The Merry Wives of Windsor by William Shakespeare, 1564-1616

jealous wittolly knave hath masses of money; for the

which his wife seems to me well-favored. I will

use her as the key of the cuckoldly rogue’s coffer;

and there’s my harvest-home.

FORD I would you knew Ford, sir, that you might avoid him

if you saw him.

FALSTAFF Hang him, mechanical salt-butter rogue! I will

stare him out of his wits; I will awe him with my

cudgel: it shall hang like a meteor o’er the

cuckold’s horns. Master Brook, thou shalt know I

will predominate over the peasant, and thou shalt

lie with his wife. Come to me soon at night.

Ford’s a knave, and I will aggravate his style;

thou, Master Brook, shalt know him for knave and

cuckold. Come to me soon at night.

Exit

FORD What a damned Epicurean rascal is this! My heart is

ready to crack with impatience. Who says this is

improvident jealousy? my wife hath sent to him; the

hour is fixed; the match is made. Would any man

have thought this? See the hell of having a false

woman! My bed shall be abused, my coffers

ransacked, my reputation gnawn at; and I shall not

only receive this villanous wrong, but stand under

the adoption of abominable terms, and by him that

does me this wrong. Terms! names! Amaimon sounds

well; Lucifer, well; Barbason, well; yet they are

devils’ additions, the names of fiends: but

Cuckold! Wittol!–Cuckold! the devil himself hath

not such a name. Page is an ass, a secure ass: he

will trust his wife; he will not be jealous. I will

rather trust a Fleming with my butter, Parson Hugh

the Welshman with my cheese, an Irishman with my

aqua-vitae bottle, or a thief to walk my ambling

gelding, than my wife with herself; then she plots,

then she ruminates, then she devises; and what they

think in their hearts they may effect, they will

break their hearts but they will effect. God be

praised for my jealousy! Eleven o’clock the hour.

I will prevent this, detect my wife, be revenged on

Falstaff, and laugh at Page. I will about it;

better three hours too soon than a minute too late.

Fie, fie, fie! cuckold! cuckold! cuckold!

Exit

Scene 3

A field near Windsor.

Enter DOCTOR CAIUS and RUGBY

DOCTOR CAIUS Jack Rugby!

RUGBY Sir?

DOCTOR CAIUS Vat is de clock, Jack?

RUGBY ‘Tis past the hour, sir, that Sir Hugh promised to meet.

DOCTOR CAIUS By gar, he has save his soul, dat he is no come; he

has pray his Pible well, dat he is no come: by gar,

Jack Rugby, he is dead already, if he be come.

RUGBY He is wise, sir; he knew your worship would kill

him, if he came.

DOCTOR CAIUS By gar, de herring is no dead so as I vill kill him.

Take your rapier, Jack; I vill tell you how I vill kill him.

RUGBY Alas, sir, I cannot fence.

DOCTOR CAIUS Villany, take your rapier.

RUGBY Forbear; here’s company.

Enter Host, SHALLOW, SLENDER, and PAGE

Host Bless thee, bully doctor!

SHALLOW Save you, Master Doctor Caius!

PAGE Now, good master doctor!

SLENDER Give you good morrow, sir.

DOCTOR CAIUS Vat be all you, one, two, tree, four, come for?

Host To see thee fight, to see thee foin, to see thee

traverse; to see thee here, to see thee there; to

see thee pass thy punto, thy stock, thy reverse, thy

distance, thy montant. Is he dead, my Ethiopian? is

he dead, my Francisco? ha, bully! What says my

AEsculapius? my Galen? my heart of elder? ha! is

he dead, bully stale? is he dead?

DOCTOR CAIUS By gar, he is de coward Jack priest of de vorld; he

is not show his face.

Host Thou art a Castalion-King-Urinal. Hector of Greece, my boy!

DOCTOR CAIUS I pray you, bear vitness that me have stay six or

seven, two, tree hours for him, and he is no come.

SHALLOW He is the wiser man, master doctor: he is a curer of

souls, and you a curer of bodies; if you should

fight, you go against the hair of your professions.

