Mrs. Page. Quick, quick, we'll come dress you ftraight: put on the gown the while. [Exit Falstaff. Mrs. Ford. I would, my husband would meet him in this fhape: he cannot abide the old woman of Brentford; hefwears, fhe's a witch; forbade her my house, and hath threatened to beat her.

Mrs. Page. Heaven guide him to thy husband's cudgel; and the devil guide his cudgel afterwards! Mrs. Ford. But is my hufband coming?

Mrs. Page. Ay, in good fadness, is he; and talks of the basket too, howloever he hath had intelligence. Mrs. Ford. We'll try that; for I'll appoint my men to carry the basket again, to meet him at the door with it, as they did last time.

Mrs. Page. Nay, but he'll be here presently: let's go drefs him like the witch of Brentford.

Mrs. Ford. I'll firft direct my men what they shall do with the basket. Go up, I'll bring linen for him ftraight.

Mrs. Page. Hang him, dishonest varlet! we cannot mifufe him enough.

We'll leave a proof, by that which we will do,
Wives may be merry, and yet honest too:
We do not act, that often jeft and laugh;
'Tis old but true, Still fwine eat all the draugh.

Mrs. Ford. Go, Sirs, take the basket again on your fhoulders; your mafter is hard at door; if he bid you fet it down, obey him: quickly, dispatch.

[Exit Mrs. Page and Mrs. Ford.

Enter Servants with the basket.

I Serv. Come, come, take up.

2 Serv. Pray heaven, it be not full of the knight again.

1 Serv. I hope not; I had as lief bear fo much lead.

Enter

Enter Ford, Shallow, Page, Caius, and Evans. Ford. Ay, but if it prove true, master Page, have you any way then to unfool me again? --Set down the basket, villain:-fomebody call my wife :-youth in a basket!-Oh, you panderly rafcals! there's a knot, a gang, a pack, a confpiracy, against me: now fhall the devil be fham'd. What! wife, I fay! come, come forth; behold what honeft cloaths you fend forth to bleaching.

Page. Why, this paffes! Master Ford, you are not to go loose any longer; you must be pinion'd. Eva. Why, this is lunaticks: this is mad as a mad dog.

Enter Mrs. Ford.

Shal. Indeed, mafter Ford, this is not well; indeed. Ford. So fay I too, Sir.-Come hither, mistress Ford;-mistress Ford, the honeft woman, the modest wife, the virtuous creature, that hath the jealous fool to her husband!-I fufpect without caufe, mistress, do I?

Mrs. Ford. Heaven be my witness, you do, if you fufpect me in any dishonesty.

Ford. Well faid, brazen-face; hold it out.-Come forth, firrah. [Pulls the cloaths out of the basket.

Page. This paffes

Mrs. Ford. Are you not asham'd? let the cloaths alone.

Ford. I fhall find you anon.

Eva. 'Tis unreasonable: will you take up your wife's cloaths? come away.

Ford. Empty the basket, I say.

Mrs. Ford. Why, man, why

Ford. Mafter Page, as I am a man, there was one convey'd out of my houfe yesterday in this basket; why may not he be there again? In my houfe I am fure he is my intelligence is true; my jealoufy is reasonable; pluck me out all the linen.

Mrs.

Mrs. Ford. If you find a man there, he fhall die a flea's death.

Page. Here's no man.

Shal. By my fidelity, this is not well, master Ford; this wrongs you.

Eva. Mafter Ford, you must pray, and not follow the imaginations of your own heart: this is jealoufies. Ford. Well, he's not here I feek for.

Page. No, nor no where else but in your brain.

Ford. Help to fearch my house this one time: if I find not what I feek, fhew no colour for my extremity; let me for ever be your table-fport; let them fay of me, As jealous as Ford, that fearch'd a hollow wall-nut for his wife's leman. Satisfy me once more, once more fearch with me.

Mrs. Ford. What hoa, mistress Page! come you, and the old woman down; my husband will come into the chamber.

Ford. Old woman! what old woman's that?

Mrs. Ford. Why, it is my maid's aunt of Brentford.

