Act IV, Scene ii:
A room in FORD'S house.

[Enter FALSTAFF and MISTRESS FORD.]

FALSTAFF:

Mistress Ford, your sorrow hath eaten up my

sufferance. I see you are obsequious in your love, and I

profess requital to a hair's breadth; not only, Mistress Ford, in

the simple office of love, but in all the accoutrement,

complement, and ceremony of it. But are you sure of your

husband now?

MRS:

He's a-birding, sweet Sir John.

MRS:

[Within.] What ho! gossip Ford, what ho!

MRS:

Step into the chamber, Sir John.

[Exit FALSTAFF.]

[Enter MISTRESS PAGE.]

MRS:

How now, sweetheart! who's at home besides yourself?

MRS:

Why, none but mine own people.

MRS:

Indeed!

MRS:

No, certainly.—[Aside to her.]Speak louder.

MRS:

Truly, I am so glad you have nobody here.

MRS:

Why?

MRS:

Why, woman, your husband is in his old lunes

again. He so takes on yonder with my husband; so rails

against all married mankind; so curses all Eve's daughters,

of what complexion soever; and so buffets himself on the

forehead, crying 'Peer out, peer out!' that any madness I

ever yet beheld seemed but tameness, civility, and patience,

to this his distemper he is in now. I am glad the fat knight

is not here.

MRS:

Why, does he talk of him?

MRS:

Of none but him; and swears he was carried out,

the last time he searched for him, in a basket; protests to

my husband he is now here; and 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 foolery.

MRS:

How near is he, Mistress Page?

MRS:

Hard by, at street end; he will be here anon.

MRS:

I am undone! the knight is here.

MRS:

Why, then, you are utterly shamed, and he's but

a dead man. What a woman are you! Away with him,

away with him! better shame than murder.

MRS:

Which way should he go? How should I bestow

him? Shall I put him into the basket again?

[Re-enter FALSTAFF.}

FALSTAFF:

No, I'll come no more i' the basket. May I not go

out ere he come?

MRS:

Alas! three of Master Ford's brothers watch the

door with pistols, that none shall issue out; otherwise you

might slip away ere he came. But what make you here?

FALSTAFF:

What shall I do? I'll creep up into the chimney.

MRS:

There they always use to discharge their birding-pieces.

MRS:

Creep into the kiln-hole.

FALSTAFF:

Where is it?

MRS:

He will seek there, on my word. Neither press,

coffer, chest, trunk, well, vault, but he hath an abstract for

the remembrance of such places, and goes to them by his

note: there is no hiding you in the house.

FALSTAFF:

I'll go out then.

MRS:

If you go out in your own semblance, you die,

Sir John. Unless you go out disguised,—

MRS:

How might we disguise him?

MRS:

Alas the day! I know not! There is no woman's

gown big enough for him; otherwise he might put on a

hat, a muffler, and a kerchief, and so escape.

FALSTAFF:

Good hearts, devise something: any extremity

rather than a mischief.

MRS:

My maid's aunt, the fat woman of Brainford, has

a gown above.

MRS:

On my word, it will serve him; she's as big as he

is; and there's her thrummed hat, and her muffler too. Run

up, Sir John.

MRS:

Go, go, sweet Sir John. Mistress Page and I will

look some linen for your head.

MRS:

Quick, quick! we'll come dress you straight; put

on the gown the while.

[Exit FALSTAFF.]

MRS:

I would my husband would meet him in this

shape; he cannot abide the old woman of Brainford; he

swears she's a witch, forbade her my house, and hath

threatened to beat her.

MRS:

Heaven guide him to thy husband's cudgel; and

the devil guide his cudgel afterwards!

MRS:

But is my husband coming?

MRS:

Ay, in good sadness is he; and talks of the basket

too, howsoever he hath had intelligence.

MRS:

We'll try that; for I'll appoint my men to carry

the basket again, to meet him at the door with it as they

did last time.

MRS:

Nay, but he'll be here presently; let's go dress

him like the witch of Brainford.

MRS:

I'll first direct my men what they shall do with

the basket. Go up; I'll bring linen for him straight.

[Exit.]

MRS:

Hang him, dishonest varlet! we cannot misuse him 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;

'Tis old but true: 'Still swine eats all the draff.'

[Exit.]

[Re-enter MISTRESS FORD, with two SERVANTS.]

MRS:

Go, sirs, take the basket again on your shoulders;

your master is hard at door; if he bid you set it down, obey

him. Quickly, dispatch.

[Exit.]

FIRST SERVANT:

Come, come, take it up.

SECOND SERVANT:

Pray heaven, it be not full of knight again.

FIRST SERVANT:

I hope not; I had lief as bear so much lead.

[Enter FORD, PAGE, SHALLOW, CAIUS, and SIR HUGH EVANS.]

