Act III, Scene i: A field near Frogmore.
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| | 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? | |
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| | SIMPLE: | |
| | Marry, sir, the pittie-ward, the park-ward, every | |
| | way; old Windsor way, and every way but the town way. | |
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| | EVANS: | |
| | I most fehemently desire you you will also look that | |
| | way. | |
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| | 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! | |
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[Sings]
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| 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— | |
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| | Mercy on me! I have a great dispositions to cry. | |
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[Sings.]
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| Melodious birds sing madrigals,— | |
| Whenas I sat in Pabylon,— | |
| And a thousand vagram posies. | |
| To shallow,— | |
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| | SIMPLE: | |
| | Yonder he is, coming this way, Sir Hugh. | |
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[Sings]
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| To shallow rivers, to whose falls— | |
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| | Heaven prosper the right!—What weapons is he? | |
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| | SIMPLE: | |
| | No weapons, sir. There comes my master, Master | |
| | Shallow, and another gentleman, from Frogmore, over the | |
| | stile, this way. | |
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| | EVANS: | |
| | Pray you give me my gown; or else keep it in your | |
| | arms.[Reads in a book.] | |
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[Enter PAGE, SHALLOW, and SLENDER.]
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| | 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. | |
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| | PAGE: | |
| | Save you, good Sir Hugh! | |
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| | EVANS: | |
| | Pless you from his mercy sake, all of you! | |
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| | SHALLOW: | |
| | What, the sword and the word! Do you study | |
| | them both, Master Parson? | |
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| | PAGE: | |
| | And youthful still, in your doublet and hose, this raw | |
| | rheumatic day! | |
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| | EVANS: | |
| | There is reasons and causes for it. | |
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| | PAGE: | |
| | We are come to you to do a good office, Master | |
| | Parson. | |
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| | EVANS: | |
| | Fery well; what is it? | |
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| | 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. | |
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| | 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. | |
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| | PAGE: | |
| | I think you know him: Master Doctor Caius, the | |
| | renowned French physician. | |
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| | EVANS: | |
| | Got's will and his passion of my heart! I had as lief | |
| | you would tell me of a mess of porridge. | |
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| | 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. | |
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| | PAGE: | |
| | I warrant you, he's the man should fight with him. | |
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| | SLENDER: | |
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[Aside]
O, sweet Anne Page!
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| | SHALLOW: | |
| | It appears so, by his weapons. Keep them asunder; | |
| | here comes Doctor Caius. | |
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[Enter HOST, CAIUS, and RUGBY.]
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| | PAGE: | |
| | Nay, good Master Parson, keep in your weapon. | |
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| | SHALLOW: | |
| | So do you, good Master Doctor. | |
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| | HOST: | |
| | Disarm them, and let them question; let them keep | |
| | their limbs whole and hack our English. | |
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| | CAIUS: | |
| | I pray you, let-a me speak a word with your ear: | |
| | verefore will you not meet-a me? | |
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| | EVANS: | |
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[Aside to CAIUS.]
Pray you use your patience; in
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| | good time. | |
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| | CAIUS: | |
| | By gar, you are de coward, de Jack dog, John ape. | |
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| | EVANS: | |
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[Aside to CAIUS.]
Pray you, let us not be
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| | laughing-stogs to other men's humours; I desire you in | |
| | friendship, and I will one way or other make you amends. | |
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[Aloud.]
I will knog your urinals about your knave's cogscomb
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| | for missing your meetings and appointments. | |
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| | 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? | |
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| | 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. | |
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| | HOST: | |
| | Peace, I say, Gallia and Gaullia; French and Welsh, | |
| | soul-curer and body-curer! | |
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| | CAIUS: | |
| | Ay, dat is very good; excellent! | |
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| | 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. | |
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| | SHALLOW: | |
| | Trust me, a mad host!—Follow, gentlemen, follow. | |
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| | SLENDER: | |
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[Aside]
O, sweet Anne Page!
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[Exeunt SHALLOW, SLENDER, PAGE, and HOST.]
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| | CAIUS: | |
| | Ha, do I perceive dat? Have you make-a de sot of us, | |
| | ha, ha? | |
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| | 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. | |
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| | CAIUS: | |
| | By gar, with all my heart. He promise to bring me | |
| | where is Anne Page; by gar, he deceive me too. | |
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| | EVANS: | |
| | Well, I will smite his noddles. Pray you follow. | |
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