Merry Wives of Windsor (version 2) — Act IV
MISTRESS PAGE.
Is he at Master Ford’s already, think’st thou?
MISTRESS QUICKLY.
Sure he is by this; or will be presently.
But truly he is very courageous mad about his throwing into the water.
Mistress Ford desires you to come suddenly.
MISTRESS PAGE.
I’ll be with her by and by.
I’ll but bring my young man here to school.
Look where his master comes; ’tis a playing day, I see.
Enter Sir Hugh Evans.
How now, Sir Hugh, no school today?
EVANS.
No, Master Slender is let the boys leave to play.
MISTRESS QUICKLY.
Blessing of his heart!
MISTRESS PAGE.
Sir Hugh, my husband says my son profits nothing in the world at his book.
I pray you ask him some questions in his accidence.
EVANS.
Come hither, William.
Hold up your head, come.
MISTRESS PAGE.
Come on, sirrah.
Hold up your head.
Answer your master, be not afraid.
EVANS.
William, how many numbers is in nouns?
WILLIAM.
Two.
MISTRESS QUICKLY.
Truly, I thought there had been one number more, because they say “’Od’s nouns.
” EVANS.
Peace your tattlings!
What is “fair,” William?
WILLIAM.
_Pulcher_.
MISTRESS QUICKLY.
Polecats?
There are fairer things than polecats, sure.
EVANS.
You are a very simplicity ’oman; I pray you, peace.
—What is _lapis_, William?
WILLIAM.
A stone.
EVANS.
And what is “a stone,” William?
WILLIAM.
A pebble.
EVANS.
No, it is _lapis_.
I pray you remember in your prain.
WILLIAM.
_Lapis_.
EVANS.
That is a good William.
What is he, William, that does lend articles?
WILLIAM.
Articles are borrowed of the pronoun, and be thus declined: _singulariter, nominativo, hic, haec, hoc_.
EVANS.
_Nominativo, hig, haeg, hog_, pray you, mark: _genitivo, huius_.
Well, what is your accusative case?
WILLIAM.
_Accusativo, hinc_.
EVANS.
I pray you, have your remembrance, child.
_Accusativo, hung, hang, hog_.
MISTRESS QUICKLY.
“Hang-hog” is Latin for bacon, I warrant you.
EVANS.
Leave your prabbles, ’oman.
—What is the focative case, William?
WILLIAM.
O—_vocativo_—O— EVANS.
Remember, William; focative is _caret_.
MISTRESS QUICKLY.
And that’s a good root.
EVANS.
’Oman, forbear.
MISTRESS PAGE.
Peace.
EVANS.
What is your genitive case plural, William?
WILLIAM.
Genitive case?
EVANS.
Ay.
WILLIAM.
Genitive: _horum, harum, horum_.
MISTRESS QUICKLY.
Vengeance of Jenny’s case, fie on her!
Never name her, child, if she be a whore.
EVANS.
For shame, ’oman.
MISTRESS QUICKLY.
You do ill to teach the child such words.
—He teaches him to hick and to hack, which they’ll do fast enough of themselves; and to call “whore ’m”!
—Fie upon you!
EVANS.
’Oman, art thou lunatics?
Hast thou no understandings for thy cases, and the numbers of the genders?
Thou art as foolish Christian creatures as I would desires.
MISTRESS PAGE.
[_To Quickly_.
] Prithee, hold thy peace.
EVANS.
Show me now, William, some declensions of your pronouns.
WILLIAM.
Forsooth, I have forgot.
EVANS.
It is _qui, quae, quod_.
If you forget your _quis_, your _quaes_, and your _quods_, you must be preeches.
Go your ways and play, go.
MISTRESS PAGE.
He is a better scholar than I thought he was.
EVANS.
He is a good sprag memory.
Farewell, Mistress Page.
MISTRESS PAGE.
Adieu, good Sir Hugh.
[_Exit Sir Hugh Evans.
_] Get you home, boy.
Come, we stay too long.
[_Exeunt.
_] SCENE II.
A room in Ford’s house Enter Falstaff and Mistress Ford.
FALSTAFF.
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, compliment, and ceremony of it.
But are you sure of your husband now?
MISTRESS FORD.
He’s a-birding, sweet Sir John.
MISTRESS PAGE.
[_Within_.
] What ho, gossip Ford, what ho!
MISTRESS FORD.
Step into the chamber, Sir John.
[_Exit Falstaff.
_] Enter Mistress Page.
MISTRESS PAGE.
How now, sweetheart, who’s at home besides yourself?
MISTRESS FORD.
Why, none but mine own people.
MISTRESS PAGE.
