MISTRESS PAGE

What, have scaped Loveletters in the holly-day-time of my beauty, and am I now a subject for them? let me see? Ask me no reason why I love you, for though Love use Rea son for his precisian, he admits him not for his Counseller: you are not young, no more am I: go to then, there's sympathy: you are merry, so am I: would, would, then there's more sympathy: you love sack, and so do I: would you desire better sympathy? Let it suffice thee (Mistress Page) at the least if the Love of Soldier can suffice, that I love thee: I will not say pity me, it's not a Soldierlike phrase; but I say, love me: By me, thine own true Knight, by day or night: Or any kind of light, with all his might, For thee to fight. John Falstaff. Ask me no reason why I love you, for though Love use Rea son for his precisian, he admits him not for his Counseller: you are not young, no more am I: go to then, there's sympathy: you are merry, so am I: would, would, then there's more sympathy: you love sack, and so do I: would you desire better sympathy? Let it suffice thee (Mistress Page) at the least if the Love of Soldier can suffice, that I love thee: I will not say pity me, it's not a Soldierlike phrase; but I say, love me: By me, thine own true Knight, by day or night: Or any kind of light, with all his might, For thee to fight. What a Herod of Jury is this? Oh wicked, wicked world: One that is wellnigh worn to pieces with age To show himself a young Gallant? What and unweighed Behaviour hath this Flemish drunkard picked (with The Devils name) out of my conversation, that he dares In this manner assay me? why, he hath not been thrice In my Company: what should I say to him? I was then Frugal of my mirth: (heaven forgive me:) why I'll Exhibit a Bill in the Parliament for the putting down of men: how shall I be revenged on him? for revenged I will be? as sure as his guts are made of puddings. Whither go you (George?) hark you. Nay keep your way (little Gallant) you were wont to be a follower, but now you are a Leader: whither had you rather led mine eyes, or eye your ma sters heals? Oh mistress Ford what have you done? You're shamed, you are overthrown, you are undone for ever. What a taking was he in, when your husband asked who was in the basket? Hang him dishonest rascal: I would all of the same strain, were in the same distress. I will lay a plot to try that, and we will yet have more tricks with Falstaff : his dissolute disease will scarce obey this medicine. Good M. Fenton come not to my child. I mean it not, I seek you a better hus band. Come, trouble not your self good M. Fenton, I will not be your friend, nor enemy: My daughter will I question how she loves you, And as I find her, so am I affected: Till then, farewell Sir, she must needs go in, Her father will be angry. Of none but him, and swears he was Can ried out the last time he searched for him, in a Basket: Protests to my husband he is now here, & 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 foe lerie. Why then you are utterly shamed, & he's but a dead man. What a woman are you? Away with him, away with him Better shame, then murder. Alas: three of M r . Fords brother's watch the door with Pistols, that none shall issue out: other wise you might slip away ere he came: But what make you here? On my word it will serve him: she's as big as he is: and there's her thrum'd hat, and her muffler too: run up Sir John. Quick, quick, we'll come dress you straight: put on the gown the while. Heaven guide him to thy husbands cud gell: and the devil guide his cudgel afterwards. I in good sadness is he, and talks of the basket too, howsoever he hath had intelligence. Nay, but he'll be here presently: let's go dress him Like the witch of Brainford. Hang him dishonest Varlet, We cannot misuse 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, It's old, but true, Still Swine eats all the draugh. Come mother Prat, Come give me your hand. Are you not ashamed? I think you have killed the poor woman. Trust me he beat him most pitifully. I'll have the cudgel hallowed, and hung over the Altar, it hath done meritorious service. Yes, by all means: if it be but to scrape the figures out of your husbands brains: if they can find in their hearts, the poor unvirtuous fat Knight shall be any further afflicted, we two will still be the mini sters. Come, to the Forge with it, then shape it: I would not have things cool. Within a quarter of and hour. My Nan shall be the Queen of all the Fairies, finely attired in a robe of white. Fear not you that: Go get us properties And tricking for our Fairies. M r Doctor, my daughter is in green, when you see your time, take her by the hand, away with her to the Deauerie, and dispatch it quickly: go before into the Park: we two must go together. Fare you well (Sir.) my husband will not rejoice so much at the abuse of Falstaff, as he will chafe at the Doctors marrying my daughter: But it's no mat ter; better a little chiding, then a great deal of heart break. They are all couched in a pit hard by Hernes Oak, with obscured Lights; which at the very instant of Falstaffes and our meeting, they will at once display to the night. If he be not amazed he will be mocked: If he be amazed, he will every way be mocked. Against such Lewdsters, and their lechery, Those that betray them, do no treachery. Why Sir John, do you think though we would have thrust virtue out of our hearts by the head and shoulders, and have given our selves without scru ple to hell, that ever the devil