Merry Wives of Windsor by William Shakespeare
Act 3 - Scene 1
A field near Frogmore.
Sir Hugh Evans : I pray you now, good master Slender's serving-man,
[p]and friend
Simple by your name, which way have you
[p]looked for Master Caius,
that calls himself doctor of physic?
Simple : Marry, sir, the pittie-ward, the park-ward, every
[p]way; old Windsor
way, and every way but the town
[p]way.
Sir Hugh Evans : I most fehemently desire you you will also look that
[p]way.
Simple : I will, sir.
Sir Hugh Evans : 'Pless my soul, how full of chollors I am, and
[p]trempling of mind! I
shall be glad if he have
[p]deceived me. How melancholies I am! I will
knog
[p]his urinals about his knave's costard when I have
[p]good
opportunities for the ork. 'Pless my soul!
[p][Sings]
[p]To shallow
rivers, to whose falls
[p]Melodious birds sings madrigals;
[p]There
will we make our peds of roses,
[p]And a thousand fragrant
posies.
[p]To shallow--
[p]Mercy on me! I have a great dispositions to
cry.
[p][Sings]
[p]Melodious birds sing madrigals--
[p]When as I sat
in Pabylon--
[p]And a thousand vagram posies.
[p]To shallow &c.
Simple : Yonder he is coming, this way, Sir Hugh.
Sir Hugh Evans : He's welcome.
[p][Sings]
[p]To shallow rivers, to whose
falls-
[p]Heaven prosper the right! What weapons is he?
Simple : No weapons, sir. There comes my master, Master
[p]Shallow, and another
gentleman, from Frogmore, over
[p]the stile, this way.
Sir Hugh Evans : Pray you, give me my gown; or else keep it in your arms.
Slender : [Aside] Ah, sweet Anne Page!
Page : 'Save you, good Sir Hugh!
Sir Hugh Evans : 'Pless you from his mercy sake, all of you!
Page : And youthful still! in your doublet and hose this
[p]raw rheumatic
day!
Sir Hugh Evans : There is reasons and causes for it.
Page : We are come to you to do a good office, master parson.
Sir Hugh Evans : Fery well: what is it?
Page : Yonder is a most reverend gentleman, who, belike
[p]having received
wrong by some person, is at most
[p]odds with his own gravity and
patience that ever you
[p]saw.
Sir Hugh Evans : What is he?
Page : I think you know him; Master Doctor Caius, the
[p]renowned French
physician.
Sir Hugh Evans : Got's will, and his passion of my heart! I had as
[p]lief you would
tell me of a mess of porridge.
Page : Why?
Sir Hugh Evans : He has no more knowledge in Hibocrates and Galen,
[p]--and he is a
knave besides; a cowardly knave as you
[p]would desires to be
acquainted withal.
Page : I warrant you, he's the man should fight with him.
Page : Nay, good master parson, keep in your weapon.
Host : Disarm them, and let them question: let them keep
[p]their limbs whole
and hack our English.
Doctor Caius : I pray you, let-a me speak a word with your ear.
[p]Vherefore vill you
not meet-a me?
Sir Hugh Evans : [Aside to DOCTOR CAIUS] Pray you, use your patience:
[p]in good time.
Doctor Caius : By gar, you are de coward, de Jack dog, John ape.
Sir Hugh Evans : [Aside to DOCTOR CAIUS] Pray you let us not be
[p]laughing-stocks to
other men's humours; I desire you
[p]in friendship, and I will one way
or other make you amends.
[p][Aloud]
[p]I will knog your urinals about
your knave's cockscomb
[p]for missing your meetings and appointments.
Doctor Caius : Diable! Jack Rugby,--mine host de Jarteer,--have I
[p]not stay for him
to kill him? have I not, at de place
[p]I did appoint?
Sir Hugh Evans : As I am a Christians soul now, look you, this is the
[p]place
appointed: I'll be judgement by mine host of
[p]the Garter.
Host : Peace, I say, Gallia and Gaul, French and Welsh,
[p]soul-curer and
body-curer!
Doctor Caius : Ay, dat is very good; excellent.
Host : Peace, I say! hear mine host of the Garter. Am I
[p]politic? am I
subtle? am I a Machiavel? Shall I
[p]lose my doctor? no; he gives me
the potions and the
[p]motions. Shall I lose my parson, my priest, my
Sir
[p]Hugh? no; he gives me the proverbs and the
[p]no-verbs. Give me
thy hand, terrestrial; so. Give me
[p]thy hand, celestial; so. Boys of
art, I have
[p]deceived you both; I have directed you to
wrong
[p]places: your hearts are mighty, your skins are
[p]whole, and
let burnt sack be the issue. Come, lay
[p]their swords to pawn. Follow
me, lads of peace;
[p]follow, follow, follow.
Slender : [Aside] O sweet Anne Page!
Doctor Caius : Ha, do I perceive dat? have you make-a de sot of
[p]us, ha, ha?
Sir Hugh Evans : This is well; he has made us his vlouting-stog. I
[p]desire you that
we may be friends; and let us knog
[p]our prains together to be
revenge on this same
[p]scall, scurvy cogging companion, the host of
the Garter.
Doctor Caius : By gar, with all my heart. He promise to bring me
[p]where is Anne
Page; by gar, he deceive me too.
Sir Hugh Evans : Well, I will smite his noddles. Pray you, follow.
Previous: Act 2 - Scene 3
Next: Act 3 - Scene 2
