Fal. Nay, you fhall hear, Master Brook, what I have fuffer'd to bring this woman to evil for your good. Being thus cramın'd in the basket, a couple of Ford's knaves, his hinds, were call'd forth by their mistress, to carry me in the name of foul cloaths to Datchetlane. They took me on their fhoulders, met the jealous knave their master in the door, who afk'd them once or twice what they had in their basket. I quak'd for fear, left the lunatic knave would have fearch'd it; but fate, ordaining he fhould be a cuckold, held his hand. Well, on went he for a fearch, and away went I for foul cloaths. But mark the fequel, Mr. Brook. I fuffer'd the pangs of three egregious deaths: first, an intollerable fright, to be detected by a jealous rotten bell-weather; next, to be compafs'd like a good bilbo, in the circumference of a peck, hilt to point, heel to head; and then to be stopt in, like a ftrong diftillation, with ftinking cloaths that fretted in their own greafe. Think of that, a man of my kidney; think of that. that am as fubject to heat as butter; a man of continual diffolution and thaw; it was a miracle to 'fcape fuffocation. And in the height of this bath, when I was more than half stew'd in greafe, like a Dutch dish, to be thrown into the Thames, and cool'd glowing hot, in that furge, like a horfe fhoe; think of that; hifling hot; think of that, Master Brook.

Ford. In good fadnefs, Sir, I am forry that for my fake you fuffer'd all this. My fuit is then defperate; you'll undertake her no more?

Fal. Mafter Brook, I will be thrown into Etna, as I have been into Thames, ere I will leave her thus. Her husband is this morning gone a birding. I have receiv'd from her another embaffy of meeting. Twixt eight and nine is the hour, Mafter Brook. Ford. 'Tis paft eight already, Sir.

Fal. Is it? I will then addrefs me to my appointment. Come to me at your convenient leifure, and you fhall know how I fpeed; and the conclufion fhail be crown'd with your enjoying her. Adieu; you fhall have her, Mafter Brook; Mafter Brook, you fhall cuckold Ford. [Exit.

Ford. Hum? ha! is this a vifion? is this a dream?

do

do I fleep? Mafter Ford, awake; awake, Mafter Ford; there's a hole made in your best coat, Master Ford; this 'tis to be married! this 'tis to have linen and buckbaskets! Well, I will proclaim my felf what I am; I will now take the leacher; he is at my houfe; he cannot 'fcape me; 'tis impoffible he fhould; he cannot creep into a halfpenny-purfe, nor into a pepper-box. But, left the devil that guides him fhould aid him, I will fearch impoffible places: tho' what I am I cannot avoid; yet to be what I would not, shall not make me If I have horns to make one mad, let the proverb go with me, I'll be horn-mad.

tame.

[Exit.

ACT

IV.

SCENE I.

Page's houfe.

Enter Mrs. Page, Mrs. Quickly, and William. Mrs. Page. S he at Mr. Ford's already, think'ft thou? Quic. Sure he is by this, or will be prefently; but truly he is very courageous mad, about his throwing into the water; Mrs. Ford defires you to come fuddenly.

Mrs. Page. I'll be with her by and by; I'll but bring my young man here to fchool. Look where his mafter comes; 'tis a playing-day, I fee. How now, Sir Hugh, no fchool to-day?

Enter Evans.

Eva. No; Master Slender is let the boys leave to play.

Quic. Bleffing of his heart!

Mrs. Page. Sir Hugh, my hufband fays my fon profits nothing in the world at his book; I pray you ask him fome questions in his accidence.

Eva. Come hither, William; hold up your head,

come.

Mrs. Page. Come on, firrah; hold up your head, anfwer your master, be not afraid.

Eva. William, how many numbers is in nouns ?
Will. Two.

Quic. Truly I thought there had been one number more, because they fay, od's nouns.

Eva. Peace your tatlings. What is fair, William? Will. Pulcher.

Quic. Poulcats? there are fairer things than pouleats, fure.

Eva. You are a very fimplicity 'oman; I pray you peace. What is lapis, William ?

Will. A ftone.

Eva. And what is a stone, William?
Will. A pebble.

Eva. No, it is lapis. I pray you, remember in your prain.

Will. Lapis.

Eva. That is a good William. What is he, William, that does lend articles?

Will, Articles are borrowed of the pronoun, and be thus declin'd, Singulariter nominativo, hic, hæc, hoc.

