fire, and need not.

Caius. Sir Hugh fend a-you? Rugby, baillez me fome paper; tarry you a little-a-while.

Quic. I am glad he is fo quiet. If he had been thoroughly moved, you should have heard him fo loud, and fo melancholy but notwithstanding, man, I'll do for VOL. I.

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