Mrs. Ford. Mrs. Page.

Away, away

[The women run out.

Fal. I think the devil will not have me damn'd, lest the oil that is in me fhould fet hell on fire; he never would elfe crois me thus.

Enter Sir Hugh like a Satyr; Quickly, and others, dreft like Fairies, with tapers.

Quic. Fairies, black, gray, green, and white,
You moon-fhine revellers, and fhades of night,
You Ouphen heirs of fixed destiny,

Attend your office, and your quality.
Crier hobgoblin, make the Fairy o-yes.

Eva Elves, lift your names; filence, you airy toys.
Cricket, to Windfor chimneys fhalt thou leap:
Where fires thou find'ft unrak'd, and hearths unfwept,
There pinch the maids as blue as bilbery.
Our radiant Queen hates fluts and fluttery.

[die.

Fal. They're Fairies; he that fpeaks to them thall I'll wink and couch; no man their works must eye. [Lies down upon his face.

Eva. Where's Pede? go you, and where you find

a maid,

That ere the fleep hath thrice her prayers faid,
Rein up the organs of her phantaly;

Sleep the as found as careless infancy;

But thofe that fleep, and think not on their fins, Pinch them, arms, legs, backs, fhoulders, fides, and

fhins.

Quic. About, about;

Search Wind for castle, elves, within, and out.
Strew good luck, ouphes, on every facred room,
That it may ftand till the perpetual doom,
In ftate as wholfome, as in ftate 'tis fit;
Worthy the owner, as the owner it.

The feveral chairs of order look you fcour,
With juice of balm and ev'ry precious flow'r:
Each fair instalment coat and fev'ral creft,
With loyal blazon evermore be bleft!
I i

VOL. I.

And

And nightly-meadow-fairies, look, you fing,

Like to the garter-compafs, in a ring:

Th' expreffure that it bears, green let it be,
More fertile-fresh than all the field to fee;
And Hony foit qui mal y penfe write,

In emrold-tuffs, flow'rs purfled, blue and white,
Like faphire, pearl, in rich embroidery,
Buckled below fair knighthood's bending knee;
Fairies ufe flow'rs for their charactery.
Away, difperfe; but, till 'tis one o' clock,
Our dance of cuftom round about the oak
Of Herne, the hunter, let us not forget.

Eva. Pray you, lock hand in hand, yourselves in order fet:

And twenty glow-worms fhall our lanthorns be,
To guide our measure round about the tree.
But ftay, I fmell a man of middle earth.

Fal. Heav'ns defend me from that Welch Fairy, lest he transform me to a piece of cheese!

Eva. Vild worm, thou waft o'erlook'd ev'n in thy birth.

Quic. With trial-fire touch me his finger-end;
If he be chafte, the flame will back defcend,
And turn him to no pain; but if he start,
It is the flesh of a corrupted heart.

Eva. A trial, come.

[They burn him with their tapers, and pinch him. Come, with this wood take fire.

Fal. Oh, oh, oh!

Quic. Corrupt, corrupt, and tainted in defire; About him, Fairies, fing a fcornful rhime;

And, as you trip, ftill pinch him to your time. Eva. It is right, indeed, he is full of lecheries and iniquity..

Fie on finful phantafy,

Fie on luft and luxury!
Luft is but i' th' blood a fire,

Kindled with unchafte defire,

Fed in heart, whofe flames afpire,

As thoughts to blow them, higher and higher.

Pinch him, Fairies, mutually;

Pinch him for his villany.

Pinch him, and burn him, and turn him about,
Till candles, and flar-light, and moon-fhine, be out.

During this fong, they pinch him. Doctor Caius comes one way, and steals away a boy in green; Slender another way, and he takes away a boy in white; and Fenton comes and fieals away Mrs. Anne Page. A noife of hunting is made within. All the Fairies run away. Falstaff pulls off his buck's head, and rifes.

Enter Page, Ford, &c. They lay hold on him.

Page. Nay, do not fly; I think, we've watch'd you

now;

Will none but Herne the hunter ferve your turn? Mrs. Page. I pray you, come; hold up the jeft no higher.

Now, good Sir John, how like you Windfor wives? See you thefe, hufbands? do not these fair yokes Become the foreft better than the town?

