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then from the ward of her purity, her reputation, he marriage-vow, and a thousand other her defences, which now are too too strongly embattel'd against me. What say you to’t, Sir John?

Fal. Master Brook, I will first make bold with your mony; next, give me your hand; and last, as I am a gentleman, you shall, if you will, enjoy Ford's wife.

Ford. O good Sir!
Fal. Master Brock, I say, you shall.

Ford. Want no mony, Sir Jobn, you Ihall want none.

Fal. Want no mistress Ford, master Brook, you thal want none; I shall be with her, I may tell you, by her own appointment. Even as you came in to me, her assistant, or go-between, parted from me; I say, I shall be with her between ten and eleven; for at that time the jealous rascally knave, her husband, will be forth; come you to me at night, you shall know how I speed.

Ford. I am blest in your acquaintance: do you know Ford, Sir?

Fal. Hang him, poor cuckoldly knave, I know him not : yet I wrong him, to call him poor; they say, the jealous witcolly knave hath masses of mony, for the which his wife seems to be well-favour'd. I will use her as the key of the cuckoldly-rogue's coffer ; and there's my harvest-home.

Ford. I would you knew Ford, Sir, that you might avoid him, if you saw him.

Fal. Hang him, mechanical salt-butter rogue ; I will stare him out of his wits; I will awe him with my cudgel; it shall hang like a meteor o'er the Cuckold's horns. Master Brook, thou shalt know, I will predo. minate over the peasant; and thou shalt lye with his wife: Come to me foon at night; Ford's a knave, and I will aggravate his stile: thou, master Brook, ihale know him for knave and cuckold: come to me foon at night.

(Exit. SCENE

S C Ε Ν Ε Χ.

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- Ford. What a damn'd Epicurean rascal is this! my heart is ready to crack with impatience. Who says, this is improvident jealousie? my wife hath sent to him, the hour is fixt, the match is made; would any man have thought this? see the hell of having a false woman! my bed shall be abus'd, my coffers ransack'd, my reputation gnawn at; and I shall not only receive this villainous wrong, but stand under the adoption of abominable terms, and by him that does me the wrong. Terms, names; Amaimon sounds well; Lucifer, well; Barbafon, well; yet they are devils' additions, the names of fiends: but cuckold, wittol, cuckold! the devil himself hath not such a name. Page is an afs, a fecure ass, he will trust his wife; he will not be jealous : I will rather trust a Fleming with my butter, parson Hugh the Welchman with my cheese, an Irishman with my Aquavitæ bottle, or a thief to walk my ambling gelding, than my wife with herself: then she plots, then she ruminates, then she devises: and what they think in their hearts they may effect, they will break their hearts but they will effect. Heav'n be prais'd for my jealousie! Eleven o'clock the hour; I will prevent this, detect my wife, be reveng'd on Falstaff, and laugh at Page: I will about it: better three hours too soon, than a minute too late. Fie, fie, fie; cuckold, cuckold, cuckold!

(Exit. S C Ε Ν Ε ΧΙ,

Changes to Windsor Park.

Enter Caius and Rugby.
Caius. TACK Rugby !

Rug. Sir.
Caius. Var is de clock, Jack?


VOL. 1.

Rug. 'Tis past the hour, Sir, that Sir Hugh promis'a to meet.

Caius. By gar, he has save his soul, dat he is no come; he has pray his pible well, dat he is no come: by gar, Jack Rugby, he is dead already, if he be come.

Rug. He is wise, Sir; he knew, your worship would kill him, if he came.

Caius. By gar, de herring is not + so dead as me vill make him. Take your rapier, Jack; I vill tell you how I will kill him.

Rug. Alas, Sir, I cannot fence.
Caius. Villany, take your rapier.
Rug. Forbear; here's company.

Enter Hoft, Shallow, Slender and Page.
Host. 'Bless thee, bully Doctor.
Shal. 'Save you, Mr. Doctor Caius.
Page. Now, good Mr. Doctor.
Slen, Give you good morrow, Sir.

Caius. Vat be all you, one, two, tree, four, come for ?