FORD:

Ay, but if it prove true, Master Page, have you any

way then to unfool me again? Set down the basket, villain!

Somebody call my wife. Youth in a basket! O you panderly

rascals! there's a knot, a ging, a pack, a conspiracy

against me. Now shall the devil be shamed. What, wife, I

say! Come, come forth! behold what honest clothes you

send forth to bleaching!

PAGE:

Why, this passes, Master Ford! you are not to go loose

any longer; you must be pinioned.

EVANS:

Why, this is lunatics! this is mad as a mad dog.

SHALLOW:

Indeed, Master Ford, this is not well, indeed.

FORD:

So say I too, sir.—

[Re-enter MISTRESS FORD.]

Come hither, Mistress Ford, the honest woman, the modest

wife, the virtuous creature, that hath the jealous fool

to her husband! I suspect without cause, Mistress, do I?

MRS:

Heaven be my witness, you do, if you suspect

me in any dishonesty.

FORD:

Well said, brazen-face! hold it out. Come forth, sirrah.

[Pulling clothes out of the basket.]

PAGE:

This passes!

MRS:

Are you not ashamed? Let the clothes alone.

FORD:

I shall find you anon.

EVANS:

'Tis unreasonable. Will you take up your wife's

clothes? Come away.

FORD:

Empty the basket, I say!

MRS:

Why, man, why?

FORD:

Master Page, as I am a man, there was one conveyed

out of my house yesterday in this basket: why may not

he be there again? In my house I am sure he is; my

intelligence is true; my jealousy is reasonable.

Pluck me out all the linen.

MRS:

If you find a man there, he shall die a flea's death.

PAGE:

Here's no man.

SHALLOW:

By my fidelity, this is not well, Master Ford; this

wrongs you.

EVANS:

Master Ford, you must pray, and not follow the

imaginations of your own heart; this is jealousies.

FORD:

Well, he's not here I seek for.

PAGE:

No, nor nowhere else but in your brain.

[Servants carry away the basket.]

FORD:

Help to search my house this one time. If I find not

what I seek, show no colour for my extremity; let me for

ever be your table-sport; let them say of me 'As jealous as

Ford, that searched a hollow walnut for his wife's leman.'

Satisfy me once more; once more search with me.

MRS:

What, hoa, Mistress Page! Come you and the old

woman down; my husband will come into the chamber.

FORD:

Old woman? what old woman's that?

MRS:

Why, it is my maid's aunt of Brainford.

FORD:

A witch, a quean, an old cozening quean! Have I not

forbid her my house? She comes of errands, does she? We

are simple men; we do not know what's brought to pass

under the profession of fortune-telling. She works by

charms, by spells, by the figure, and such daubery as this

is, beyond our element. We know nothing. Come down, you

witch, you hag you; come down, I say!

MRS:

Nay, good sweet husband! Good gentlemen, let

him not strike the old woman.

[Re-enter FALSTAFF in woman's clothes, led by MISTRESS PAGE.]

MRS:

Come, Mother Prat; come, give me your hand.

FORD:

I'll prat her.—[Beats him.]Out of my door, you

witch, you rag, you baggage, you polecat, you ronyon!

Out, out! I'll conjure you, I'll fortune-tell you.

[Exit FALSTAFF.]

MRS:

Are you not ashamed? I think you have killed the

poor woman.

MRS:

Nay, he will do it. 'Tis a goodly credit for you.

FORD:

Hang her, witch!

EVANS:

By yea and no, I think the 'oman is a witch indeed; I

like not when a 'oman has a great peard; I spy a great peard

under her muffler.

FORD:

Will you follow, gentlemen? I beseech you follow;

see but the issue of my jealousy; if I cry out thus upon no

trail, never trust me when I open again.

PAGE:

Let's obey his humour a little further. Come, gentlemen.

[Exeunt FORD, PAGE, SHALLOW, CAIUS, and EVANS.]

MRS:

Trust me, he beat him most pitifully.

MRS:

Nay, by the mass, that he did not; he beat him

most unpitifully methought.

MRS:

I'll have the cudgel hallowed and hung o'er the

altar; it hath done meritorious service.

MRS:

What think you? May we, with the warrant of womanhood

and the witness of a good conscience, pursue him with

any further revenge?

MRS:

The spirit of wantonness is sure scared out of

him; if the devil have him not in fee-simple, with fine and

recovery, he will never, I think, in the way of waste,

attempt us again.

MRS:

Shall we tell our husbands how we have served him?

MRS:

Yes, by all means; if it be but to scrape the

figures out of your husband's brains. If they can find in their

hearts the poor unvirtuous fat knight shall be any further

afflicted, we two will still be the ministers.

MRS:

I'll warrant they'll have him publicly shamed;

and methinks there would be no period to the jest, should

he not be publicly shamed.

MRS:

Come, to the forge with it then; shape it. I

would not have things cool.

[Exeunt.]