could have made you our delight? A puffed man? Doctors doubt that; If Anne Page be my daughter, she is (by this) Doctor Caius wife. Well, I will muse no further: M r Fenton, Heaven give you many, many merry days: Good husband, let us every one go home, And laugh this sport over by a Country fire, Sir John and all. And trust me, I was coming to you: you look very ill. There is and old tale goes, that Herne the Hunter (sometime a keeper here in Windsor Forest) Does all the winter time, at still midnight Walk round about and Oak, with great rag'd-hornes, And there he blasts the tree, and takes the cattle, And make milk-cows yield blood, and shakes a chain In a most hideous and dreadful manner. You have herd of such a Spirit, and well you know The superstitious idle-headed-Eld Received, and did deliver to our age This tale of Herne the Hunter, for a truth. In-faith but you do in my mind. What's the matter, woman? Letter for letter; but that the name of Page and Ford differs: to thy great comfort in this my stery of ill opinions, here's the twyn-brother of thy Let ter: but let thine inherit first, for I protest mine never shall: I warrant he hath a thousand of these Letters, writ with blancke-space for different names (sure more): and these are of the second edition: he will print them out of doubt: for he cares not what he puts into the press, when he would put us two: I had rather be a Giantess, and lie under Mount Pelion : Well; I will find you twen tie lascivious Turtles ere one chaste man. Nay I know not: it makes me almost rea die to wrangle with mine own honesty: I'll entertain my self Like one that I am not acquainted withal: for sure unless he know some strain in me, that I know not my self, he would never have boarded me in this fury. Why look where he comes; and my good man too: he's as far from jealousy, as I am from gi ving him cause, and that (I hope) is and unmeasurable di stance. Let's consult together against this greasy Knight: Come hither. Have with you: you'll come to dinner George? Look who comes yonder: she shall be our Messenger to this paltry Knight. You are come to see my daughter Anne ? Go in with us and see: we have and hours talk with you. Come, come, come. Herd you that? Adieu good Sir Hugh: Get you home boy, Come we stay too long. What hoa, gossip Ford : what hoa. How now (sweet heart) whose at home beside your self? Indeed? Why woman, your husband is in his old lines again: he so takes on yonder with my husband, so rails against all married mankind; so curses all Eves daughters, of what complexion soever; and so buffettes himself on the forehead: crying peere-out, peere-out, that any madness I ever yet beheld, seemed but tame ness, civility, and patience to this his distemper he is in now: I am glad the fat Knight is not here. Go Missed. Ford, Send quickly to Sir John, to know his mind: I'll to the Doctor, he hath my good will, And none but he to marry with Nan Page: That Slender (though well landed) is and Idiot: And he, my husband best of all affects: The Doctor is well moneyed, and his friends Potent at Court: he, none but he shall have her, Though twenty thousand worthier come to crave her. Hang the trifle (woman) take the honour: what is it? dispense with trifles: what is it? What thou liest? Sir Alice Ford ? these Knights will hack, and so thou shouldst not altar the ar ticle of thy Gentry. So will I: if he come under my hatches, I'll never to Sea again: Let's be revenged on him: let's appoint him a meeting: give him a show of comfort in his Suit, and led him on with a fine baited delay, till he hath pawned his horses to mine Host of the Garter. You do your self mighty wrong (M. Ford ) Prithee hold thy peace. Thou'rt a good boy: this secrecy of thine shall be a Tailor to thee, and shall make thee a new dou blet and hose. I'll go hide me. I warrant thee, if I do not act it, hiss me. Is he at M. Fords already thinkest thou? I'll be with her by and by: I'll but bring my youngman here to School: look where his Master comes; it's a playing day I see: how now Sir Hugh, no School to day? Sir Hugh, my husband says my son pro fits nothing in the world at his Book: I pray you ask him some questions in his Accidence. Come-on Sirrah; hold up your head; and swear your Master, be not afraid. Peace. Truly, I am so glad you have no body here. Hard by, at street end; he will be here anon. Is there not a double excellency in this? We will do it: let him be sent for to mor row eight a clock to have amends. Alas the day I know not, there is no woe men gown big enough for him: otherwise he might put on a hat, a muffler, and a kerchief, and so escape. Good George be not angry, I knew of your purpose: turned my daughter into white, and in deed she is now with the Doctor at the Deanery, and there married. That likewise have we thought upon: & thus: Nan Page (my daughter) and my little son, And three or four more of their growth, we'll dress Like Urchins, Ouphes, and Fairies, green and white, With rounds of waxed Tapers on their heads, And rattles in their hands; upon a sudden, As Falstaff, she, and I, are newly met, Let them from forth a saw-pit rush at once With some diffused song: Upon their sighed We two, in great amazedness will fly: Then let them all encircle him about, And Fairy-like to pinch the unclean Knight; And ask him why that hour of Fairy Revel, In their so sacred paths, he dares to tread In shape profane. The truth being known, We'll all present our selves; dis-horne the spirit, And mock him home to Windsor.