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Her mother ever strong against that match,
With ribands pendant, flaring 'bout her head:
Fent. Both, my good host, to go along with me:
Host. Well, husband your device; I'll to the vicar; Bring you the maid, you shall not lack a priest. Fent. So shall I evermore be bound to thee; Besides, I'll make a present recompense. [Exeunt.
SCENE I.-A Room in the Garter Inn.
Enter FALSTAFF and Mrs. QUICKLY. Fal. Pr'ythee, no more prattling;-- go. I'll hold: This is the third time; I hope good luck lies in odd numbers. Away, go; they say, there is divinity in odd numbers, either in nativity, chance, or death.Away.
Quick. I'll provide you a chain; and I'll do what I can to get you a pair of horns. Fal. Away, I say; time wears: hold up your head, and mince. [Exit Mrs. QUICKLY. Enter FORD. How now, master Brook? master Brook, the matter will be known to-night, or never. Be you in the Park about midnight, at Herne's oak, and you shall see wonders.
Ford. Went you not to her yesterday, sir, as you told me you had appointed!
Fal. I went to her, master Brook, as you see, like a poor old man: but I came from her, master Brook, like a poor old woman. That same knave, Ford, her husband, hath the finest mad devil of jealousy in him, master Brook, that ever governed frenzy. I will tell you. He beat me grievously, in the shape of a woman: for in the shape of man, master Brook, I fear not Goliath with a weaver's beam; because I know also, life is a shuttle. I am in haste; go along with me; I'll tell you all master Brook. Since I plucked geese, played truant, and whipped top, I knew not what it was to be beaten, till lately. Follow me: I'll tell you strange things of this knave Ford: on whom to-night I will be
revenged, and I will deliver his wife into your hand. --Follow: Strange things in hand, master Brook! [Exeunt.
SCENE II.-Windsor Park.
Enter PAGE, SHALLOW, and SLENDER. Page. Come, come; we'll couch i' the castleditch, till we see the light of our fairies.-- Remember, son Slender, my daughter.
Sten. Ay, forsooth; I have spoke with her, and we have a nay-word, how to know one another. I come to her in white, and cry mum; she cries budget; and by that we know one another.
Shal. That's good too: But what needs either your mum or her budget? the white will decipher her well enough.-It hath struck ten o'clock.
Page. The night is dark; light and spirits will become it well. Heaven prosper our sport! No man means evil but the devil, and we shall know him by his horns. Let's away; follow me.
Caius. I know vat I have to do; Adieu. Mrs. Page. Fare you well sir.
My husband will not rejoice so much at the abuse of Falstaff, as he will chafe at the doctor's marrying my daughter: but 'tis no matter; better a little chiding than a great deal of heart-break.
Mrs. Ford. Where is Nan now, and her troop of fairies? and the Welsh devil, Hugh?
Mrs. Page. They are all couched in a pit hard by Herne's oak, with obscured lights: which at the very instant of Falstaff's and our meeting, they will at once display to the night.
Mrs. Ford. That cannot choose but amaze him. Mrs. Page. If he be not amazed, he will be mocked; if he be amazed, he will every way be mocked.
Mrs. Ford. We'll betray him finely. Mrs. Page. Against such lewdsters, and their lechery,
Those that betray them do no treachery. Mrs. Ford. The hour draws on; to the oak, to the oak! [Exeunt.
SCENE IV.- Windsor Park.
Enter Sir HUGH EVANS, and Fairies. Eva. Trib, trib, fairies; come; and remember your parts: be pold, I pray you; follow me into the pit; and when give the watch 'ords, do as I pid you; Come, come; trib, trib. [Exeunt.
