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The Merry Wives of Windsor
  

READ STUDY GUIDE: Act I, Scenes iii-iv

Act I, Scene iii:
A room in the Garter Inn.
 
[Enter FALSTAFF, HOST, BARDOLPH, NYM, PISTOL, and ROBIN.]
FALSTAFF:
Mine host of the Garter!
HOST:
What says my bully rook? Speak scholarly and wisely.
FALSTAFF:
Truly, mine host, I must turn away some of my followers.
HOST:
Discard, bully Hercules; cashier; let them wag; trot, trot.
FALSTAFF:
I sit at ten pounds a week.
HOST:
Thou'rt an emperor, Caesar, Keiser, and Pheazar. I
will entertain Bardolph; he shall draw, he shall tap; said I
well, bully Hector?
FALSTAFF:
Do so, good mine host.
HOST:
I have spoke; let him follow.[To BARDOLPH]Let me
see thee froth and lime. I am at a word; follow.
[Exit.]
FALSTAFF:
Bardolph, follow him. A tapster is a good trade;
an old cloak makes a new jerkin; a withered serving-man a
fresh tapster. Go; adieu.
BARDOLPH:
It is a life that I have desired; I will thrive.
PISTOL:
O base Hungarian wight! Wilt thou the spigot wield?
[Exit BARDOLPH.]
NYM:
He was gotten in drink. Is not the humour conceited?
FALSTAFF:
I am glad I am so acquit of this tinder-box: his
thefts were too open; his filching was like an unskilful
singer—he kept not time.
NYM:
The good humour is to steal at a minim's rest.
PISTOL:
'Convey' the wise it call. 'Steal!' foh! A fico for the
phrase!
FALSTAFF:
Well, sirs, I am almost out at heels.
PISTOL:
Why, then, let kibes ensue.
FALSTAFF:
There is no remedy; I must cony-catch; I must shift.
PISTOL:
Young ravens must have food.
FALSTAFF:
Which of you know Ford of this town?
PISTOL:
I ken the wight; he is of substance good.
FALSTAFF:
My honest lads, I will tell you what I am about.
PISTOL:
Two yards, and more.
FALSTAFF:
No quips now, Pistol. Indeed, I am in the waist
two yards about; but I am now about no waste; I am about
thrift. Briefly, I do mean to make love to Ford's wife; I
spy entertainment in her; she discourses, she carves, she
gives the leer of invitation; I can construe the action of her
familiar style; and the hardest voice of her behaviour, to be
Englished rightly, is 'I am Sir John Falstaff's.'
PISTOL:
He hath studied her well, and translated her will out
of honesty into English.
NYM:
The anchor is deep; will that humour pass?
FALSTAFF:
Now, the report goes she has all the rule of her
husband's purse; he hath a legion of angels.
PISTOL:
As many devils entertain; and 'To her, boy,' say I.
NYM:
The humour rises; it is good; humour me the angels.
FALSTAFF:
I have writ me here a letter to her; and here
another to Page's wife, who even now gave me good eyes
too, examined my parts with most judicious oeillades;
sometimes the beam of her view gilded my foot, sometimes my
portly belly.
PISTOL:
Then did the sun on dunghill shine.
NYM:
I thank thee for that humour.
FALSTAFF:
O! she did so course o'er my exteriors with such
a greedy intention that the appetite of her eye did seem to
scorch me up like a burning-glass. Here's another letter to
her: she bears the purse too; she is a region in Guiana, all
gold and bounty. I will be 'cheator to them both, and they
shall be exchequers to me; they shall be my East and West
Indies, and I will trade to them both. Go, bear thou this
letter to Mistress Page; and thou this to Mistress Ford. We
will thrive, lads, we will thrive.
PISTOL:
Shall I Sir Pandarus of Troy become,
And by my side wear steel? then Lucifer take all!
NYM:
I will run no base humour. Here, take the
humour-letter; I will keep the haviour of reputation.
FALSTAFF:
[To ROBIN] Hold, sirrah; bear you these letters tightly;
Sail like my pinnace to these golden shores.
Rogues, hence, avaunt! vanish like hailstones, go;
Trudge, plod away o' hoof; seek shelter, pack!
Falstaff will learn the humour of this age;
French thrift, you rogues; myself, and skirted page.
[Exeunt FALSTAFF and ROBIN.]
PISTOL:
Let vultures gripe thy guts! for gourd and fullam holds,
And high and low beguile the rich and poor;
Tester I'll have in pouch when thou shalt lack,
Base Phrygian Turk!
NYM:
I have operations in my head which be humours of revenge.
PISTOL:
Wilt thou revenge?
NYM:
By welkin and her star!
PISTOL:
With wit or steel?
NYM:
With both the humours, I:
I will discuss the humour of this love to Page.
PISTOL:
And I to Ford shall eke unfold
How Falstaff, varlet vile,
His dove will prove, his gold will hold,
And his soft couch defile.
NYM:
My humour shall not cool: I will incense Page to deal
with poison; I will possess him with yellowness, for the
revolt of mine is dangerous: that is my true humour.
PISTOL:
Thou art the Mars of malcontents; I second thee;
troop on.
[Exeunt.]
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