All of Shakespeare’s plays.
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.
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
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
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
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?
Aside to her
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
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!
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.
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