SCENE V.- Another Part of the Park. Enter FALSTAFF disguised, with a buck's head on. minute draws on: Now, the hot-blooded gods assist Fal. The Windsor bell hath struck twelve; the me!-Remember, Jove, thou wast a bull for thy Europa; love set on thy horns.- powerful love! that, in some respects, makes a beast a man; in some other, a man a beast. You were also, Jupi ter, a swan, for the love of Leda; 0, omnipotent love! how near the god drew to the complexion of a goose! A fault done first in the form of a beast; in the semblance of a fowl; think on't Jove, a foul - Jove, a beastly fault! and then another fault fault. When gods have hot backs, what shall poor men do? For me, I am here a Windsor stag; and the fattest, I think i' the forest: send me a cool ruttime, Jove, or who can blame me to piss my tallow! Who comes here! my doe?
Enter Mrs. FORD and Mrs. PAGE.
Mrs. Ford. Sir John? art thou there, my deer? male deer? my
Fal. My doe with the black scut?-Let the sky rain potatoes; let it thunder to the tune of Green Sleeves; hail kissing comfits, and snow eringoes; let there come a tempest of provocation, I will shelter me here. [Embracing her. Mrs. Ford. Mistress Page is come with me, sweet-heart.
Fal. Divide me like a bribe-buck, each a haunch: I will keep my sides to myself, my shoulders for the fellow of this walk, and my horns I bequeath your husbands. Am I a woodman? ha! Speak I
Fal. I think the devil will not have me damned, lest the oil that is in me should set hell on fire; he would never else cross me thus.
Enter Sir HUGH EVANS like a satyr; Mrs. QUICKLY and PISTOL; ANNE PAGE as the Fairy Queen, attended by her brother and others, dressed like fairies, with waxen tapers on their heads.
Quick. Fairies, black, grey, green and white,
Pist. Elves, list your names; silence, you airy toys. Cricket, to Windsor chimney shalt thou leap: Where fires thou find'st unrak'd, and hearths unswept,
There pinch the maids as blue as bilberry:
I'll wink and couch: No man their works must eye. [Lies down upon his face. Eva. Where's Pede?. Go you, and where you find a maid,
That, ere she sleep, has thrice her prayers said,
Quick. About, about;
Search Windsor Castle, elves, within and out;
Eva. Pray you, lock hand in hand; yourselves
in order set:
And twenty glow-worms shall our lanterns be,
Fal. Heavens defend me from that Welsh fairy! lest he transform me to a piece of cheese! Pist. Vile worm, thou wast o'erlooked even in thy birth.
Quick. With trial-fire touch me his finger-end: If he be chaste, the flame will back descend, And turn him to no pain: but if he start,
It is the flesh of a corrupted heart.
Pist. A trial, come.
Eva. Come, will this wood take fire?
[They burn him with their tapers. Fal. Oh, oh, oh! Quick. Corrupt, corrupt, and tainted in desire! About him, fairies; sing a scornful rhyme: And, as you trip, still pinch him to your time. Era. It is right; indeed he is full of lecheries and iniquity.
Fye on sinful fantasy!
Fed in heart; whose flames aspire,
As thoughts do blow them, higher and higher.
Pinch him, and burn him, and turn him about, Till candles, and starlight, and moonshine be out. During this song, the fairies pinch Falstaff. Doctor Caius comes one way, and steals away a fairy in green; Slender another way, and takes off a fairy in white; and Fenton comes, and steals away Mrs. Anne Page. A noise of hunting is made within. All the fairies run away. Falstaff pulls off his buck's head, and rises.]
Enter PAGE, FORD, Mrs. PAGE, and Mrs. FORD. They lay hold on him.
Page. Nay, do not fly; I think we have watch'd you now;
Will none but Herne the hunter serve your turn?
Ford. Now, sir, who's a cuckold now? -- Master Brook, Falstaff's a knave, a cockoldly knave; here are his horns, master Brook: And, master Brook, he hath enjoyed nothing of Ford's but his buckbasket, his cudgel, and twenty pounds of money; which must be paid to master Brook; his horses
are arrested for it, master Brook.
