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Mrs. Page. Go in with us, and fee; we have an hour's talk with you,

[Exe. Mrs. Page, Mrs. Ford, and Mrs, Quickly. Page. How now, mafter Ford.

Ford. You heard what this knave told me, did you not? Page. Yes; and you heard what the other told me Ford. Do you think there is truth in them?

Page. Hang 'em, flaves; I do not think, the Knight would offer it; but thefe, that accufe him in his intent towards our wives, are a yoak of his discarded men very rogues, now they be out of fervice.

Ford. Were they his men?

Page. Marry, were they...

Ford, I like it never the better for that. Does he lie at the Garter?

Page. Ay, marry does he. If he fhould intend his voyage towards my wife, I would turn her loofe to him; and what he gets more of her than sharp words, let it lie on my head.

Ford. I do not mifdoubt my wife, but I would be loth to turn them together; a man may be too confident; I' would have nothing lie on my head; I cannot be thus fatisfy'd.

Page. Look, where my ranting Hoft of the Garter comes; there is either liquor in his pate, or money in his purfe, when he looks fo merrily. How now, mine Hoft?

Enter Hoft and Shallow.

Hoft. How, now, bully Rock? thou'rt a gentleman cavalerio-juftice, I fay.

Shal. I follow, mine Hoft, I follow.

Good even, and twenty, good mafter Page, Master Page, will you go with us? we have sport in hand.

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· Hoft. Tell him, cavalerio-juftice; tell him, bully Rock?

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Shal. Sir, there is a fray to be fought between Sir Hugh the Welch priest, and Caius the French doctor. Ford. Good mine Hoft of the Garter, a word with you. Hoft. What fay't thou, bully Rock ?

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Shal. Will you go with us to behold it my merry Hoft hath had the meafuring of their weapons, and, I think, he hath appointed them contrary places; for, believe me, I hear, the parfon is no jefter. Hark, I will tell you what our fport shall be.

Heft. Haft thou no fuit againft my Knight, my gueftcavalier?

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Ford. None, I proteft, but I'll give you a bottle of burnt fack to give me recourfe to him, (9) and tell him, my name is Brook; only for a jett.

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Heft. My hand, bully thou shalt have egrefs and re-, grefs; faid I well and thy name fhall be Brook. a merry Knight. (10) Will you go an-heirs?

Shal. Have with you, mine hoft.

Page. I have heard, the Frenchman hash good kill in his rapier.

Shal. Tut, Sir, I could have told you more; in thefe times you fland on distance, your paffes, ftoccado's, and I know not what: 'tis the heart, mafter Page; 'tis here, 'tis here. I have feen the time, with my long

(9) And tell him, my Name is Brook ;] Thus both the old Quario's and thus moft certainly the Poet wrote. We need no better Evidence, than the Pun that Falfaff anon makes on the Name, when! Brook fends him fome burnt Sack.

Such Brooks are welcome to me, that overflow with fuch Liquor.

The Players, in their Editions, altered the Name to Braom: But how far that Name will fort with that Jelt, is fubmitted to common Senfe.

(ro) Will you go an-heirs? I can make nothing of this Reading, which hath poffeffed all the Editions. The Word is not to be traced, and confequently, I am apt to fufpect, must be corrupted. I shoulda think, the Hoff meant to fay, either.

Will you go on here ?

Pointing out the Way, which was to lead them to the Combatants; as he afterwards says, Here, boys, here, bere ; shall we wag? Or,

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i. e. my Mafers; Both thefe make plain Senfe; and are not remote from the Traces of the Text: but, without fome fuch Alteration, the Paffage feems utterly unintelligible to me...

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fword, I would have made you four tall fellows skip like

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Hoft. Here, boys, here, here: fhall we wag? Page. Have with you; I had rather hear them fcold than fight, [Exeunt Hoft, Shallow and Page. Ford Tho' Page be a fecure fool, (11) and ftand fo firmly on his wife's fealty, yet I cannot put off my opinion fo easily. She was in his company at Page's houfe; and what they made there, I know not. Well, I will look further into't; and I have a difguife to found Falfiaff if I find her honeft, I lose not my labour; if the be otherwife, 'tis labour well beftow'd.

Fal.

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SCENE changes to the Garter-Inn.

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Enter Falftaff and Pistol.

Will not lend thee a penny.

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[Exit.

Pift. Why then the world's mine oyfter, which I with fword will open. I will retort the fum in equipage.

