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wise physician, and sir Hugh hath shown himself a wise and patient churchman: you must go with me, master doctor. Host. Pardon, guest justice:—A word, monsieur Muck-water.” Caius. Muck-water' vat is dat? Host. Muck-water, in our English tongue, is valour, bully. Caius. By gar, then I have as much muck-water as de Englishman;–Scurvy jack-dog priest! by gar, me vill cut his ears. Host. He will clapper-claw thee tightly, bully. Caius. Clapper-de-claw' vat is dat? Host. That is, he will make thee amends. Caius. By gar, me do look, he shall clapper-de claw me; for, by gar, me vill have it. Host. And I will provoke him to't, or let him wag. Caius. Me tank you for dat. Host. And moreover, bully,–But first, master guest, and master Page, and eke cavalero Slender, go you through the town to Frogmore. [Aside to them. Page. Sir Hugh is there, is he? Host. He is there: see what humour he is in; and I will bring the doctorabout by the fields: willitaowell? Shal. We will do it. Page. Shal. and Slen. Adieu, good master doctor. [Eveunt PAGE, SHALLow, and SLENDER. Caius. By gar, me vill kill de priest; for he speak for a jack-an-ape to Anne Page. Host. Let him die: but, first, sheath thy impatience; throw cold water on thy choler: go about the fields with me through Frogmore; I will bring thee where mistress Anne Pageis, atafarm-housea feasting: and thou shall woo her: Cry’d game, said I well?’

* Muck-water.] i. e. drain of a dung-hill. 7 cry’d game, said I well?] An exclamation of encouragement.

Caius. By gar, me tank you for dat: by gar, I

love you; and I shall procure-a you de good guest, de earl, de knight, de lords, de gentlemen, my patlents. Host. For the which, I will be thy adversary towards Anne Page; said I well ? Caius. By gar, 'tis good; vell said. Host. Let us wag then. Caius. Come at my heels, Jack Rugby. [Ereunt.

ACT III.
SCENE I. A Field near Frogmore.

Enter Sir HUGH EvaNs and SIMPLE.

Eva. I pray you now, good master Slender's serving-man, and friend Simple by your name, which way have you looked for master Caius, that calls himself Doctor of Physick?

Sim. Marry, sir, the city-ward,” the park-ward, every way; old Windsor way, and every way but the town way.

Eva. I most fehemently desire you, you will also look that way.

Sim. I will, sir.

Eva. Pless my soul! how full of cholers I am. and trempling of mind!—I shall be glad, if he have deceived me —how melancholies I am —I will knog his urinals about his knave's costard, when I have good opportunities for the 'ork—'pless my soul! [Sings.

* — the city-ward, i. e. towards London.

To shallow rivers,” to whose falls
Melodious birds sings madrigals ;
There will we make our peds of roses,
And a thousand fagrant posies.
To shallow

'Mercy on me! I have a great dispositions to cry.

Melodious birds sing madrigals
/When as I sat in Pabylon,
And a thousand vagram posies.

To shallow

Sim. Yonder he is coming, this way, sir Hugh. Eva. He's welcome:

To Shallow rivers, to whose falls

Heaven prosper the right!—What weapons is he? Sim. No weapons, sir: There comes my master, master Shallow, and another gentleman from Frogmore, over the stile, this way. * Eva. Pray you, give me my gown ; or else keep it in your arms.

Enter PAGE, SHALLow, and SLENDER.

Shal. How now, master parson Good-morrow, good sir Hugh. Keep a gamester from the dice, and a good student from his book, and it is wonderful.

Slen. Ah, sweet Anne Page!

Page. Save you, good sir Hugh!

Eva. "Pless you from his mercy sake, all of you!

Shal. What! the sword and the word do you study them both, master parson 2

° To shallow rivers, &c.] This is part of a beautiful little poem, by Marlowe.

Page. And youthful still, in your doublet and

hose, this raw rheumatick day ?

Eva. There is reasons and causes for it.

Page. We are come to you, to do a good office, master parson.

Eva. Fery well: What is it?

Page. Yonder is a most reverend gentleman, who belike, having received wrong by some person, is at most odds with his own gravity and patience, that ever you saw.

Shal. I have lived fourscore years, and upward; I never heard a man of his place, gravity, and learning, so wide of his own respect.

Eva. What is he

Page. I think you know him; master doctor Caius, the renowned French Physician.

Eva. Got's will, and his passion of my heart! I had as lief you would tell me of a mess of porridge.

Page. Why?

Eva. He has no more knowledge in Hibocrates and Galen, and he is a knave besides; a cowardly knave, as you would desires to be acquainted withal.

Page. I warrant you, he's the man should fight with him.

Slen. O, sweet Anne Page!

Shal. It appears so, by his weapons:—Keep them

asunder;—here comes doctor Caius.

Enter Host, CAIUs, and RUGBY.

Page. Nay, good master parson, keep in your weapon.

Shal. So do you, good master doctor.

Host. Disarm them, and let them question; let them keep their limbs whole, and hack our English. Caius. I pray you, let-ame speak a word vityour ear: Verefore vill you not meet a-me? Eva. Pray you, use your patience: In good time. Caius. By gar, you are de coward, de Jack dog, John ape. Eva. Pray you let us not be laughing-stogs to other men's humours; I desire you in friendship, and I will one way or other make you amends:—I will knog your urinals about your knave's cogs.comb, for missing your meetings and appointments. Caius. Diable !—Jack Rugby, mine Host de Jarterre, have I not stay for him, to kill him 2 have I not, at de place I did appoint? Eva. As I am a christians soul, now, look you, this is the place appointed; I'll be judgment by mine host of the Garter. Host. Peace, I say, Guallia and Gaul, French and Welch; soul-curer and body-curer. Caius. Ay, dat is very good! excellent! Host. Peace, I say ; hear mine host of the Garter. Am I politick? am I subtle 2 am I a Machiavel? Shall I lose my doctor? no ; he gives me the potions, and the motions. Shall I lose my parson? my priest? my sir Hugh 2 no; he gives me the proverbs and the no-verbs.-Give me thy hand, terrestrial; so:—Give me thy hand, celestial; so. Boys of art, I have deceived you both ; I have directed you to wrong places; your hearts are mighty, your skins are whole, and let burnt sack be the issue.— Come, lay their swords to pawn:—Follow me, lad of peace ; follow, follow, follow. Shal. Trust me, a mad host:-Follow, gentlemen, follow. Slen. O, sweet Anne Page [Ereunt SHALLow, SLENDER, PAGE, and Host.

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