Mrs. Ford. Sir John, we have had ill luck: we could never meet. I will never take you for my love again, but I will always count you my deer." Fal. I do begin to perceive that I am inade an
Ford. Ay, and an ox too; both the proofs are
Fal. And these are not fairies? I was three or four times in the thought, they were not fairies: and yet the guiltiness of my mind, the sudden surprise of my powers, drove the grossness of the foppery into a received belief, in despite of the teeth of all rhyme and reason, that they were fairies. See now, how wit may be made a jack-a-lent, when 'tis upon ill employment.
Eva. Sir John Falstaff, serve Got, and leave your desires, and fairies will not pinse you.
Ford. Well said, fairy Hugh.
Eva. And leave you your jealousies too, I pray you.
Ford. I will never mistrust my wife again, till thou art able to woo her in good English.
Fal. Have I laid my brain in the sun, and dried it, that it wants matter to prevent so gross o'erreaching as this? Am I ridden with a Welsh goat too? Shall I have a coxcomb of frize? 'tis time I were choked with a piece of toasted cheese.
Eva. Seese is not good to give putter; your pelly is all putter.
the taunt of one that makes fritters of English? Fal. Seese and putter! Have I lived to stand at This is enough to be the decay of late-walking through the realm.
Mrs. Page. Why, sir John, do you think, though we would have thrust virtue out of our hearts by the head and shoulders, and have given ourselves without scruple to hell, that ever the devil could have made you our delight?
Ford. What, a hodge-pudding? a bag of flax? Mrs. Page. A pulled man?
Page. Old, cold, withered, and of intolerable
Ford. And one that is as slanderous as Satan? Page. And as poor as Job?
Ford. And as wicked as his wife?
Eva. And given to fornications, and to taverns, and sack, and wine, and metheglins, and to drinkings, and swearings, and starings, pribbles and prabbles?
Fal. Well, I am your theme: you have the start of me: I am dejected; I am not able to answer the Welsh flannel; ignorance itself is a plummet o'er me: use me as you will.
Ford. Marry, sir, we'll bring you to Windsor, to one master Brook, that you have cozened of money
Horns which Falstaff had.
to whom you should have been a pander: over and above that you have suffered, I think to repay that money will be a biting affliction.
Mrs. Ford. Nay, husband, let that go to make amends.
Forgive that sum, and so we'll all be friends. Ford. Well, here's my hand; all's forgiven at last. Page. Yet be cheerful, knight: thou shalt eat a posset to night at my house; where I will desire thee to laugh at my wife that now laughs at thee: Tell her, master Slender hath married her daughter. Mrs. Page. Doctors doubt that:- If Anne Page be my daughter, she is, by this, doctor Caius's wife. [Aside. Enter SLENDER.
Slen. Whoo, ho! ho! father Page! Page. Son! how now! how now, son? have you despatched?
Slen. Despatched-I'll make the best in Gloucestershire know on't; would I were hanged, la,
Page. Of what, son?
Sten. I came yonder at Eton to marry mistress Anne Page, and she's a great lubberly boy: If it had not been i' the church, I would have swinged him, or he should have swinged me. If I did not think it had been Anne Page, would I might never stir, and 'tis a post-master's boy.
Page. Upon my life, then, you took the wrong. Sten. What need you tell me that? I think so, when I took a boy for a girl: If I had been married to him, for all he was in woman's apparel, I would not have had him.
Page. Why, this is your own folly. Did not I tell you, how you should know my daughter by her garments?
Slen. I went to her in white, and cried mum, and she cry'd budget, as Anne and I had appointed; and yet it was not Anne, but a post-master's boy. Eva. Jeshu! Master Slender, cannot you see but marry boys?
Page. O, I am vexed at heart: What shall I do! Mrs. Page. Good George, be not angry: I knew of your purpose: turned my daughter into green; and, indeed, she is now with the doctor at the deanery, and there married.
