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The Merry Wives of Windsor
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READ STUDY GUIDE: Act III, Scenes i-iii

 
Act III, Scene i:
A field near Frogmore.
 
[Enter SIR HUGH EVANS and SIMPLE.]
EVANS:
I pray you now, good Master Slender's serving-man,
and friend Simple by your name, which way have you
looked for Master Caius, that calls himself doctor of
physic?
SIMPLE:
Marry, sir, the pittie-ward, the park-ward, every
way; old Windsor way, and every way but the town way.
EVANS:
I most fehemently desire you you will also look that
way.
SIMPLE:
I will, Sir.
[Exit.]
EVANS:
Pless my soul, how full of chollors I am, and trempling
of mind! I shall be glad if he have deceived me. How
melancholies I am! I will knog his urinals about his knave's
costard when I have goot opportunities for the 'ork: pless
my soul!
[Sings]
To shallow rivers, to whose falls
Melodious birds sings madrigals;
There will we make our peds of roses,
And a thousand fragrant posies.
To shallow—
Mercy on me! I have a great dispositions to cry.
[Sings.]
Melodious birds sing madrigals,—
Whenas I sat in Pabylon,—
And a thousand vagram posies.
To shallow,—
[Re-enter SIMPLE.]
SIMPLE:
Yonder he is, coming this way, Sir Hugh.
EVANS:
He's welcome.
[Sings]
To shallow rivers, to whose falls—
Heaven prosper the right!—What weapons is he?
SIMPLE:
No weapons, sir. There comes my master, Master
Shallow, and another gentleman, from Frogmore, over the
stile, this way.
EVANS:
Pray you give me my gown; or else keep it in your
arms.[Reads in a book.]
[Enter PAGE, SHALLOW, and SLENDER.]
SHALLOW:
How now, Master Parson! Good morrow, good
Sir Hugh. Keep a gamester from the dice, and a good student
from his book, and it is wonderful.
SLENDER:
[Aside] Ah, sweet Anne Page!
PAGE:
Save you, good Sir Hugh!
EVANS:
Pless you from his mercy sake, all of you!
SHALLOW:
What, the sword and the word! Do you study
them both, Master Parson?
PAGE:
And youthful still, in your doublet and hose, this raw
rheumatic day!
EVANS:
There is reasons and causes for it.
PAGE:
We are come to you to do a good office, Master
Parson.
EVANS:
Fery well; what is it?
PAGE:
Yonder is a most reverend gentleman, who, belike having
received wrong by some person, is at most odds with
his own gravity and patience that ever you saw.
SHALLOW:
I have lived fourscore years and upward; I never
heard a man of his place, gravity, and learning, so wide of
his own respect.
EVANS:
What is he?
PAGE:
I think you know him: Master Doctor Caius, the
renowned French physician.
EVANS:
Got's will and his passion of my heart! I had as lief
you would tell me of a mess of porridge.
PAGE:
Why?
EVANS:
He has no more knowledge in Hibbocrates and
Galen,—and he is a knave besides; cowardly knave as you
would desires to be acquainted withal.
PAGE:
I warrant you, he's the man should fight with him.
SLENDER:
[Aside] O, sweet Anne Page!
SHALLOW:
It appears so, by his weapons. Keep them asunder;
here comes Doctor Caius.
[Enter HOST, CAIUS, and RUGBY.]
PAGE:
Nay, good Master Parson, keep in your weapon.
SHALLOW:
So do you, good Master Doctor.
HOST:
Disarm them, and let them question; let them keep
their limbs whole and hack our English.
CAIUS:
I pray you, let-a me speak a word with your ear:
verefore will you not meet-a me?
EVANS:
[Aside to CAIUS.] Pray you use your patience; in
good time.
CAIUS:
By gar, you are de coward, de Jack dog, John ape.
EVANS:
[Aside to CAIUS.] Pray you, let us not be
laughing-stogs to other men's humours; I desire you in
friendship, and I will one way or other make you amends.
[Aloud.] I will knog your urinals about your knave's cogscomb
for missing your meetings and appointments.
CAIUS:
Diable!—Jack Rugby,—mine Host de Jarretiere,—have I
not stay for him to kill him? Have I not, at de place I did
appoint?
EVANS:
As I am a Christians soul, now, look you, this is the
place appointed. I'll be judgment by mine host of the
Garter.
HOST:
Peace, I say, Gallia and Gaullia; French and Welsh,
soul-curer and body-curer!
CAIUS:
Ay, dat is very good; excellent!
HOST:
Peace, I say! Hear mine host of the Garter. Am I
politic? am I subtle? am I a Machiavel? Shall I lose my
doctor? No; he gives me the potions and the motions. Shall I
lose my parson, my priest, my Sir Hugh? No; he gives me
the proverbs and the no-verbs. Give me thy hand, terrestrial;
so;—give me thy hand, celestial; so. Boys of art, I have
deceived you both; I have directed you to wrong places;
your hearts are mighty, your skins are whole, and let burnt
sack be the issue. Come, lay their swords to pawn. Follow
me, lads of peace; follow, follow, follow.
SHALLOW:
Trust me, a mad host!—Follow, gentlemen, follow.
SLENDER:
[Aside] O, sweet Anne Page!
[Exeunt SHALLOW, SLENDER, PAGE, and HOST.]
CAIUS:
Ha, do I perceive dat? Have you make-a de sot of us,
ha, ha?
EVANS:
This is well; he has made us his vlouting-stog. I
desire you that we may be friends; and let us knog our prains
together to be revenge on this same scall, scurvy, cogging
companion, the host of the Garter.
CAIUS:
By gar, with all my heart. He promise to bring me
where is Anne Page; by gar, he deceive me too.
EVANS:
Well, I will smite his noddles. Pray you follow.
[Exeunt.]
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