Ford. A witch, a quean, an old cozening quean! Have I not forbid her my houfe? She comes of errands, does the? We are fimple men; we do not know what's brought to pafs under the profeffion of fortune-telling. She works by charms, by fpells, by the figure; and fuch dawbery as this is; beyond our element we know nothing. Come down, you witch; you hag you, come down, I say.

Mrs. Ford. Nay, good fweet hufband; good gentleman, let him not strike the old woman.

1 this wrongs you.] This is below your character, unworthy of your understanding, injurious to your honour. So in The Taming of the Shrew, Bianca, being ill treated by her rugged fifter, fays:

You wrong me much, indeed you wrong yourself."
JOHNSON.

Enter

Enter Falstaff in womens' cloaths, led by Mrs. Page.

Mrs. Page. Come, mother Prat, come, give me your hand.

Ford. I'll Prat her.

Out of my door, you witch! [Beats bim.] You hag, you baggage, you poulcat, you 2 ronyon! out! out! out! I'll conjure you, I'll fortune-tell you. [Exit Fal. Mrs. Page. Are you not afham'd? I think, you have kill'd the poor woman.

Mrs. Ford. Nay, he will do it.-'Tis a goodly credit for you.

Ford. Hang her, witch!

Eva. By yea and no, I think, the 'oman is a witch indeed I like not when a 'omans has a great peard; 3 I spy a great peard under his muffler.

4

Ford. Will you follow, gentlemen? I beseech you, follow; fee but the iffue of my jealoufy: if I cry out thus upon no trail, never truft me when I open again.

Pege. Let's obey his humour a little further: come, gentlemen. [Exeunt. Mrs. Page. Trust me, he beat him moft pitifully. Mrs. Ford. Nay, by the mafs, that he did not; he beat him moft unpitifully, methought.

Mrs. Page. I'll have the cudgel hallow'd, and hung o'er the altar; it hath done meritorious fervice.

Mrs. Ford. What think you? inay we, with the

2 ronyon!- -] Ronyon, applied to a woman, means, as far as can be traced, much the fame with fcall or scab fpoken of a man. JOHNSON.

3 I Spy a great peard under his muffler.] As the fecond ftratagem, by which Falstaff efcapes, is much the groffer of the two, I wish it had been practifed first. It is very unlikely that Ford, having been fo deceived before, and knowing that he had been deceived, would fuffer him to efcape in fo flight a difguife. JOHNSON.

4

cry out upon no trail,-] The expreffion is taken from the hunters. Trail is the fcent left by the paffage of the game. To cry out, is to open or bark. JOHNSON.

warrant

warrant of woman-hood, and the witnefs of a good confcience, purfue him with any further revenge?

Mrs. Page. The spirit of wantonnefs is, fure, scar'd out of him; if the devil have him not in fee-fimple, with fine and recovery, he will never, I think, in the way of wafte, attempt us again.

Mrs. Ford. Shall we tell our hufbands how we have ferved him?

Mrs. Page. Yea, by all means; if it be but to fcrape the figures out of your husband's brains. If they can find in their hearts the poor unvirtuous fat knight fhall be any further afflicted, we too will still be the minifters.

Mrs. Ford. I'll warrant they'll have him publickly fham'd: and, methinks, there would be no period to the jeft, fhould he not be publickly fham'd.

Mrs. Page. Come to the forge with it, then fhape it I would not have things cool, [Exeunt.

Changes to the Garter inn.

Enter Hoft and Bardolph.

Bard. Sir, the Germans defire to have three of your horfes the duke himself will be to-morrow at court, and they are going to meet him.

Hoft. What duke fhould that be, comes fo fecretly? I hear not of him in the court: let me fpeak with the gentlemen; they fpeak English?

Bard. Sir, I'll call them to you.

Hoft. They fhall have my horfes; but I'll make them pay, I'll fawce them. They have had my house a week at command; I have turn'd away my other guefts: 5 they must come off, I'll fawce them, come. [Exeunt.

they must cOME off;] This never can be our poet's or his hoft's meaning. To come off being in other terms to go fast-free. We muit read, coмPT off, i. e. clear their reckoning. WARBURTON.

Yo