for in the shape of man, Master [Brook], I fear not Goliah with a weaver’s beam, because I know also life is a shuttle. I am in haste, go along with me, I’ll tell you all, Master [Brook]. Since I pluck’d geese, play’d truant, and whipt top, I knew not what ’twas to be beaten till lately. Follow me, I’ll tell you strange things of this knave Ford, on whom to-night I will be reveng’d, and I will deliver his wife into your hand. Follow. Strange things in hand, Master [Brook]! Follow.
Exeunt.
¶
Scene II
Enter Page, Shallow, Slender.
Page. Come, come; we’ll couch i’ th’ castle-ditch till we see the light of our fairies. Remember, son Slender, my [daughter].
Slen. Ay, forsooth, I have spoke with her, and we have a nay-word how to know one another. I come to her in white, and cry “mum”; she cries “budget”; and by that we know one another.
Shal. That’s good too; but what needs either your ‘mum’ or her ‘budget’? The white will decipher her well enough. It hath strook ten a’ clock.
Page. The night is dark, light and spirits will become it well. Heaven prosper our sport! No man means evil but the devil, and we shall know him by his horns. Let’s away; follow me.
Exeunt.
¶
Scene III
Enter Mistress Page, Mistress Ford, Caius.
Mrs. Page. Master Doctor, my daughter is in green. When you see your time, take her by the hand, away with her to the deanery, and dispatch it quickly. Go before into the park; we two must go together.
Caius. I know vat I have to do. Adieu.
Mrs. Page. Fare you well, sir. [Exit Caius.] My husband will not rejoice so much at the abuse of Falstaff as he will chafe at the doctor’s marrying my daughter. But ’tis no matter; better a little chiding than a great deal of heart-break.
Mrs. Ford. Where is Nan now, and her troop of fairies, and the Welsh devil [Hugh]?
Mrs. Page. They are all couch’d in a pit hard by Herne’s oak, with obscur’d lights; which, at the very instant of Falstaff’s and our meeting, they will at once display to the night.
Mrs. Ford. That cannot choose but amaze him.
Mrs. Page. If he be not amaz’d, he will be mock’d; if he be amaz’d, he will every way be mock’d.
Mrs. Ford.
We’ll betray him finely.
Mrs. Page.
Against such lewdsters, and their lechery,
Those that betray them do no treachery.
Mrs. Ford. The hour draws on. To the oak, to the oak!
Exeunt.
¶
Scene IV
Enter Evans [like a satyr] and [others as] fairies.
Evans. Trib, trib, fairies; come, and remember your parts. Be pold, I pray you. Follow me into the pit, and when I give the watch-ords, do as I pid you. Come, come, trib, trib.
Exeunt.
¶
Scene V
Enter Falstaff [with a buck’s head upon him].
Fal. The Windsor bell hath strook twelve; the minute draws on. Now the hot-bloodied gods assist me! Remember, Jove, thou wast a bull for thy Europa, love set on thy horns. O powerful love, that in some respects makes a beast a man; in some other, a man a beast. You were also, Jupiter, a swan for the love of Leda. O omnipotent love, how near the god drew to the complexion of a goose! A fault done first in the form of a beast (O Jove, a beastly fault!) and then another fault in the semblance of a fowl—think on’t, Jove, a foul fault! When gods have hot backs, what shall poor men do? For me, I am here a Windsor stag, and the fattest, I think, i’ th’ forest. Send me a cool rut-time, Jove, or who can blame me to piss my tallow? Who comes here? My doe?
[Enter] Mistress Page, Mistress Ford.
Mrs. Ford. Sir John? art thou there, my deer? my male deer?
Fal. My doe with the black scut? Let the sky rain potatoes; let it thunder to the tune of ‘Green-sleeves,’ hail kissing-comfits, and snow eringoes; let there come a tempest of provocation, I will shelter me here.
[Embracing her.]
Mrs. Ford. Mistress Page is come with me, sweet heart.
Fal. Divide me like a brib’d-buck, each a haunch. I will keep my sides to myself, my shoulders for the fellow of this walk—and my horns I bequeath your husbands. Am I a woodman, ha? Speak I like Herne the hunter? Why, now is Cupid a child of conscience, he makes restitution. As I am a true spirit, welcome!
[There is a noise of horns.]
Mrs. Page. Alas, what noise?
Mrs. Ford. Heaven forgive our sins!
Fal. What should this be?
Mrs. Ford, Mrs. Page. Away, away!
[The two women run away.]
Fal. I think the devil will not have me damn’d, lest the oil that’s in me should set hell on fire; he would never else cross me thus.
Enter Evans [like a satyr], Anne Page [and Boys dressed like fairies], Pistol [as Hobgoblin, Mistress]
Quickly [like the Queen of Fairies; they sing a song about him and afterward speak].
Quick.
Fairies, black, grey, green, and white,
You moonshine revellers, and shades of night,
You orphan heirs of fixed destiny,
Attend your office and your quality.
Crier Hobgoblin, make the fairy Oyes.
Pist.
Elves, list your names; silence, you aery toys!
Cricket,