Fal. Not a penny. I have been content, Sir, yon fhould lay my countenance to pawn; I have grated upon my good friends for three reprieves for you, and your I couch-fellow, Nim; or elfe you had look'd through the grate, like a geminy of baboons. I am damn'd in hell rfwearing to gentlemen, my friends, you were good foldiers, and tall fellows. And when mistress Bridget loftt the handle of her fan, I took't upon mine honour, thon hadft it not

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Pi. Did thou not fhare? hadft thou not fifteen pence?

-Fal. Reafon, you rogue, reason : think'ft thou, I'll endanger my foul gratis? At a word, hang no more? about me, I am no gibbet for you: go, a fhort knife

(11) And fand fo firmly on his Wife's Frailty,] No furely; Page food tightly to the Opinion of her Honefty, and would not entertain: a Thought of her being frail. I have therefore, ventured to fubftitute a Word correfpondent to the Senfe required; and one, which our Poet frequently uses, to fignify conjugal Faith.

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and a throng, to your manor of Pickt-batch; go, you'll not bear a letter for me, you rogue! you ftand upon your honour! why, thou unconfinable bafenefs, it is as much as I can do to keep the term of my honour precife. I, I, I myself fometimes, leaving the fear of heaven on the left hand, and Liing mine honour in my neceffity, ám fain to fhuffle, to hedge and to lurch; and yet you rogue will enfconfe your rags, your cat-a-mountain looks, your red lettice phrafes, and your bold-beeting oaths, under the shelter of your honour! you will not do it, you !

Pift. I do relent: what wouldst thou more of man ?
Enter Robin.

Rob. Sir, here's a woman would fpeak with you.
Fal. Let her approach.

Enter Miflrefs Quiekly.

Quic Give your worship good-morrow.
Fal. Good-morrow, good wife.

Quic. Not fo, ana's pleafe your worship.

Fal. Good maid, then.

Quic. I'll be worn, as my mother was, the first hour I was born.

Fal. I do believe the swearer: what with me?

Quic. Shall I vouchsafe your worship a word or two. Fal. Two thousand, fair woman, and I'll vouchfafe thee the hearing..

Quin. There is one mistress Ford, Sir: I pray, come a little nearer this ways: 1 myfelf dwell with Mr. Doctor Caius

Fal. Well, on: mistress Ford, you say

Quic. Your worship fays very true: I pray your wor fhip, come a little nearer this ways.

Fal. I warrant thee, nobody hears: mine own people, mine own people.

Quie. Are they fo? heav'n bless them, and make them his fervants!

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Fal. Well: miftrefs Ford,

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Quic. Why, Sir, the's a good creature. Lord, lord,

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your worship's a wanton: well, heav'n forgive you, and all of us, I pray

Fal. Miftrefs Ford,

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-come, miftrefs Ford,. Quic. Marry, this is the fhort and the long of it; you have brought her into fuch a canaries, as 'tis wonderful: the best courtier of them all, when the court lay at Windsor, could never have brought her to fuch a canary. Yet there has been knights, and lords, and gentlemen, with their coaches; I warrant you, coach after coach, letter after letter, gift after gift, fmelling fo fweetly; all mufk; and fo rufling, I warrant you, in filk and gold, and in fach alligant terms, and in fuch wine and sugar of the belt, and the fairest, that would have won any woman's heart: and, I warrant you, they could never get an eye-wink of her. I had myfelf twenty angels given me this morning; but I defie all angels, in any fuch fort as they fay, but in the way of honefty; and I warrant you, they could never get her fo much as fip on a cup with the proudeft of them all: and yet there has been earls, nay, which is more, penfioners; but, I warrant you, all is one with her.

Fal. But what fays fhe to me? be brief, my good She Mercury.

Quic. Marry, he hath receiv'd your letter, for the which the thanks you a thousand times; and fhe gives you to notify, that her husband will be abfence from his houfe between ten and eleven.

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Fal. Ten and eleven.

Quic. Ay, forfooth; and then you may come and fee picture, the fays that you wot of: master Ford her husband, will be from home. Alas! the fweet woman leads an ill life with him, he's a very jealoufy man; the leads a very frampold life with him, good heart.

Fal. Ten and eleven: woman commend will not fail her.

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Quic. Why, you fay well: But I have another meffenger to your worship; miftrefs Page has her hearty commendations to you too; and let me tell you in your ear, he's as fartuous a civil modeft wife, and one (I

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