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Mrs. Ford. A plain kerchief, Sir John: my brows become nothing elfe; nor that well neither.

Fal. Thou art a traitor to fay fo: thou would'st make an abfolute courtier; and the firm fixure of thy foot would give an excellent motion to thy gait, in a femi-circled farthingale. I fee what thou wert, if fortune thy foe were not; nature is thy friend: come, thou canst not hide it.

me.

Mrs. Ford. Believe me, there's no fuch thing in

Fal. What made me love thee? let that perfuade thee, there's fomething extraordinary in thee. Come, I cannot cog, and fay, thou art this and that, like amany of these lifping haw-thorn buds, that come like women in men's apparel, and fmell like Bucklers-bury in fimpling time; I cannot: but I love thee; none but thee; and thou deferveft it.

Hence

a new fignification, and means only the head-drefs. tire-woman, for a dreffer of the head. As to the meaning of the latter part of the fentence, this may be feen by a paraphrafe of the whole fpeech.-Your face is fo good, fays the speaker, that it would become any head-drefs worn at court, either the open or the close, or indeed any rich and fashionable one worth adorning with Venetian point, or which will admit to be adorned. [Of Venetian admittance.] The fashionable lace, at that time, was Venetian point. WARBURTON.

This note is plaufible, except in the explanation of Venetian admittance: but I am afraid this whole fyftem of drefs is unfupported by evidence. JOHNSON.

of Venetian admittance.] i. e. of a fashion received from Venice. Dr. Warburton might have found the fame reading in the quarto, 1630. Instead of tire-valiant, I would read tire-volant. Stubbs, who defcribes moft minutely every article of female drefs, has mentioned none of these terms, but fpeaks of vails depending from the top of the head, and flying behind in loofe folds. The word volant was in ufe before the age of Shakespeare. I find it in Wilfride Holme's Fall and evil Succeffe of Rebellion, of which book the reader will find a fufficient account in a note in the firft fcene of the fifth act of Love's Lab. Loft:

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-high volant in any thing divine." STEEVENS.

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Mrs. Ford. Do not betray me, Sir; I fear, you love miftrefs Page.

Fal. Thou might'ft as well fay, I love to walk by the Counter-gate; which is as hateful to me as the reck of a lime-kiln.

Mrs. Ford. Well, heaven knows how I love you; and you shall one day find it.

Fal. Keep in that mind; I'll deserve it.

Mrs. Ford. Nay, I must tell you, so you do; or elfe I could not be in that mind.

Rob. [Within.] Mistress Ford, mistress Ford! here's mistress Page at the door, fweating, and blowing, and looking wildly, and would needs speak with you prefently.

Fal. She fhall not fee me; I will ensconce me behind the arras.

Mrs. Ford. Pray you, do fo; fhe's a very tattling [Falftaff bides himself.

woman.

Enter Mistress Page.

What's the matter? how now?

Mrs. Page. O mistress Ford, what have you done? you're fham'd, you are overthrown, you are undone for ever.

Mrs. Ford. What's the matter, good mistress Page? Mrs. Page. O well-a-day, miftrefs Ford! having an honeft man to your husband, to give him fuch caufe of fufpicion!

Mrs. Ford. What caufe of fufpicion?

Mrs. Page. What caufe of fufpicion ?-Out upon you!--how am I miftook in you?

Mrs. Ford. Why, alas! what's the matter?

Mrs. Page. Your husband's coming hither, woman, with all the officers in Windfor, to fearch for a gentleman, that, he fays, is here now in the house, by your confent, to take an ill advantage of his abfence. You are undone.

Mrs.

Mrs. Ford. Speak louder-[Afide.] 'Tis not fo, I hope.

Mrs. Page. Pray heaven it be not so, that you have fuch a man here; but 'tis moft certain, your husband's coming with half Windfor at his heels, to fearch for fuch a one. I come before to tell you: if you know yourself clear, why, I am glad of it: but if you have a friend here, convey, convey him out. Be not amaz'd, call all your fenfes to you; defend your reputation, or bid farewell to your good life for ever.

Mrs. Ford. What fhall I do? There is a gentleman, my dear friend; and I fear not mine own fhame, fo much as his peril. I had rather than a thoufand pound, he were out of the house.