Ford. Now, Sir, who's a cuckold now? Mr. Brook, Falstaff's a knave, a cuckoldly knave; here are his horns, Mafter Brook; and, Mafter Brook, he hath enjoy'd nothing of Ford's but his buck-basket, his cudgel, and twenty pounds of money, which must be paid to Master Brook; his horfes are arrested for it, Mafter Brook.

never meet.

Mrs. Ford. Sir John, we have had ill luck; we could I will never take you for my love again, but I will always count you my deer.

Fal. I do begin to perceive that I am made an afs. Ford. Ay, and an ox too: both the proofs are ex

tant.

Fal. And thefe are not Fairies? I was three or four times in the thought, they were not Fairies; and yet the quiltinefs of my mind, the fudden furprife of my powers, drove the groffnefs of the foppery into a receiv'd belief, in defpight of the teeth of all rhime and reason, that

they were Fairies. See now, how wit may be made a jack a-lent, when 'tis upon ill employment?

Eva. Sir John Falitaff, ferve Got, and leave your defires. and Fairies will not pinse you.

Fordell faid, fairy Hugh.

Eva And leave you your jealoufies too, I pray you. Ford I will never mistrust my wife again, till thou art able to woo her in good English

Fal Have I laid my brain in the fun and dry'd it, that it wants matter to prevent fo grofs o'er-reaching as this am ridden with a Welch goat too? Shall I have a coxcomb of frize' 'tis time I were choak'd with a piece of toasted cheese.

Eva eele is not good to give putter; your pelly is all putter.

Fal Seefe and putter? have I liv'd to stand in the taunt of one, that makes fritters of English? this is enough to be the decay of luft and late-walking through

the realm.

Mrs. Page. Why, Sir John, do you think, though we would have thrust virtue out of our hearts by the head and fhoulders, and have given ourselves without fcruple to hell, that ever the devil could have made you our delight?

Ford What, a hodge-pudding? a bag of flax?
Mrs. Page A puft man

Page. Old, cold, wither'd, and of intolerable entrails?

Ford. And one that is as flanderous as Satan?
Page And as poor as Job

Ford. And as wicked as his wife?

Eva. And given to fornications, and to taverns, and facks, and wines, and metheglins; and to drinkings, and fwearings, and starings, pribbles and prabbles? Fal. Well, I am your theme; you have the tart of I am dejected; I am not able to answer the Welch flannel; ignorance it felf is a plummet o'er me; ufe me as you will.

me;

Ford. Marry, Sir, we'll bring you to Windfor to one Mr. Brook, that you have cozen'd of money, to whom you fhould have been a pander: over and above that,

you

you have fuffer'd, I think, to repay that money will be a biting affliction.

Mrs. Ford. Nay, husband, let that go to make a

mends:

Forgive that fum, and fo we'll all be friends.

Ford. Well, here's my hand: all's forgiven at last. Page. Yet be chearful, Knight; thou shalt eat a poffet to-night at my houfe, where I will defire thee to laugh at my wife, that now laughs at thee. her, Mr. Slender hath marry'd her daughter.

Tell

my

Mrs. Page. Doctors doubt that; if Anne Page be daughter, the is, by this, Doctor Caius's wife. [Afide.

SCENE VI. Enter Slender.

Slen. What hoe! hoe! father Page.

Page. Son, how now? how now, fon, have you dispatch'd?

Slen. Difpatch'd? I'll make the best in Gloucefterfhire known on't; would i were hang'd la, elfe. Page. Of what, fon?

Slen. I came yonder at Eaton to marry Mistress Anne Page, and fhe's a great lubberly boy. If it had not been i' th' church, I would have fwinge'd him, or he fhould have fwinge'd me. If I did not think it had been Anne Page, would I might never tir, and 'tis a post-master's boy.

Page. Upon my life, then you took the wrong.

Slen. What need you tell me that? I think fo, when I took a boy for a girl: if I had been marry'd to him, for all he was in woman's apparel, I would not have had him.

Did not I tell

Page. Why, this is your own folly. you, how you fhould know my daughter by her gar

ments?

Slen. I went to her in white, and cry'd Mum, and fhe cry'd Budget, as Anne and I had appointed; and yet it was not Anne, but a poft-master's boy.

Eva. Jefhu! Mafter Slender, cannot you fee but marry boys?

Page O, I am vex'd at heart. What fhall I do? Mrs. Page. Good George, be not angry; I knew of your purpofe, turn'd my daughter into green, and in

deed