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'Ask me no reason why I love you; for though Love use Reason for his physician, he admits him not for his counsellor. You are 5 not young, no more am I; go to, then, there's sympathy: you are merry, so am I; ha, ha! 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,--'tis not a soldier-like phrase; 10 but I say, love me. By me,
Thine own true knight, By day or night, Or any kind of light, With all his might 15 For thee to fight, JOHN FALSTAFF.'
What a Herod of Jewry is this! O wicked, wicked world!
One that is well-nigh worn to pieces with age to show himself a young gallant! What an unweighed behaviour hath this Flemish drunkard picked--with the devil's name!--out 20 of my conversation, that he dares in this manner a.s.say 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 25 on him? for revenged I will be, as sure as his guts are made of puddings.
_Enter MISTRESS FORD._
_Mrs Ford._ Mistress Page! trust me, I was going to your house.
_Mrs Page._ And, trust me, I was coming to you. You 30 look very ill.
_Mrs Ford._ Nay, I'll ne'er believe that; I have to show to the contrary.
_Mrs Page._ Faith, but you do, in my mind.
_Mrs Ford._ Well, I do, then; yet, I say, I could show 35 you to the contrary. O Mistress Page, give me some counsel!
_Mrs Page._ What's the matter, woman?
_Mrs Ford._ O woman, if it were not for one trifling respect, I could come to such honour! 40
_Mrs Page._ Hang the trifle, woman! take the honour.
What is it?--dispense with trifles;--what is it?
_Mrs Ford._ If I would but go to h.e.l.l for an eternal moment or so, I could be knighted.
_Mrs Page._ What? thou liest! Sir Alice Ford! These 45 knights will hack; and so thou shouldst not alter the article of thy gentry.
_Mrs Ford._ We burn daylight:--here, read, read; perceive how I might be knighted. I shall think the worse of fat men, as long as I have an eye to make difference of 50 men's liking: and yet he would not swear; praised women's modesty; and gave such orderly and well-behaved reproof to all uncomeliness, that I would have sworn his disposition would have gone to the truth of his words; but they do no more adhere and keep place together than the Hundredth 55 Psalm to the tune of 'Green Sleeves.' What tempest, I trow, threw this whale, with so many tuns of oil in his belly, ash.o.r.e at Windsor? How shall I be revenged on him? I think the best way were to entertain him with hope, till the wicked fire of l.u.s.t have melted him in his own 60 grease. Did you ever hear the like?
_Mrs Page._ Letter for letter, but that the name of Page and Ford differs! To thy great comfort in this mystery of ill opinions, here's the twin-brother of thy letter: but let thine inherit first; for, I protest, mine never shall. 65 I warrant he hath a thousand of these letters, writ with blank s.p.a.ce 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 70 Mount Pelion. Well, I will find you twenty lascivious turtles ere one chaste man.
_Mrs Ford._ Why, this is the very same; the very hand, the very words. What doth he think of us?
_Mrs Page._ Nay, I know not: it makes me almost 75 ready to wrangle with mine own honesty. I'll entertain myself like one that I am not acquainted withal; for, sure, unless he know some strain in me, that I know not myself, he would never have boarded me in this fury.
_Mrs Ford._ 'Boarding,' call you it? I'll be sure to keep 80 him above deck.
_Mrs Page._ 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 lead him on with a fine-baited delay, till he hath 85 p.a.w.ned his horses to mine host of the Garter.
_Mrs Ford._ Nay, I will consent to act any villany against him, that may not sully the chariness of our honesty.
O, that my husband saw this letter! it would give eternal food to his jealousy. 90
_Mrs Page._ Why, look where he comes; and my good man too: he's as far from jealousy as I am from giving him cause; and that, I hope, is an unmeasurable distance.
_Mrs Ford._ You are the happier woman. 95
_Mrs Page._ Let's consult together against this greasy knight. Come hither. [_They retire._
_Enter FORD, with PISTOL, and PAGE, with NYM._
_Ford._ Well, I hope it be not so.
_Pist._ Hope is a curtal dog in some affairs: Sir John affects thy wife. 100
_Ford._ Why, sir, my wife is not young.
_Pist._ He wooes both high and low, both rich and poor, Both young and old, one with another, Ford; He loves the gallimaufry: Ford, perpend.
_Ford._ Love my wife! 105
_Pist._ With liver burning hot. Prevent, or go thou, Like Sir Actaeon he, with Ringwood at thy heels: O, odious is the name!
_Ford._ What name, sir?
_Pist._ The horn, I say. Farewell. 110 Take heed; have open eye; for thieves do foot by night: Take heed, ere summer comes, or cuckoo-birds do sing.
Away, Sir Corporal Nym!-- Believe it, Page; he speaks sense. [_Exit._
_Ford._ [_Aside_] I will be patient; I will find out this. 115
_Nym._ [_To Page_] And this is true; I like not the humour of lying. He hath wronged me in some humours: I should have borne the humoured letter to her; but I have a sword, and it shall bite upon my necessity. He loves your wife; there's the short and the long. My name 120 is Corporal Nym; I speak, and I avouch; 'tis true: my name is Nym, and Falstaff loves your wife. Adieu. I love not the humour of bread and cheese [and there's the humour of it]. Adieu. [_Exit._
_Page._ 'The humour of it,' quoth 'a! here's a fellow 125 frights English out of his wits.
_Ford._ I will seek out Falstaff.
_Page._ I never heard such a drawling, affecting rogue.
_Ford._ If I do find it:--well.
_Page._ I will not believe such a Cataian, though the 130 priest o' the town commended him for a true man.
_Ford._ 'Twas a good sensible fellow:--well.
_Page._ How now, Meg!
[_Mrs Page and Mrs Ford come forward._
_Mrs Page._ Whither go you, George? Hark you.
_Mrs Ford._ How now, sweet Frank! why art thou melancholy? 135
_Ford._ I melancholy! I am not melancholy. Get you home, go.
_Mrs Ford._ Faith, thou hast some crotchets in thy head. Now, will you go, Mistress Page? 140