Mrs. Page. For fhame, never ftand you bad rather, and you had rather, your hufband's here at hand; bethink you of fome conveyance; in the house you cannot hide him. Oh, how have you deceiv'd me! Look, here is a bafket; if he be of any reasonable ftature, he may creep in here; and throw foul linen upon him, as if it were going to bucking: or, it is whiting-time, fend him by your two men to Datchet mead.

Mrs. Ford. He's too big to go in there: what fhall I do?

Re-enter Falfiaff.

Fal. Let me fee't, let me fee't! O let me fee't! I'll in, I'll in.-Follow your friend's counfel.--I'll in. Mrs. Page. What! Sir John Falstaff? Are thefe your letters, knight?

Fal. I love thee-help me away: let me creep here; I'll never

in

[He goes into the basket, they cover him with foul linen. Mrs. Page. Help to cover your mafter, boy:--call your men, mistress Ford.-You difflembling knight! Mrs. Ford. What, John, Robert, John! go take up these clothes here, quickly. Where's the cowlfaff?

R 4

staff? Look, 5 how you drumble: carry them to the laundrefs in Datchet mead; quickly, come.

Enter Ford, Page, Caius, and Evans.

Ford. Pray you, come near: if I fufpect without caufe, why then make sport at me, then let me be your jeft, I deferve it. How now? whither bear you

this?

Serv. To the laundress, forsooth.

Ms. Ford. Why, what have you to do whither they bear it? You were beft meddle with buck-wafhing.

Ford. Buck? I would I could wash myself of the buck! Buck, buck, buck? ay, buck: I warrant you, buck, and of the feafon too, it fhall appear. [Exeunt Servants with the basket.] Gentlemen, I have dream'd to-night, I'll tell you my dream. Here, here, here be my keys: afcend my chambers, fearch, seek, find out; I'll warrant, we'll unkennel the fox. Let me ftop this way firft. 6 So now uncape.

Page. Good mafter Ford, be contented: you wrong yourfelf too much.

Ford. True, mafter Page. Up, gentlemen; you fhall fee fport anon: follow me, gentlemen. [Exit. Eva. This is fery fantastical humours and jealoufies.

Caius. By gar, 'tis no de fashion of France: it is not jealous in France.-

5

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you drumble: If I was certain that there was no fuch word as drumble, I fhould propofe to read, fumble. T. T. -So now uncape.] So the folio of 1623 reads, and rightly. It is a term in fox-hunting, which fignifies to dig out the fox when earth'd. And here is as much as to fay, take out the foul linen under which the adulterer lies hid. The Oxford editor reads uncouple, out of pure love to an emendation.

WARBURTON.

Dr. Warburton feems to have forgot that the linen was already carried away. The allufion in the foregoing line is to the ftopping every hole at which a fox could escape, before they dig for him. STEEVENS,

Page,

Page. Nay, follow him, gentlemen; fee the iffue of his fearch. [Exeunt. Mrs. Page. Is there not a double excellency in this? Mrs. Ford. I know not which pleafes me better, that my husband is deceiv'd, or Sir John.

Mrs. Page. What a taking was he in, when your husband afk'd who was in the basket!

Mrs. Ford. I am half afraid he will have need of washing; fo throwing him into the water will do him a benefit.

Mrs. Page. Hang him, dishonest rascal! I would, all of the fame ftrain were in the fame diftrefs.

Mrs. Ford. I think, my husband hath fome special fufpicion of Falftaff's being here; for I never faw him fo grofs in his jealousy till now.

Mrs. Page. I will lay a plot to try that; and we will yet have more tricks with Falftaff: his diffolute difeafe will scarce obey this medicine.

Mrs. Ford. Shall we fend that foolish carrion, miftrefs Quickly, to him, and excufe his throwing into the water; and give him another hope, to betray him to another punishment?

Mrs. Page. We'll do it; let him be sent for to-morrow by eight o'clock, to have amends.

Re-enter Ford, Page, and the reft at a distance.

Ford. I cannot find him: may be the knave brag'd of that he could not compafs.

Mrs. Page. Heard you that?

Mrs. Ford. I, I; peace :- -you ufe me well; mafter Ford, do you?

Ford. Ay, I do fo.

Mrs. Ford. Heaven make you better than your thoughts!

Ford. Amen.

Mrs. Page. You do yourself mighty wrong, master Ford.

Ford. Ay, ay; I must bear it.

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