A Room in FORD'S House. |
|
Enter PAGE, FORD, MISTRESS PAGE, MISTRESS FORD, and SIR HUGH EVANS. |
Eva. 'Tis one of the pest discretions of a 'oman as ever I did look upon. |
Page. And did he send you both these letters at an instant? |
Mrs. Page. Within a quarter of an hour. |
Ford. Pardon me, wife. Henceforth do what thou wilt; |
I rather will suspect the sun with cold |
Than thee with wantonness: now doth thy honour stand, |
In him that was of late an heretic, |
As firm as faith. |
Page. 'Tis well, 'tis well; no more. |
Be not as extreme in submission |
As in offence; |
But let our plot go forward: let our wives |
Yet once again, to make us public sport, |
Appoint a meeting with this old fat fellow, |
Where we may take him and disgrace him for it. |
Ford. There is no better way than that they spoke of. |
Page. How? to send him word they'll meet him in the Park at midnight? Fie, fie! he'll never come. |
Eva. You say he has been thrown into the rivers, and has been grievously peaten as an old 'oman: methinks there should be terrors in him that he should not come; methinks his flesh is punished, he shall have no desires. |
Page. So think I too. |
Mrs. Ford. Devise but how you'll use him when he comes, |
And let us two devise to bring him thither. |
Mrs. Page. There is an old tale goes that Herne the hunter, |
Sometime a keeper here in Windsor forest, |
Doth all the winter-time, at still midnight, |
Walk round about an oak, with great ragg'd horns; |
And there he blasts the tree, and takes the cattle, |
And makes milch-kine yield blood, and shakes a chain |
In a most hideous and dreadful manner: |
You have heard of such a spirit, and well you know |
The superstitious idle-headed eld |
Receiv'd and did deliver to our age |
This tale of Herne the hunter for a truth. |
Page. Why, yet there want not many that do fear |
In deep of night to walk by this Herne's oak. |
But what of this? |
Mrs. Ford. Marry, this is our device; |
That Falstaff at that oak shall meet with us, |
Disguis'd like Herne with huge horns on his head. |
Page. Well, let it not be doubted but he'll come, |
And in this shape when you have brought him thither, |
What shall be done with him? what is your plot? |
Mrs. Page. That likewise have we thought upon, and thus: |
Nan Page my daughter, and my little son, |
And three or four more of their growth, we'll dress |
Like urchins, ouphs and fairies, green and white, |
With rounds of waxen tapers on their heads, |
And rattles in their hands. Upon a sudden, |
As Falstaff, she, and I, are newly met, |
Let them from forth a sawpit rush at once |
With some diffused song: upon their sight, |
We two in great amazedness will fly: |
Then let them all encircle him about, |
And, fairy-like, to-pinch the unclean knight; |
And ask him why, that hour of fairy revel, |
In their so sacred paths he dares to tread |
In shape profane. |
Mrs. Ford. And till he tell the truth, |
Let the supposed fairies pinch him sound |
And burn him with their tapers. |
Mrs. Page. The truth being known, |
We'll all present ourselves, dis-horn the spirit, |
And mock him home to Windsor. |
Ford. The children must |
Be practis'd well to this, or they'll ne'er do't. |
Eva. I will teach the children their behaviours; and I will be like a jack-an-apes also, to burn the knight with my taber. |
Ford. That will be excellent. I'll go buy them vizards. |
Mrs. Page. My Nan shall be the queen of all the fairies, |
Finely attired in a robe of white. |
Page. That silk will I go buy:—[Aside] and in that time |
Shall Master Slender steal my Nan away, |
And marry her at Eton. Go, send to Falstaff straight. |
Ford. Nay, I'll to him again in name of Brook; |
He'll tell me all his purpose. Sure, he'll come. |
Mrs. Page. Fear not you that. Go, get us properties, |
And tricking for our fairies. |
Eva. Let us about it: it is admirable pleasures and fery honest knaveries. [Exeunt PAGE, FORD, and EVANS. |
Mrs. Page. Go, Mistress Ford, |
Send Quickly to Sir John, to know his mind. [Exit MISTRESS FORD. |
I'll to the doctor: he hath my good will, |
And none but he, to marry with Nan Page. |
That Slender, though well landed, is an idiot; |
And him my husband best of all affects: |
The doctor is well money'd, and his friends |
Potent at court: he, none but he, shall have her, |
Though twenty thousand worthier come to crave her. [Exit. |
Design © 1995-2007 ZeFLIP.com All rights reserved.