Caius. Vere is mistress Page! By gar, I am cozened; I ha' married un garcon, a boy; un paisan,
by gar, a boy; it is not Anne Page: by gar, I am cozened.
Mrs. Page. Why, did you take her in green? Caius. Aye, by gar, and 'tis a boy: by gar, I'll raise all Windsor. [Exit CAIUS. Ford. This is strange: Who hath got the right Anne?
Page. My heart misgives me: Here comes master Fenton.
Enter FENTON and ANNE PAGE. How now, master Fenton ? Anne. Pardon, good father! good my mother, pardon!
Page. Now, mistress! how chance you went not with master Slender?
Mrs. Page, Why went you not with master doc
Fent. You do amaze her: Hear the truth of it. You would have married her most shamefully, Where there was no proportion held in love. The truth is, she and 1, long since contracted, Are now so sure, that nothing can dissolve us. The offence is holy, that she hath committed: And this deceit loses the name of craft, Of disobedience, or unduteous title; Since therein she doth evitate and shun A thousand irreligious cursed hours, Which forced marriage would have brought upon her.
Ford. Stand not amaz'd: here is no remedy:In love, the heavens themselves do guide the state; Money buys lands, and wives are sold by fate.
Fal. I am glad, though you have ta'en a special stand to strike at me, that your arrow hath glanced. Page. Well, what remedy? Fenton, heaven give thee joy!
What cannot be eschew'd must be embrac'd. Fal. When night-dogs run, all sorts of deer are chas'd.
Eva. I will dance and eat plums at your wedding. Mrs. Page, Well, I will muse no further:Master Fenton,
Heaven give you many, many merry days!
SCENE I.-An Apartment in the Duke's palace.
But falls into abatement and low price,
Even in a minute! so full of shapes is fancy
Cur. Will you go hunt, my lord?
Methought, she purg'd the air of pestilence;
That instant was I turned into a hart;
And my desires, like fell and cruel hounds,
Assure yourself, after our ship did split,
When you, and that poor number saved with you,
E'er since pursue me.- How now? what news Hung on our driving boat, I saw your brother, from her?
Val. So please my lord, I might not be admitted, But from her handmaid do return this answer: The element itself, till seven years' heat, Shall not behold her face at ample view; But, like a cloistress, she will veiled walk, And water once a day her chamber round With eye offending brine: all this, to season A brother's dead love, which she would keep fresh And lasting, in her sad remembrance.
Duke. O, she, that hath a heart of that fine frame,
Most provident in peril, bind himself
(Courage and hope both teaching him the practice)
I saw him hold acquaintance with the waves,
In the protection of his son, her brother,
That were hard to compass; Because she will admit no kind of suit, No, not the duke's.
Tio. There is a fair behavior in thee, captain;
I will believe, thou hast a mind that suits
SCENE III.- A Room in Olivia's House.
Enter Sir TOBY BELCH, and MARIA.
Sir To. What a plague means my neice, to take the death of her brother thus? I am sure care's an enemy to life.
Mar. By troth, sir Toby, you must come in earlier o' nights; your cousin, my lady, takes great exceptions to your ill hours.
Sir To. Why, let her except before excepted. Mar. Ay, but you must confine yourself within the modest limits of order.
Sir To. Confine! I'll confine myself no finer than I am: these clothes are good enough to drink in, and so be these boots too; an they be not, let them hang themselves in their own straps.
Mar. That quaffing and drinking will undo you. I heard my lady talk of it yesterday; and of a foolish knight, that you brought in one night here, to be her wooer.
Sir To. Who? Sir Andrew Ague-cheek?
Sir To. He's as tall a man as any's in Illyria.
Sir To. Why, he has three thousand ducats a year.
Mar. Ay, but he'll have but a year in all these ducats; he's a very fool, and a prodigal.
Sir To. Fye, that you'll say so! he plays o' the viol-de-gambo, and speaks three or four languages word for word without book, and hath all the good gifts of nature.