Is it not true, Master Page?

PAGE Master Shallow, you have yourself been a great

fighter, though now a man of peace.

SHALLOW Bodykins, Master Page, though I now be old and of

the peace, if I see a sword out, my finger itches to

make one. Though we are justices and doctors and

churchmen, Master Page, we have some salt of our

youth in us; we are the sons of women, Master Page.

PAGE ‘Tis true, Master Shallow.

SHALLOW It will be found so, Master Page. Master Doctor

Caius, I am come to fetch you home. I am sworn of

the peace: you have showed yourself a wise

physician, and Sir Hugh hath shown himself a wise

and patient churchman. You must go with me, master doctor.

Host Pardon, guest-justice. A word, Mounseur Mockwater.

DOCTOR CAIUS Mock-vater! vat is dat?

Host Mock-water, in our English tongue, is valour, bully.

DOCTOR CAIUS By gar, den, I have as mush mock-vater as de

Englishman. Scurvy jack-dog priest! by gar, me

vill cut his ears.

Host He will clapper-claw thee tightly, bully.

DOCTOR CAIUS Clapper-de-claw! vat is dat?

Host That is, he will make thee amends.

DOCTOR CAIUS By gar, me do look he shall clapper-de-claw me;

for, by gar, me vill have it.

Host And I will provoke him to’t, or let him wag.

DOCTOR CAIUS Me tank you for dat.

Host And, moreover, bully,–but first, master guest, and

Master Page, and eke Cavaleiro Slender, go you

through the town to Frogmore.

Aside to them

PAGE Sir Hugh is there, is he?

Host He is there: see what humour he is in; and I will

bring the doctor about by the fields. Will it do well?

PAGE, SHALLOW, Slender We will do it.

Exeunt PAGE, SHALLOW, and SLENDER

DOCTOR CAIUS By gar, me vill kill de priest; for he speak for a

jack-an-ape to Anne Page.

Host Let him die: sheathe thy impatience, throw cold

water on thy choler: go about the fields with me

through Frogmore: I will bring thee where Mistress

Anne Page is, at a farm-house a-feasting; and thou

shalt woo her. Cried I aim? said I well?

DOCTOR CAIUS By gar, me dank you for dat: by gar, I love you;

and I shall procure-a you de good guest, de earl,

de knight, de lords, de gentlemen, my patients.

Host For the which I will be thy adversary toward Anne

Page. Said I well?

DOCTOR CAIUS By gar, ’tis good; vell said.

Host Let us wag, then.

DOCTOR CAIUS Come at my heels, Jack Rugby.

Exeunt

Act 3

Scene 1

A field near Frogmore.

Enter SIR HUGH EVANS and SIMPLE

SIR HUGH 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?

SIMPLE Marry, sir, the pittie-ward, the park-ward, every

way; old Windsor way, and every way but the town

way.

SIR HUGH EVANS I most fehemently desire you you will also look that

way.

SIMPLE I will, sir.

Exit

SIR HUGH 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

good opportunities for the ork. ‘Pless my soul!

Sings

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–

Mercy on me! I have a great dispositions to cry.

Sings

Melodious birds sing madrigals–

When as I sat in Pabylon–

And a thousand vagram posies.

To shallow &c.

Re-enter SIMPLE

SIMPLE Yonder he is coming, this way, Sir Hugh.

SIR HUGH EVANS He’s welcome.

Sings

To shallow rivers, to whose falls-

Heaven prosper the right! What weapons is he?

SIMPLE No weapons, sir. There comes my master, Master

Shallow, and another gentleman, from Frogmore, over

the stile, this way.

SIR HUGH EVANS Pray you, give me my gown; or else keep it in your arms.

Enter PAGE, SHALLOW, and SLENDER

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.

SLENDER [Aside]

Ah, sweet Anne Page!

PAGE ‘Save you, good Sir Hugh!

SIR HUGH EVANS ‘Pless you from his mercy sake, all of you!

SHALLOW What, the sword and the word! do you study them

both, master parson?

PAGE And youthful still! in your doublet and hose this

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

having received wrong by some person, is at most

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