The Merry Wives of Windsor Part 23

41: _Accusativo_] _accusative_ F3 F4.

_hinc_] _hunc_ Halliwell.

43: _hung_] Pope. _hing_ Ff Q3.

56: _Jenny's_] _Ginyes_ Ff Q3.

63: _lunaties_] Ff Q3. _lunacies_ Rowe. _lunaticks_ Capell.

64: _of_] _and_ Collier MS.

65: _desires_] _desire_ Pope.

70, 71: _quae ... quaes_] _que ... ques_ Ff Q3.

SCENE II. _A room in FORD'S house._

_Enter FALSTAFF and MISTRESS FORD._

_Fal._ Mistress Ford, your sorrow hath eaten up my sufferance. I see you are obsequious in your love, and I profess requital to a hair's breadth; not only, Mistress Ford, in the simple office of love, but in all the accoutrement, complement, and ceremony of it. But are you sure 5 of your husband now?

_Mrs Ford._ He's a-birding, sweet Sir John.

_Mrs Page._ [_Within_] What, ho, gossip Ford! what, ho!

_Mrs Ford._ Step into the chamber, Sir John.

[_Exit Falstaff._

_Enter MISTRESS PAGE._

_Mrs Page._ How now, sweetheart! who's at home besides 10 yourself?

_Mrs Ford._ Why, none but mine own people.

_Mrs Page._ Indeed!

_Mrs Ford._ No, certainly. [_Aside to her_] Speak louder.

_Mrs Page._ Truly, I am so glad you have n.o.body here. 15

_Mrs Ford._ Why?

_Mrs Page._ Why, woman, your husband is in his old lunes again: he so takes on yonder with my husband; so rails against all married mankind; so curses all Eve's daughters, of what complexion soever; and so buffets himself 20 on the forehead, crying, 'Peer out, peer out!' that any madness I ever yet beheld seemed but tameness, civility, and patience, to this his distemper he is in now: I am glad the fat knight is not here.

_Mrs Ford._ Why, does he talk of him? 25

_Mrs Page._ Of none but him; and swears he was carried out, the last time he searched for him, in a basket; protests to my husband he is now here; and hath drawn him and the rest of their company from their sport, to make another experiment of his suspicion: but I am glad the 30 knight is not here; now he shall see his own foolery.

_Mrs Ford._ How near is he, Mistress Page?

_Mrs Page._ Hard by; at street end; he will be here anon.

_Mrs Ford._ I am undone!--the knight is here.

_Mrs Page._ Why, then, you are utterly shamed, and 35 he's but a dead man. What a woman are you!--Away with him, away with him! better shame than murder.

_Mrs Ford._ Which way should he go? how should I bestow him? Shall I put him into the basket again?

_Re-enter FALSTAFF._

_Fal._ No, I'll come no more i' the basket. May I not 40 go out ere he come?

_Mrs Page._ Alas, three of Master Ford's brothers watch the door with pistols, that none shall issue out; otherwise you might slip away ere he came. But what make you here? 45

_Fal._ What shall I do?--I'll creep up into the chimney.

_Mrs Ford._ There they always use to discharge their birding-pieces. Creep into the kiln-hole.

_Fal._ Where is it?

_Mrs Ford._ He will seek there, on my word. Neither 50 press, coffer, chest, trunk, well, vault, but he hath an abstract for the remembrance of such places, and goes to them by his note: there is no hiding you in the house.

_Fal._ I'll go out, then.

_Mrs Page._ If you go out in your own semblance, you 55 die, Sir John. Unless you go out disguised,--

_Mrs Ford._ How might we disguise him?

_Mrs Page._ Alas the day, I know not! There is no woman's gown big enough for him; otherwise he might put on a hat, a m.u.f.fler, and a kerchief, and so escape. 60

_Fal._ Good hearts, devise something: any extremity rather than a mischief.

_Mrs Ford._ My maid's aunt, the fat woman of Brentford, has a gown above.

_Mrs Page._ On my word, it will serve him; she's as big 65 as he is: and there's her thrummed hat, and her m.u.f.fler too. Run up, Sir John.

_Mrs Ford._ Go, go, sweet Sir John: Mistress Page and I will look some linen for your head.

_Mrs Page._ Quick, quick! we'll come dress you straight: 70 put on the gown the while. [_Exit Falstaff._

_Mrs Ford._ I would my husband would meet him in this shape: he cannot abide the old woman of Brentford; he swears she's a witch; forbade her my house, and hath threatened to beat her. 75

_Mrs Page._ Heaven guide him to thy husband's cudgel, and the devil guide his cudgel afterwards!

_Mrs Ford._ But is my husband coming?

_Mrs Page._ Ay, in good sadness, is he; and talks of the basket too, howsoever he hath had intelligence. 80

_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 dress him like the witch of Brentford. 85

_Mrs Ford._ I'll first direct my men what they shall do with the basket. Go up; I'll bring linen for him straight.

[_Exit._