Merry Wives of Windsor by William Shakespeare
Act 4 - Scene 2
A room in FORD’S house.
Mistress Ford : He's a-birding, sweet Sir John.
Mistress Page : [Within] What, ho, gossip Ford! what, ho!
Mistress Ford : Step into the chamber, Sir John.
Mistress Page : How now, sweetheart! who's at home besides yourself?
Mistress Ford : Why, none but mine own people.
Mistress Page : Indeed!
Mistress Ford : No, certainly.
[p][Aside to her]
[p]Speak louder.
Mistress Page : Truly, I am so glad you have nobody here.
Mistress Ford : Why?
Mistress Page : Why, woman, your husband is in his old lunes again:
[p]he so takes on
yonder with my husband; so rails
[p]against all married mankind; so
curses all Eve's
[p]daughters, of what complexion soever; and so
buffets
[p]himself on the forehead, crying, 'Peer out, peer
[p]out!'
that any madness I ever yet beheld seemed but
[p]tameness, civility
and patience, to this his
[p]distemper he is in now: I am glad the fat
knight is not here.
Mistress Ford : Why, does he talk of him?
Mistress Page : Of none but him; and swears he was carried out, the
[p]last time he
searched for him, in a basket; protests
[p]to my husband he is now
here, and hath drawn him and
[p]the rest of their company from their
sport, to make
[p]another experiment of his suspicion: but I am
glad
[p]the knight is not here; now he shall see his own foolery.
Mistress Ford : How near is he, Mistress Page?
Mistress Page : Hard by; at street end; he will be here anon.
Mistress Ford : I am undone! The knight is here.
Mistress Page : Why then you are utterly shamed, and he's but a dead
[p]man. What a
woman are you!--Away with him, away
[p]with him! better shame than
murder.
Ford : Which way should be go? how should I bestow him?
[p]Shall I put him
into the basket again?
Mistress Page : Alas, three of Master Ford's brothers watch the door
[p]with pistols,
that none shall issue out; otherwise
[p]you might slip away ere he
came. But what make you here?
Mistress Ford : There they always use to discharge their
[p]birding-pieces. Creep into
the kiln-hole.
Mistress Ford : He will seek there, on my word. Neither press,
[p]coffer, chest,
trunk, well, vault, but he hath an
[p]abstract for the remembrance of
such places, and
[p]goes to them by his note: there is no hiding you
in the house.
Mistress Page : If you go out in your own semblance, you die, Sir
[p]John. Unless you
go out disguised--
Mistress Ford : How might we disguise him?
Mistress Page : Alas the day, I know not! There is no woman's gown
[p]big enough for
him otherwise he might put on a hat,
[p]a muffler and a kerchief, and
so escape.
Mistress Ford : My maid's aunt, the fat woman of Brentford, has a
[p]gown above.
Mistress Page : On my word, it will serve him; she's as big as he
[p]is: and there's
her thrummed hat and her muffler
[p]too. Run up, Sir John.
Mistress Ford : Go, go, sweet Sir John: Mistress Page and I will
[p]look some linen
for your head.
Mistress Page : Quick, quick! we'll come dress you straight: put
[p]on the gown the
while.
Mistress Ford : I would my husband would meet him in this shape: he
[p]cannot abide
the old woman of Brentford; he swears
[p]she's a witch; forbade her my
house and hath
[p]threatened to beat her.
Mistress Page : Heaven guide him to thy husband's cudgel, and the
[p]devil guide his
cudgel afterwards!
Mistress Ford : But is my husband coming?
Mistress Page : Ah, in good sadness, is he; and talks of the basket
[p]too, howsoever
he hath had intelligence.
Mistress Ford : We'll try that; for I'll appoint my men to carry the
[p]basket again,
to meet him at the door with it, as
[p]they did last time.
Mistress Page : Nay, but he'll be here presently: let's go dress him
[p]like the witch
of Brentford.
Mistress Ford : I'll first direct my men what they shall do with the
[p]basket. Go up;
I'll bring linen for him straight.
Mistress Page : Hang him, dishonest varlet! we cannot misuse him enough.
[p]We'll
leave a proof, by that which we will do,
[p]Wives may be merry, and
yet honest too:
[p]We do not act that often jest and laugh;
[p]'Tis
old, but true, Still swine eat all the draff.
Mistress Ford : Go, sirs, take the basket again on your shoulders:
[p]your master is
hard at door; if he bid you set it
[p]down, obey him: quickly,
dispatch.
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 as lief bear so much lead.
Ford : Ay, but if it prove true, Master Page, have you any
[p]way then to
unfool me again? Set down the basket,
[p]villain! Somebody call my
wife. Youth in a basket!
