Like Sir Actaeon he,, with Ring-wood at thy heels:

O, odious is the name!

Ford. What name, Sir? [!!

Pist. The horn, I say: Farewel.

Take heed; have open eye; for thieves do foot by nights

Take heed, ere summer comes, or cuckoo-birds do sing.

Away, Sir corporal Nym.'
Believe it, Page; he speaks sense.

[Exit PISTOL. Ford. I will be patient, I will find out this. Nym. And this is true; [to Page.] I like not the humour of lying. He hath wrong'd me in some humours: I should have borne the humour'd letter to her; but I have a sword, and it shall bite upon my necessity. He loves your wife; there's the short and the long. My name is cor poral Nym; I speak, and I avouch. 'Tis true; my name is Nym, and Falstaff loves your wife. Adieu! I love not the humour of bread and cheose; and there's the humour of it. Adieu. [Exit NYM Pages The humour of it, quoth 'a! here's a fellow frights humour out of his wits.

Ford. I will seek out Falstaff.

Page, I never heard such a drawling, affecting rogue.

Ford. If I do find it, well.

Page. I will not believe such a Cataian, though the priest o' the town commended him for a true man. Ford. 'Twas a good sensible fellow: Well.

Page. How now, Meg?'

Mrs. Page. Whither go you, George?. you.

11

- Hark

Mrs. Ford. How now, sweet Frank? why art thou melancholy?

Ford. Imelancholy! I am not melancholy. Get you home, go.

-

Mrs. Ford. 'Faith, thou hast some crotchets in thy head now. Will you go, Mistress Page?

-

Mrs. Page. Have with you. You'll come to dinner, George? Look, who comes yonder:

she shall be our messenger to this paltry knight. [Aside to Mrs. FORD.

Enter Mistress QUICKLY.

Mrs. Ford. Trust me, I thought on her she'll fit it.

i

Mrs. Page. You are come to see my daughter Anne?

Quick. Ay, forsooth; And, I pray, how does good Mistress Amte?

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

[Exeunt Mrs. PAGE, Mrs.FORD, and Mrs. QUICKLY, Page. How now, Master 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 fem, slaves! I do not think the knight would offer it: but these that accuse him in his intent towards our wives, are a yoke of his discarded men; very rogues, now they be out of service.

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 should intend

this voyage towards my wife, I would turn her

loose to him; and what he gets more of her than sharp words, let it lie on my head.

Ford. I do not misdoubt 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 satisfied.

Page. Look, where my ranting host of the Garter comes: there is either liquor in hispate, or money in his purse, when he looks so merrily. How, now, mine host?

-

Enter Host and SHALLOW.

Host. How now, bully-rook? thou'rt a gentle man: cavalero - justice, I say.

Shal. I follow, mine host, I follow.

Good

even, and twenty, good Master Page! Master Page, will you go with us? we have sport in hand. Host. Tell him, cavalero-justice; tell him, bully, rook..

Shal. Sir, there is a fray to be fought, between Sir Hugh the Welch priest, and Caius the French doctor.

·Ford. Good mine host o' the Garter, with you.

Host. What say'st thou, bully - rook?

a word

[They go aside, Shal. Will you [to Page] go with us to be hold it? My merry host hath had the measuring of their weapons; and, I think, he hath appoin ted them contrary places; for, believe me, I hear, the parson is no jester. Hark, I will tell you

what our sport shall be.

Host. Hast thou no suit against my knight, my guest-cavalier?

Ford. None, I protest: but I'll give you a pottle of burnt sack to give me recourse, to

him, and tell him, my name is Brook; only for a jest.

2 Host. My hand, bully thou shalt have egress and regress; said I well? and thy name shall be Brook: It is a merry knight, Will you go on, hearts?

Shal. 'Have with you, mine host.

Page. I have heard, the Frenchman hath good skill in his rapier.

ses,

Shal. Tut, Sir, I could have told you more: In these times you stand on distance, your pas stoccadoes, and I know not what : tis the héart, Master Page 'tis here, 'tis here. I have scen the time, with my long sword, I would have made you four tall fellows skip like rats.

Host. Here, boys, here, here! shall we wag? Page. Have with you: I had rather hear them scold than fight

[Exeunt Host, SHALLOW and PAGE. Ford. Though Page be a secure fool, and stands so firmly on his wife's frailty yet F cannot put off my opinion so easily: She was in his company at Page's house; and, what they made there, I know not. Well, I will look further into't, and I have a disguise to sound Falstaff: If I find her honest, I lose not my labour; if she be otherwise, tis labour well bestow'd. [Exit.

SCENE 11

A Room in the Garter Inn.

Enter FALSTAFF and PISTOL.

Fal. I will not lend thee a penny.
Pist. Why, then the world's mine oyster,
Which I with sword will open.

I will retort the sum in equipage.

Fal. Not a penny. I have been content, Sir, you should lay my countenance to pawn: I have grated upon my good friends for three reprieves for you and your coach-fellow, Nyms or else you had looked through the grate, like a geminy of baboons. I am damn'd in hell, for swearing to gentlemen my friends, you were good soldiers and tall fellows: and when Mistress Bridget lost the handle of her fan, I took't upon mine honour, thou hadst it not.

Pist. Didst thou not share?

fifteen pence?

hadst thou not

Think'st thou,

Fal. Reason, you rogue, reason I'll endanger my soul gratis?. At a word, hang no more about me, I am no gibbet for you: go. A short knife and a throng; manor of Pickt hatch, go.m better for me, you rogue! your honour!

to your

You'll not bear a

you stand upon

Why, thou unconfinable baseness, it is as much as I can do, to keep the terms of my honour precise. I, I, I myself sometimes. leaving the fear of heaven on the left hand, and hiding mine honour in my necessity, am fain to shuffle, to hedge, and to lurch; and yet you, rogue, will ensconce your rags, your cat-a-moun tain looks, your red latice phrases, and your boldbeating oaths, under the shelter of your honour! You will not do it, you?

Pist. I do relent; What would'st thou more of man?