Hot. To see thee fight, to see thee foigne, to fee thee traverse, to see thee here, to see thee there, to see thee pass thy puncto, thy stock, thy reverse, thy distance, thy montant. Is he dead, my Ethiopian? Is he dead, my Françoyes? ha, bully? what says my Æsculapius? my Galen? my heart of elder? ha? is he dead, bully-itale? is he dead?

Caius. By gar, he is de coward Jack-Priest of de vorld; he is not show his face.

Hoft. Thou art a Castalion-king-Urinal : Hestor of Greece, my boy.

Caius. I pray you bear witness, that me have stay six or seven, two, tree hours for him, and he is no come.

Shal. He is the wiser man, Mr. Doctor; he is a curer 4 Quarto Edition, 1619.

Mr. Pope.


of souls, and you a curer of bodies: if you should fight, you go against the hair of your professions : Is it not true, master Page?

Page. Master Shallow, you have yourself been a great fighter, tho' now a man of peace. .

Shal. Body-kins, Mr. Page, tho' I now be old, and of peace, if I see a sword out, my finger itches to make one; tho' we are justices, and doctors, and churchmen, Mr. Page, we have some salt of our youth in us; we are the sons of women, Mr. Page.

Page. 'Tis true, Mr. Shallow.

Shal. It will be found so, Mr. Page. Mr. Doctor Caius, I am come to fetch you home; I am sworn of the peace; you have shew'd yourself a wise physician, and Sir Hugh hath shown himself a wise and patient church-man: you must go with me, Mr. Doctor.

Hoft. Pardon, guest-justice; a word, Monsieur mock-water.

Caius. Mock-vater? vat is dat?

Hoft. Mock-water, in our English tongue, is valour, bully.

Caius. By gar, then I have as much mock-vater as de Englishman, scurvy-jack-dog-priest; by gar, me vill cut his ears.

Hoft. He will clapper-claw thee tightly, bully.
Caius. Clapper-de-claw ? vat is dat?"
Hoft. 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. .

Hoft. And I will provoke him to’t, or let him wag,
Caius. Me tank you for dat.

Hoft. And moreover, bully : but first, Mr. Guest, and Mr. Page, and eek Cavaliero Slender, go you through the town to Frogmore.

Page. Sir Hugh is there, is he?

Host. He is there; see, what humour he is in; and I will bring the Doctor about the fields : will it do well?

U 2


Shal. We will do it.
All. Adieu, good Mr. Doctor.

(Exeunt Page, Shallow and Slender. Caius. By gär, 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 Page is, at a farm-house a feasting ; and thou shalt woo her. Cry aim, said I well?

5 I will bring thee where Anne Page is, at a farm-beale a feailing; and thou shalt woo her, crY'D GAME ; faid I well? Mr. Theobald alters this nonsense to try'd game; that is, to notsense of a worse complexion. Shakespear wrote and pointed thus, CRY A IM, said I well? i. e, consent to it, approve of it. Have not I made a good proposal? for to cry aim fignifies to consent to, or approve of any thing. So again in this play, p. 300, And to these violent proceedings all my neighbours fall CRY AIM, i. e. approve them. And again in King Jobn, Act 2. Scene 2,

It ill becomes this presence to CRY AIM

To thefe ill-tuned repetitions, 3. e. to approve of, or encourage them. The phrase was taken, originally, from archery. When any one had challenged another to thoot at the butts (the perpetual diversion, as well as exercise, of that time) the standers-by used to say one to the other, Cry aim, i. e. accept the challenge. Thus Beaumont and Flercber, is the Fair maid of the inn, Adt 5, make the Duke fay,

maj I cry AIME To this unheard of infolence i.e. encourage it, and agree to the request of the duel, which one of his subjects had insolently demanded against the other. Bet here it is remarkable, that the senseless editors not knowing what to make of the phrase Cry aim, read it thus,

muff I cry Al-ME: As if it was a note of interjection. So again Maffinger in his Guardian,

I will CRY AIM, and in another room

Determine of my vengeance -
And again, in his Renegado,

to play the Pandor
To the Viceroy's loose embraces, and CRY AIM,

While he by force or flattery But the Oxford Editor transforms it to Cock o' tb' Game; and his improvements of Shakespear's language abound with these modern elegancies of speech, such as Mynbeers, Bull-baiting;, &c.

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