[p]O you panderly rascals! there's a knot, a
ging, a
[p]pack, a conspiracy against me: now shall the devil
[p]be
shamed. What, wife, I say! Come, come forth!
[p]Behold what honest
clothes you send forth to bleaching!
Page : Why, this passes, Master Ford; you are not to go
[p]loose any longer;
you must be pinioned.
Sir Hugh Evans : Why, this is lunatics! this is mad as a mad dog!
Ford : So say I too, sir.
[p][Re-enter MISTRESS FORD]
[p]Come hither,
Mistress Ford; Mistress Ford the honest
[p]woman, the modest wife, the
virtuous creature, that
[p]hath the jealous fool to her husband! I
suspect
[p]without cause, mistress, do I?
Mistress Ford : Heaven be my witness you do, if you suspect me in
[p]any dishonesty.
Ford : Well said, brazen-face! hold it out. Come forth, sirrah!
Page : This passes!
Mistress Ford : Are you not ashamed? let the clothes alone.
Ford : I shall find you anon.
Sir Hugh Evans : 'Tis unreasonable! Will you take up your wife's
[p]clothes? Come
away.
Ford : Empty the basket, I say!
Mistress Ford : Why, man, why?
Ford : Master Page, as I am a man, there was one conveyed
[p]out of my house
yesterday in this basket: why may
[p]not he be there again? In my
house I am sure he is:
[p]my intelligence is true; my jealousy is
reasonable.
[p]Pluck me out all the linen.
Mistress Ford : If you find a man there, he shall die a flea's death.
Page : Here's no man.
Sir Hugh Evans : Master Ford, you must pray, and not follow the
[p]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.
Ford : Help to search my house this one time. If I find
[p]not what I seek,
show no colour for my extremity; let
[p]me for ever be your
table-sport; let them say of
[p]me, 'As jealous as Ford, Chat searched
a hollow
[p]walnut for his wife's leman.' Satisfy me once
more;
[p]once more search with me.
Mistress Ford : What, ho, Mistress Page! come you and the old woman
[p]down; my
husband will come into the chamber.
Ford : Old woman! what old woman's that?
Mistress Ford : Nay, it is my maid's aunt of Brentford.
Ford : A witch, a quean, an old cozening quean! Have I not
[p]forbid her my
house? She comes of errands, does
[p]she? We are simple men; we do not
know what's
[p]brought to pass under the profession
of
[p]fortune-telling. She works by charms, by spells,
[p]by the
figure, and such daubery as this is, beyond
[p]our element we know
nothing. Come down, you witch,
[p]you hag, you; come down, I say!
Mistress Ford : Nay, good, sweet husband! Good gentlemen, let him
[p]not strike the
old woman.
Mistress Page : Come, Mother Prat; come, give me your hand.
Ford : I'll prat her.
[p][Beating him]
[p]Out of my door, you witch, you hag,
you baggage, you
[p]polecat, you runyon! out, out! I'll conjure
you,
[p]I'll fortune-tell you.
Mistress Page : Are you not ashamed? I think you have killed the
[p]poor woman.
Mistress Ford : Nay, he will do it. 'Tis a goodly credit for you.
Ford : Hang her, witch!
Sir Hugh Evans : By the yea and no, I think the 'oman is a witch
[p]indeed: I like not
when a 'oman has a great peard;
[p]I spy a great peard under his
muffler.
Ford : Will you follow, gentlemen? I beseech you, follow;
[p]see but the
issue of my jealousy: if I cry out thus
[p]upon no trail, never trust
me when I open again.
Page : Let's obey his humour a little further: come,
[p]gentlemen.
Mistress Page : Trust me, he beat him most pitifully.
Mistress Ford : Nay, by the mass, that he did not; he beat him most
[p]unpitifully,
methought.
Mistress Page : I'll have the cudgel hallowed and hung o'er the
[p]altar; it hath done
meritorious service.
Mistress Ford : What think you? may we, with the warrant of
[p]womanhood and the
witness of a good conscience,
[p]pursue him with any further revenge?
Mistress Page : The spirit of wantonness is, sure, scared out of
[p]him: if the devil
have him not in fee-simple, with
[p]fine and recovery, he will never,
I think, in the
[p]way of waste, attempt us again.
Mistress Ford : Shall we tell our husbands how we have served him?
Mistress Page : Yes, by all means; if it be but to scrape the
[p]figures out of your
husband's brains. If they can
[p]find in their hearts the poor
unvirtuous fat knight
[p]shall be any further afflicted, we two will
still be
[p]the ministers.
Mistress Ford : I'll warrant they'll have him publicly shamed: and
[p]methinks there
would be no period to the jest,
[p]should he not be publicly shamed.
Mistress Page : Come, to the forge with it then; shape it: I would
[p]not have things
cool.
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Next: Act 4 - Scene 3
