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Sir John, we have had ill luck; we could never meet. I will never take you for my love again; but I will always count you my deer.
Away, away!
Heaven forgive our sins
Mistress Page is come with me, sweetheart.
Sir John! art thou there, my deer? my male deer?
The hour draws on. To the oak, to the oak!
We'll betray him finely.
That cannot choose but amaze him.
Where is Nan now and her troop of fairies, and the Welsh devil Hugh?
And till he tell the truth, Let the supposed fairies pinch him sound And burn him with their tapers.
Marry, this is our device; That Falstaff at that oak shall meet with us.
Devise but how you'll use him when he comes, And let us two devise to bring him thither.
I'll warrant they'll have him publicly shamed: and methinks there would be no period to the jest, should he not be publicly shamed.
Shall we tell our husbands how we have served him?
What think you? may we, with the warrant of womanhood and the witness of a good conscience, pursue him with any further revenge?
Nay, by the mass, that he did not; he beat him most unpitifully, methought.
Nay, he will do it. 'Tis a goodly credit for you.
Nay, good, sweet husband! Good gentlemen, let him not strike the old woman.
Nay, it is my maid's aunt of Brentford.
What, ho, Mistress Page! come you and the old woman down; my husband will come into the chamber.
If you find a man there, he shall die a flea's death.
Why, man, why?
Are you not ashamed? let the clothes alone.
Heaven be my witness you do, if you suspect me in any dishonesty.
Go, sirs, take the basket again on your shoulders: your master is hard at door; if he bid you set it down, obey him: quickly, dispatch.
I'll first direct my men what they shall do with the basket. Go up; I'll bring linen for him straight.
We'll try that; for I'll appoint my men to carry the basket again, to meet him at the door with it, as they did last time.
But is my husband coming?
I would my husband would meet him in this shape: he cannot abide the old woman of Brentford; he swears she's a witch; forbade her my house and hath threatened to beat her.
Go, go, sweet Sir John: Mistress Page and I will look some linen for your head.
My maid's aunt, the fat woman of Brentford, has a gown above.
How might we disguise him?
He will seek there, on my word. Neither press, coffer, chest, trunk, well, vault, but he hath an abstract for the remembrance of such places, and goes to them by his note: there is no hiding you in the house.
There they always use to discharge their birding-pieces. Creep into the kiln-hole.
I am undone! The knight is here.
How near is he, Mistress Page?
Why, does he talk of him?
Why?
No, certainly. Aside to her Speak louder.
Why, none but mine own people.
Step into the chamber, Sir John.
He's a-birding, sweet Sir John.
Heaven make you better than your thoughts!
You use me well, Master Ford, do you?
Shall we send that foolish carrion, Mistress Quickly, to him, and excuse his throwing into the water; and give him another hope, to betray him to another punishment?
I think my husband hath some special suspicion of Falstaff's being here; for I never saw him so gross in his jealousy till now.
I am half afraid he will have need of washing; so throwing him into the water will do him a benefit.
I know not which pleases me better, that my husband is deceived, or Sir John.
Why, what have you to do whither they bear it? You were best meddle with buck-washing.
What, John! Robert! John! Exit ROBIN Re-enter Servants Go take up these clothes here quickly. Where's the cowl-staff? look, how you drumble! Carry them to the laundress in Datchet-meat; quickly, come.