he could not compass.
Mrs. Page [Aside to Mrs. Ford.] Heard you that?
Mrs. Ford. You use me well, Master Ford, do you?
Ford. Ay, I do so.
Mrs. Ford. Heaven make you better than your thoughts!
Ford. Amen!
Mrs. Page. You do yourself mighty wrong, Master Ford.
Ford. Ay, ay; I must bear it.
Evans. If there be any pody in the house, and in the chambers, and in the coffers, and in the presses, heaven forgive my sins at the day of judgment!
Caius. Be-gar, nor I too; there is no-bodies.
Page. Fie, fie, Master Ford, are you not asham’d? What spirit, what devil suggests this imagination? I would not ha’ your distemper in this kind for the wealth of Windsor Castle.
Ford. ’Tis my fault, Master Page. I suffer for it.
Evans. You suffer for a pad conscience. Your wife is as honest a omans as I will desires among five thousand, and five hundred too.
Caius. By gar, I see ’tis an honest woman.
Ford. Well, I promis’d you a dinner. Come, come, walk in the park. I pray you pardon me; I will hereafter make known to you why I have done this. Come, wife, come, Mistress Page, I pray you pardon me; pray heartly pardon me.
Page. Let’s go in, gentlemen, but (trust me) we’ll mock him. I do invite you to-morrow morning to my house to breakfast; after, we’ll a-birding together. I have a fine hawk for the bush. Shall it be so?
Ford. Any thing.
Evans. If there is one, I shall make two in the company.
Caius. If there be one or two, I shall make-a the turd.
Ford. Pray you go, Master Page.
[Exit with Page.]
Evans. I pray you now remembrance to-morrow on the lousy knave, mine host.
Caius. Dat is good, by gar; with all my heart!
Evans. A lousy knave, to have his gibes and his mockeries!
Exeunt.
¶
Scene IV
Enter Fenton, Anne Page.
Fent.
I see I cannot get thy father’s love,
Therefore no more turn me to him, sweet Nan.
Anne.
Alas, how then?
Fent.
Why, thou must be thyself.
He doth object I am too great of birth,
And that my state being gall’d with my expense,
I seek to heal it only by his wealth.
Besides these, other bars he lays before me,
My riots past, my wild societies,
And tells me ’tis a thing impossible
I should love thee but as a property.
Anne.
May be he tells you true.
[Fent.]
No, heaven so speed me in my time to come!
Albeit I will confess thy father’s wealth
Was the first motive that I woo’d thee, Anne;
Yet wooing thee, I found thee of more value
Than stamps in gold, or sums in sealed bags;
And ’tis the very riches of thyself
That now I aim at.
Anne.
Gentle Master Fenton,
Yet seek my father’s love, still seek it, sir.
If opportunity and humblest suit
Cannot attain it, why then hark you hither!
[They converse apart.]
[Enter] Shallow, Slender, [Mistress] Quickly.
Shal. Break their talk, Mistress Quickly, my kinsman shall speak for himself.
Slen. I’ll make a shaft or a bolt on’t. ’Slid, ’tis but venturing.
Shal. Be not dismay’d.
Slen. No, she shall not dismay me. I care not for that, but that I am afeard.
Quick. Hark ye, Master Slender would speak a word with you.
Anne.
I come to him.
[Aside.]
This is my father’s choice.
O, what a world of vild ill-favor’d faults
Looks handsome in three hundred pounds a year!
Quick. And how does good Master Fenton? Pray you a word with you.
Shal. She’s coming; to her, coz. O boy, thou hadst a father!
Slen. I had a father, Mistress Anne, my uncle can tell you good jests of him. Pray you, uncle, tell Mistress Anne the jest how my father stole two geese out of a pen, good uncle.
Shal. Mistress Anne, my cousin loves you.
Slen. Ay, that I do—as well as I love any woman in Gloucestershire.
Shal.