Eva. Nominativo, big, hag, hog; pray you, mark: genitivo, hujus. Well, what is your accufative cafe? Will. Accufative, hinc.

Eva. I pray you, have your remembrance, child; accufative, bung, hang, hog.

Quic. Hang hog is Latin for bacon, I warrant you. Eva. Leave your prabbles, 'oman. What is the focative cafe, William?

Will. O, vocativo, O.

Eva. Remember, William, focative is caret.

Quic. And that's a good root.

Eva. 'Oman, forbear.

Mrs. Page. Peace.

Eva. What is your genitive cafe plural, William ? Will. Genitive cafe?

Eva. Ay.

Will. Genitive, horum, harum, horum.

Quic. 'Vengeance of Giney's cafe; fie on her! never name her, child, if fhe be a whore.

Eva. For fhame, 'oman.

He

Quic. You do ill to teach the child fuch words. teaches him to hick and to hack, which they'll do faft enough of themfelves; and to call horum: fie upon you!

Eva. 'Oman, art thou lunacies? haft thou no underftandings for thy cafes, and the numbers of the genders? Thou art as foolish Chriftian creatures as I would defire.

Mrs. Page. Pr'ythee, hold thy peace.

Eva. Shew me now, William, fome declenfions of your pronouns.

Will. Forfooth, I have forgot.

Eva. It is qui, quæ, quod. If you forget your quies, your ques, and your quods, you must be preeches. Go your ways and play, go.

Mrs. Page. He is a better scholar than I thought he

was.

Eva. He is a good sprag memory. Farewel, Mrs. Page.

Mrs. Page. Adieu, good Sir Hugh. Get you home, boy. Come, we ftay too long.

[Exeunt. SCENE II. Changes to Ford's house.

Enter Falftaff and Mrs. Ford.

Fal. Mistress Ford, your forrow hath eaten up my fufferance; I fee you are obfequious in your love, and I profefs requital to a hair's breadth; not only, Mistress Ford, in the fimple office of love, but in all the accouftrement, complement, and ceremony of it. But are you fure of your husband now?

Mrs. Ford. He's a-birding, fweet Sir John.
Mrs. Page. [within.] What hoa, goffip Ford! what

oa !

Mrs. Ford. Step into the chamber, Sir John.

Enter Mrs. Page.

[Exit Falstaff.

Mrs. Page. How now, fweet heart, who's at home befides yourself?

Mrs. Ford. Why, none but mine own people.
Mrs. Page. Indeed?

Mrs. Ford. No, certainly-Speak louder. [Afide.
Mrs. Page. Truly, I am fo glad you have no body

here.

Mrs. Ford. Why?

Mrs. Page. Why, woman, your husband is in his old

lunes again. He fo takes on yonder with my husband, fo rails against all married mankind, fo curfes all Eve's daughters, of what complexion foever, and fo buffets himself on the forehead, crying, Peer-out! peer-out! that any madness I ever yet beheld, feemed but tamenefs, civility, and patience, to this diftemper he is in now. I am glad the fat Knight is not here.

Mrs. Ford. Why? does he talk of him?

Mrs. Page. Of none but him; and fwears he was carry'd out, the last time he fearch'd for him, in a basket; protests to my husband he is now here; and hath drawn him and the rest of their company from their fport, to make another experiment of his fufpicion. But I am glad the Knight is not here; now he fhall fee his own foolery.

Mrs. Ford. How near is he, Mistress Page?

Mrs. Page. Hard by, at street's end, he will be here

anon.

Mrs. Ford. I am undone, the Knight is here.

Mrs. Page. Why, then thou art utterly fham'd, and he's but a dead man. What a woman are you? away with him, away with him; better fhame than murder.

Mrs. Ford. Which way should he go? how fhould I bestow him? fhall I put him into the basket again?

SCENE III. Enter Falstaff.

Fal. No, I'll come no more i̇' th' basket! may I not go out ere he come ?

Mrs. Page Alas! alas! three of Mafter Ford's brothers watch the door with pistols, that none should iffue out, otherwife you might flip away ere he came. But what make you here?

Fal. What fhall I do? I'll creep up into the chimney.

Mrs. Ford. There they always ufe to discharge their birding-pieces; creep into the kill-hole.

Fal. Where is it?

Mrs. Ford. He will feek there on my word. Neither prefs, coffer, chelt, trunk, well, vault, but he hath an abftract for the remembrance of fuch places, and VOL. I.

G g

goes