ceiv'd from her another embaffy of meeting; 'twixt eight and nine is the hour, mafter Brook. Ford. 'Tis paft eight already, Sir.

Fal. Is it? I will then addrefs me to my appointment. Come to me at your convenient leifure, and you shall know how I fpeed; and the conclufion shall be crown'd with your enjoying her; adieu, you shall have her, master Brook; mafter Brook, you fhall cuckold Ford. [Exit.

Ford. Hum! ha! is this a vision? is this a dream? do I sleep? master Ford, awake; awake, master Ford; there's a hole made in your best coat, mafter Ford; this 'tis to be married; this 'tis to have linen and buck-baskets!--Well, I will proclaim myself what I am; I will now take the leacher; he is at my houfe; he cannot 'scape me; 'tis impoffible, he should; he cannot creep into a half-penny purse, nor into a pepperbox; but, left the devil that guides him fhould aid him, I will fearch impoffible places. Tho' what I am I cannot avoid, yet to be what I would not, fhall not make me tame: if I have horns to make one mad, let the proverb go with me, 'I'll be horn-mad. [Exit.

5 There is no image which our authour appears fo fond of as that of a cuckold's horns. Scarce ly a light character is introduced that does not endeavour to produce merriment by fome allufion to horned husbands. As he wrote

his plays for the ftage rather than the prefs, he perhaps reviewed them feldom, and did not obferve this repetition; or finding the jeft, however frequent, ftill fuccefsful, did not think correction neceffary.

ACT

ACT IV.

SCENE 16.

Page's House.

Enter Mrs. Page, Mrs. Quickly, and William.

Mrs. PAGE.

S he at Mr. Ford's already, think'st thou?

Quic. Sure, he is by this, or will be presently; but truly he is very courageous mad, about his throwing into the water. Mrs. Ford defires you to come fuddenly.

Mrs. Page. I'll be with her by and by; I'll but bring my young man here to school. Look, where his mafter comes; 'tis a playing-day, I fee.

Enter Evans.

How now, Sir Hugh, no school to-day?

Eva. No; mafter Slender is let the boys leave to play.

Quic. Bleffing on his heart!

Mrs. Page. Sir Hugh, my husband fays, my fon profits nothing in the world at his book; I pray you, afk him fome queftions in his Accidence.

Eva. Come hither, William-hold up your head,

come.

Mrs. Page. Come on, Sirrah, hold up your head.Answer your master, be not afraid.

Eva. William, how many numbers is in nouns?
Will. Two.

This is a very trifling scene, to the audience; but Shakespeare of no use to the plot, and I beft knew what would please. fhould think of no great delight

Quic. Truly, I thought there had been one number more, because they say, od's nouns.

Eva. Peace your tatlings. What is Fair, William? Will. Pulcher.

Quic. Poulcats? there are fairer things than poulcats, fure.

Eva. You are a very simplicity 'oman; I pray you, peace. What is Lapis, William?

Will. A ftone.

Eva. And what is a stone, William ?
Will. A pebble.

Eva. No, it is Lapis: I pray you, remember in your prain.

Will. Lapis.

Eva. That is a good William : what is he, Willliam, that does lend articles?

Will. Articles are borrow'd of the pronoun, and be thus declin'd, fingulariter, nominativo, hic, hæc, hoc. Eva. Nominativo, big, bag, bog; pray you, mark: genitivo, bujus: well, what is your accufative cafe? Will. Accufative, hinc.

Eva. I pray you, have your remembrance, child; accufative, bung, bang, bog.

Quic. Hang hog, is Latin for bacon, I warrant you. Eva. Leave your prabbles, 'oman. What is the focative cafe, William ?

Will. O, vocativo, O.

Eva. Remember, William, focative is caret.

Quic. And that's a good root.

Eva. 'Oman, forbear.

Mrs. Page. Peace.

Eva. What is your genitive cafe plural, William ? Will. Genitive cafe?

Eva. Ay.

Will. Genitive, borum, barum, borum. ·

Quic. 'Vengeance of Giney's cafe! fie on her! ne

ver name her, child, if she be a whore.

Eva. For fhame, 'oman.

Quic. You do ill to teach the child fuch words: he teaches him to hick and to hack, which they'll do fast enough of themselves; and to call horum; fie upon you!

Eva. 'Oman, art thou lunacies? haft thou no understanding for thy cafes, and the numbers of the genders? thou art as foolish chriftian creatures, as I would defire.

Mrs. Page. Pr'ythee, hold thy peace.

Eva. Shew me now, William, fome declenfions of your pronouns.

Will. Forfooth, I have forgot.

Eva. It is ki, ca, cod; if you forget your kies your kes, and your cods, you must be preeches: go your ways and play, go.

Mrs. Page. He is a better scholar, than I thought

he was.

Eva. He is a good sprag memory. Farewel, Mrs. Page.

Mrs. Page. Adieu, good Sir Hugh. Get you home, boy. Come, we ftay too long.

[Exeunt.

Fal.

M'

Changes to Ford's House.

Enter Falftaff and Mrs. Ford.

Iftrefs Ford, your forrow hath eaten upmy fufferance. I fee, you are obfequious in your love, and I profefs requital to a hair's breadth; not only, miftrefs Ford, in the fimple office of love, but in all the accouftrement, complement, and ceremony of it. But are you fure of your husband now?

Mrs. Ford. He's a birding, fweet Sir John.

Mrs. Page. (within.) What hoa, goffip Ford! what hoa!

Mrs.

Mrs. Ford. Step into the chamber, Sir John.

Enter Mrs. Page.

[Exit Falstaff

Mrs. Page. How now, fweet-heart, who's at home

befides yourself?

Mrs. Ford. Why, none but mine own people.
Mrs. Page, Indeed?

Mrs Ford. No, certainly

Speak louder. [Afide.

Mrs. Page. Truly, I am so glad you have no body here.

Mrs. Ford. Why?

Mrs. Page. Why, woman, your husband is in his old lunes again; he so takes on * yonder with my hufband, fo rails against all married mankind, fo curfes all Eve's daughters, of what complexion foever, and fo buffets himself on the forehead, crying peer-out †, peer-out! that any madness I ever yet beheld feem'd but tameness, civility, and patience, to this diftemper he is in now. I am glad the fat knight is not here. Mrs. Ford. Why, does he talk of him?

Mrs. Page. Of none but him; and swears, he was carry'd out, the last time he search'd for him, in a basket; protests to my husband he is now here; and hath drawn him and the reft of their company from their sport, to make another experiment of his fufpicion; but I am glad the knight is not here: now he fhall fee his own foolery.

Mrs. Ford. How near is he, mistress Page?

Mrs. Page. Hard by, at ftreet's end, he will be here anon.

Mrs. Ford. I am undone, the knight is here.

Mrs. Page. Why, then thou art utterly sham'd, and he's but a dead man. What a woman are you?-Away with him, away with him; better shame than murther

*To take on, which is now ufed for to grieve, seems to be used by our authour for to rage. Perhaps it was applied to any

paffion.

† Peer-out,] That is, appear horns. Shakespeare is at his old lanes.

Mrs.