Mar. He hath, indeed,—almost natural: for, besides that he's a fool, he's a great quarreler; and but that he hath the gift of a coward to allay the gust he hath in quarrelling, 'tis thought among the prudent, he would quickly have the gift of a grave. Sir To. By this hand, they are scoundrels, and substractors, that say so of him. Who are they? Mar. They that add moreover, he's drunk nightly in your company
Sir To. With drinking healths to my niece; I'll drink to her, as long as there's a passage in my throat, and drink in Illyria: He's a coward, and a
coystril, that will not drink to my neice, till his brains turn o' the toe like a parish-top. What, wench? Castiliano vulgo; for here comes sir Andrew Ague-face.
Enter Sir ANDREW AGUE-CHEEK.
Sir And. Sir Toby Belch! how now, sir Toby Belch!
Sir To. Sweet sir Andrew!
Sir And. Bless you, fair shrew.
Sir To. Accost, sir Andrew, accost.
Sir And. What's that?
Sir To. My neice's chamber-maid.
Sir And. Good mistress Accost, I desire better acquaintance.
Mur. My name is Mary, sir.
Sir And. Good mistress Mary Accost,-Sir To. You mistake, knight: accost is, front her, board her, woo her, assail her.
Sir And. By my troth, I would not undertake her in this company. Is that the meaning of accost!
Mar. Fare you well, gentlemen.
Sir To. An thou let part so, sir Andrew, would thou mightst never draw sword again.
Sir And. And you part so, mistress, I would I might never draw sword again. Fair lady, do you think you have fools in hand?
Mar. Sir, I have not you by the hand.
Sir And. Marry, but you shall have; and here's my hand.
Mar. Now, sir, thought is free: I pray you bring your hand to the buttery-bar, and let it drink.
Sir And. Wherefore, sweet heart? what's your metaphor?
Mar. It's dry, sir.
Sir And. Why, I think so; I am not such an ass, but I can keep my hand dry. But what's your jest?
Mar. A dry jest, sir.
Sir And. Are you full of them?
Mar. Ay, sir; I have them at my fingers' ends: marry, now I let go your hand, I ain barren. [Exit MARIA. Sir To. O knight, thou lack'st a cup of canary: When did I see thee so put down?
Sir And. Never in your life, I think; unless you see canary put me down: Methinks, sometimes I have no more wit than a Christian, or an ordinary man has: but I am a greater eater of beef, and, I believe, that does harm to my wit.
Sir To. No question.
Sir And. An I thought that, I'd forswear it. I'll ride home to morrow, sir Toby.
Sir To. Pourquoy, my dear knight?
Sir And. What is pourquoy? do or not do? I would I had bestowed that time in the tongues, that I have in fencing, dancing, and bear-baiting: 0, had I but followed the arts!
Sir To. Then hadst thou an excellent head of
Sir And. Why, would that have mended my hair? Sir To. Past question; for thou seest, it will not curl by nature.
Sir And. But it becomes me well enough, does't not?
Sir To. Excellent; it hangs like flax on a distaff; and I hope to see a housewife take thee between her legs, and spin it off.
Sir And. 'Faith, I'll home to-morrow, sir Toby: your niece will not be seen; or, if she be, it's four to one she'll none of me: the count, himself, here hard by, woos her.
Sir To. She'll none of the count; she'll not match above her degree, neither in estate, years, nor wit; I have heard her swear it. Tut, there's life in't, man.
Sir And. I'll stay a month longer. I am a fellow o' the strangest mind in the world; I delight in masques and revels sometimes altogether.
Sir To. Art thou good at these kick-shaws, knight?
Sir And. As any man in Illyria, whatsoever he be, under the degree of my betters; and yet I will not compare with an old man.
Sir To. What is thy excellence in a galliard, knight?
1 Keystril, a bastard hawk.