Indeed?
MISTRESS FORD.
No, certainly.
[_Aside to her_.
] Speak louder.
MISTRESS PAGE.
Truly, I am so glad you have nobody here.
MISTRESS FORD.
Why?
MISTRESS 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 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.
MISTRESS FORD.
Why, does he talk of him?
MISTRESS 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 knight is not here.
Now he shall see his own foolery.
MISTRESS FORD.
How near is he, Mistress Page?
MISTRESS PAGE.
Hard by, at street end.
He will be here anon.
MISTRESS FORD.
I am undone!
The knight is here.
MISTRESS PAGE.
Why, then, you are utterly shamed, and he’s but a dead man.
What a woman are you!
Away with him, away with him!
Better shame than murder.
MISTRESS FORD.
Which way should he go?
How should I bestow him?
Shall I put him into the basket again?
Enter Falstaff.
FALSTAFF.
No, I’ll come no more i’ the basket.
May I not go out ere he come?
MISTRESS 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?
FALSTAFF.
What shall I do?
I’ll creep up into the chimney.
MISTRESS FORD.
There they always use to discharge their birding-pieces.
MISTRESS PAGE.
Creep into the kiln-hole.
FALSTAFF.
Where is it?
MISTRESS FORD.
He will seek there, on my word.
Neither 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.
FALSTAFF.
I’ll go out then.
MISTRESS PAGE.
If you go out in your own semblance, you die, Sir John—unless you go out disguised.
MISTRESS FORD.
How might we disguise him?
MISTRESS 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 muffler, and a kerchief, and so escape.
FALSTAFF.
Good hearts, devise something.
Any extremity rather than a mischief.
MISTRESS FORD.
My maid’s aunt, the fat woman of Brentford, has a gown above.
MISTRESS PAGE.
On my word, it will serve him.
She’s as big as he is.
And there’s her thrummed hat, and her muffler too.
—Run up, Sir John.
MISTRESS FORD.
Go, go, sweet Sir John.
Mistress Page and I will look some linen for your head.
MISTRESS PAGE.
Quick, quick!
We’ll come dress you straight; put on the gown the while.
[_Exit Falstaff.
_] MISTRESS 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.
MISTRESS PAGE.
Heaven guide him to thy husband’s cudgel and the devil guide his cudgel afterwards!
MISTRESS FORD.
But is my husband coming?
MISTRESS PAGE.
Ay, in good sadness is he, and talks of the basket too, howsoever he hath had intelligence.
MISTRESS 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.
MISTRESS PAGE.
Nay, but he’ll be here presently.
Let’s go dress him like the witch of Brentford.
MISTRESS FORD.
I’ll first direct my men what they shall do with the basket.
Go up, I’ll bring linen for him straight.
[_Exit Mistress Ford.
_] MISTRESS PAGE.
Hang him, dishonest varlet!
We cannot misuse 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 jest and laugh;
’Tis old but true: “Still swine eats all the draff.
” [_Exit.
_] Enter Mistress Ford with John and Robert.
MISTRESS FORD.
Go, sirs, take the basket again on your shoulders.
Your master is hard at door; if he bid you set it down, obey him.
Quickly, dispatch.
[_Exit Mistress Ford.
_] JOHN.
Come, come, take it up.
ROBERT.
Pray heaven it be not full of knight again.
JOHN.
I hope not, I had lief as bear so much lead.
Enter Ford, Page, Shallow, Caius and Sir Hugh Evans.
FORD
Ay, but if it prove true, Master Page, have you any way then to unfool me again?
—Set down the basket, villain!
Somebody call my wife.
Youth in a basket!
O you panderly rascals!
There’s a knot, a gin, a pack, a conspiracy against me.
Now shall the devil be shamed.
—What, wife, I say!
Come, come forth!
Behold what honest clothes you send forth to bleaching!
PAGE.
Why, this passes, Master Ford!
You are not to go loose any longer; you must be pinioned.
EVANS.
Why, this is lunatics, this is mad as a mad dog.
SHALLOW.
Indeed, Master Ford, this is not well, indeed.
FORD.
So say I too, sir.
Enter Mistress Ford.
Come hither, Mistress Ford—Mistress Ford, the honest woman, the modest wife, the virtuous creature, that hath the jealous fool to her husband!
I suspect without cause, mistress, do I?
MISTRESS FORD.
Heaven be my witness you do, if you suspect me in any dishonesty.
FORD.
Well said, brazen-face, hold it out.
—Come forth, sirrah.
[_Pulls clothes out of the basket.
_] PAGE.
This passes.
MISTRESS FORD.
Are you not ashamed?
