MRS. FORD
[Aside to MRS. PAGE] Trust me, I thought on her: she’ll fit it.
[Enter MISTRESS QUICKLY.]
MRS. PAGE
You are come to see my daughter Anne?
QUICKLY
Ay, forsooth; and, I pray, how does good Mistress Anne?
MRS. PAGE
Go in with us and see; we’d have an hour’s talk with you.
[Exeunt MISTRESS PAGE, MISTRESS FORD, and MISTRESS QUICKLY.]
PAGE
How now, Master Ford!
FORD
You heard what this knave told me, did you not?
PAGE
Yes; and you heard what the other told me?
FORD
Do you think there is truth in them?
PAGE
Hang ‘em, slaves! I do not think the knight would offer it; but these that accuse him in his intent towards our wives are a yoke of his discarded men; very rogues, now they be out of service.
FORD
Were they his men?
PAGE
Marry, were they.
FORD
I like it never the better for that. Does he lie at the Garter?
PAGE
Ay, marry, does he. If he should intend this voyage toward my wife, I would turn her loose to him; and what he gets more of her than sharp words, let it lie on my head.
FORD
I do not misdoubt my wife; but I would be loath to turn them together. A man may be too confident. I would have nothing “lie on my head”: I cannot be thus satisfied.
PAGE
Look where my ranting host of the Garter comes. There is either liquor in his pate or money in his purse when he looks so merrily.
[Enter HOST and SHALLOW.]
How now, mine host!
HOST
How now, bully-rook! Thou’rt a gentleman. Cavaliero-justice, I say!
SHALLOW
I follow, mine host, I follow. Good even and twenty, good Master Page! Master Page, will you go with us? We have sport in hand.
HOST
Tell him, cavaliero-justice; tell him, bully-rook.
SHALLOW
Sir, there is a fray to be fought between Sir Hugh the Welsh priest and Caius the French doctor.
FORD
Good mine host o’ the Garter, a word with you.
HOST
What say’st thou, my bully-rook?
[They go aside.]
SHALLOW
[To PAGE] Will you go with us to behold it? My merry host hath had the measuring of their weapons; and, I think, hath appointed them contrary places; for, believe me, I hear the parson is no jester. Hark, I will tell you what our sport shall be.
[They converse apart.]
HOST
Hast thou no suit against my knight, my guest-cavaliero?
FORD
None, I protest: but I’ll give you a pottle of burnt sack to give me recourse to him, and tell him my name is Brook, only for a jest.
HOST
My hand, bully; thou shalt have egress and regress; said I well? and thy name shall be Brook. It is a merry knight. Will you go, mynheers?
SHALLOW
Have with you, mine host.
PAGE
I have heard the Frenchman hath good skill in his rapier.
SHALLOW
Tut, sir! I could have told you more. In these times you stand on distance, your passes, stoccadoes, and I know not what: ‘tis the heart, Master Page; ‘tis here, ‘tis here. I have seen the time with my long sword I would have made you four tall fellows skip like rats.
HOST
Here, boys, here, here! Shall we wag?
PAGE
Have with you. I had rather hear them scold than fight.
[Exeunt HOST, SHALLOW, and PAGE.]
FORD
Though Page be a secure fool, and stands so firmly on his wife’s frailty, yet I cannot put off my opinion so easily. She was in his company at Page’s house, and what they made there I know not. Well, I will look further into ‘t; and I have a disguise to sound Falstaff. If I find her honest, I lose not my labour; if she be otherwise, ‘tis labour well bestowed.
[Exit.]
SCENE II. A room in the Garter Inn
[Enter FALSTAFF and PISTOL.]
FALSTAFF
I will not lend thee a penny.
PISTOL
Why then, the world’s mine oyster,
Which I with sword will open.
I will retort the sum in equipage.
FALSTAFF
Not a penny. I have been content, sir, you should lay my countenance to pawn; I have grated upon my good friends for three reprieves for you and your coach-fellow, Nym; or else you had looked through the grate, like a geminy of baboons. I am damned in hell for swearing to gentlemen my friends you were good soldiers and tall fellows; and when Mistress Bridget lost the handle of her fan, I took ‘t upon mine honour thou hadst it not.
PISTOL
Didst not thou share? Hadst thou not fifteen pence?
FALSTAFF
Reason, you rogue, reason. Thinkest thou I’ll endanger my soul gratis? At a word, hang no more about me, I am no gibbet for you: go: a short knife and a throng! — to your manor of Picht-hatch! go. You’ll not bear a letter for me, you rogue! — you stand upon your honour! — Why, thou unconfinable baseness, it is as much as I can do to keep the terms of my honour precise. I, I, I myself sometimes, leaving the fear of God on the left hand, and hiding mine honour in my necessity, am fain to shuffle, to hedge, and to lurch; and yet you, rogue, will ensconce your rags, your cat-a-mountain looks, your red-lattice phrases, and your bold-beating oaths, under the shelter of your honour! You will not do it, you!
PISTOL
I do relent; what wouldst thou more of man?
[Enter ROBIN.]
ROBIN
Sir, here’s a woman would speak with you.
FALSTAFF
Let her approach.
[Enter MISTRESS QUICKLY.]
QUICKLY
Give your worship good morrow.
FALSTAFF
Good morrow, good wife.
QUICKLY
Not so, an’t please your worship.
FALSTAFF
Good maid, then.
QUICKLY
I’ll be sworn;
As my mother was, the first hour I