The Merry Wives of Windsor Part 34

_Slen._ Ile follow you sir, pray leade the way. 100 Nay be G.o.d misteris _Anne_, you shall goe first, I haue more manners then so, I hope.

_An._ Well sir, I will not be troublesome.

_Exit omnes._

NOTES: SCENE I

28: _strait_] _straight_ Halliwell.

85: _yon_] om.

_Enter Sir _Hugh_ and _Simple_, from dinner._ [SC. II.]

_Sir Hu._ Hark you _Simple_, pray you beare this letter to doctor _Cayus_ house, the French Doctor. He is twell vp along the street, and enquire of his house for one mistris _Quickly_, his woman, or his try nurse, and deliuer this Letter to her, it tis about Maister _Slender_.

Looke you, will you do it now? 5

_Sim._ I warrant you sir.

_Sir Hu._ Pray you do, I must not be absent at the grace.

I will goe make an end of my dinner, There is pepions and cheese behinde.

_Exit omnes._

_Enter Sir _Iohn Falstaffes_ Host of the Garter, _Nym_, _Bardolfe_, _Pistoll_, and the Boy._ [SC. III.]

_Fal._ Mine Host of the Garter.

_Host._ What ses my bully Rooke?

Speake schollerly and wisely.

_Fal._ Mine Host, I must turne away some of my followers.

_Host._ Discard bully, _Hercules_ ca.s.sire. 5 Let them wag, trot, trot.

_Fal._ I sit at ten pound a weeke.

_Host._ Thou art an Emperor _Caesar_, _Phesser_ and _Kesar_ bully.

Ile entertaine _Bardolfe_. He shall tap, he shall draw.

Said I well, bully _Hector_? 10

_Fal._ Do good mine Host.

_Host._ I haue spoke. Let him follow. _Bardolfe_ Let me see thee froth, and lyme. I am at A word. Follow, follow.

_Exit Host._

_Fal._ Do _Bardolfe_, a Tapster is a good trade, 15 An old cloake will make a new Ierkin, A withered seruingman, a fresh Tapster: Follow him _Bardolfe_.

_Bar._ I will sir, Ile warrant you Ile make a good s.h.i.+ft to liue.

_Exit Bardolfe._

_Pis._ O bace gongarian wight, wilt thou the spicket willd? 20

_Nym._ His minde is not heroick. And theres the humor of it.

_Fal._ Well my Laddes, I am almost out at the heeles.

_Pis._ Why then let cybes insue.

_Nym._ I thanke thee for that humor.

_Fal._ Well I am glad I am so rid of this tinder Boy. 25 His stealth was too open, his filching was like An vnskilfull singer, he kept not time.

_Nym._ The good humour is to steale at a minutes rest.

_Pis._ Tis so indeed _Nym_, thou hast hit it right.

_Fal._ Wel, afore G.o.d, I must cheat, I must conycatch. 30 Which of you knowes _Foord_ of this Towne?

_Pis._ I ken the wight, he is of substance good.

_Fal._ Well my honest Lads, Ile tell you what I am about.

_Pis._ Two yards and more.

_Fal._ No gibes now _Pistoll:_ indeed I am two yards In the wast, but now I am about no wast: Briefly, I am about thrift you rogues you, I do intend to make loue to Foords wife, I espie entertainment in her. She carues, she 40 Discourses. She giues the lyre of inuitation, And euery part to be constured rightly is, I am Syr _Iohn Falstaffes_.

_Pis._ Hee hath studied her well, out of honestie Into English. 45

_Fal._ Now the report goes, she hath all the rule Of her husbands purse. She hath legians of angels.

_Pis._ As many diuels attend her.

And to her boy say I.

_Fal._ Heree's a Letter to her. Heeres another to misteris _Page_. 50 Who euen now gaue me good eies too, examined my exteriors with such a greedy intention, with the beames of her beautie, that it seemed as she would a scorged me vp like a burning gla.s.se. Here is another Letter to her, shee beares the purse too. They shall be Excheckers to me, and Ile be cheaters to them both. They shall be my East 55 and West Indies, and Ile trade to them both. Heere beare thou this Letter to mistresse _Foord_. And thou this to mistresse _Page_. Weele thriue Lads, we will thriue.

_Pist._ Shall I sir Panderowes of _Troy_ become?

And by my sword were steele. 60 Then Lucifer take all.

_Nym._ Here, take your humor Letter againe, For my part, I will keepe the hauior Of reputation. And theres the humor of it.

_Fal._ Here sirrha beare me these Letters t.i.tely, 65 Saile like my pinnice to the golden sh.o.r.es: Hence slaues, avant. Vanish like hailstones, goe.

_Falstaffe_ will learne the humor of this age, French thrift you rogue, my selfe and scirted Page.

_Exit Falstaffe, and the Boy._