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of suspicion!

      Mrs. Ford. What cause of suspicion?

      Mrs. Page. What cause of suspicion? Out upon you! How am I mistook in you!

      Mrs. Ford. Why, alas, what’s the matter?

      Mrs. Page. Your husband’s coming hither, woman, with all the officers in Windsor, to search for a gentleman that he says is here now in the house; by your consent to take an ill advantage of his absence. You are undone.

      Mrs. Ford. ’Tis not so, I hope.

      Mrs. Page. Pray heaven it be not so, that you have such a man here; but ’tis most certain your husband’s coming, with half Windsor at his heels, to search for such a one. I come before to tell you. If you know yourself clear, why, I am glad of it; but if you have a friend here, convey, convey him out. Be not amaz’d, call all your senses to you, defend your reputation, or bid farewell to your good life for ever.

      Mrs. Ford. What shall I do? There is a gentleman, my dear friend; and I fear not mine own shame so much as his peril. I had rather than a thousand pound he were out of the house.

      Mrs. Page. For shame, never stand ‘you had rather’ and ‘you had rather.’ Your husband’s here at hand, bethink you of some conveyance. In the house you cannot hide him. O, how have you deceiv’d me! Look, here is a basket; if he be of any reasonable stature, he may creep in here, and throw foul linen upon him, as if it were going to bucking; or—it is whiting-time—send him by your two men to Datchet-mead.

      Mrs. Ford. He’s too big to go in there. What shall I do?

      Fal. [Starting from his concealment.] Let me see’t, let me see’t, O, let me see’t! I’ll in, I’ll in. Follow your friend’s counsel. I’ll in.

      Mrs. Page. What, Sir John Falstaff? [Aside.] Are these your letters, knight?

      Fal. [To Mrs. Page.] I love thee. Help me away.—Let me creep in here. I’ll never—

       [Goes into the basket; they put clothes over him.]

      Mrs. Page. Help to cover your master, boy. Call your men, Mistress Ford. You dissembling knight!

      Mrs. Ford. What, John! Robert! John!

       [Exit Robin.]

       [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-mead; quickly, come.

       [Enter] Ford, Page, Caius, Evans.

      Ford. Pray you come near. If I suspect without cause, why then make sport at me, then let me be your jest, I deserve it. How now? Whither bear you this?

      Serv. To the laundress, forsooth.

      Mrs. Ford. Why, what have you to do whither they bear it? You were best meddle with buck-washing.

      Ford. Buck! I would I could wash myself of the buck! Buck, buck, buck! ay, buck! I warrant you, buck, and of the season too, it shall appear. [Exeunt Servants with the basket.] Gentlemen, I have dream’d to-night; I’ll tell you my dream. Here, here, here be my keys. Ascend my chambers, search, seek, find out. I’ll warrant we’ll unkennel the fox. Let me stop this way first. [Locking the door.] So, now uncape.

      Page. Good Master Ford, be contented. You wrong yourself too much.

      Ford. True, Master Page. Up, gentlemen, you shall see sport anon. Follow me, gentlemen.

       [Exit.]

      Evans. This is fery fantastical humors and jealousies.

      Caius. By gar, ’tis no the fashion of France; it is not jealous in France.

      Page. Nay, follow him, gentlemen, see the issue of his search.

       [Exeunt Page, Caius, and Evans.]

      Mrs. Page. Is there not a double excellency in this?

      Mrs. Ford. I know not which pleases me better, that my husband is deceiv’d, or Sir John.

      Mrs. Page. What a taking was he in when your husband ask’d who was in the basket!

      Mrs. Ford. I am half afraid he will have need of washing, so throwing him into the water will do him a benefit.

      Mrs. Page. Hang him, dishonest rascal! I would all of the same strain were in the same distress.

      Mrs. Ford. 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.

      Mrs. Page. I will lay a plot to try that, and we will yet have more tricks with Falstaff. His dissolute disease will scarce obey this medicine.

      Mrs. Ford. 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?

      Mrs. Page. We will do it. Let him be sent for to- morrow, eight a’ clock, to have amends.

       [Enter Ford, Page, Caius, and Evans.]

      Ford. I cannot find him. May be the knave bragg’d of that he could not compass.

      Mrs. Page [Aside to Mrs. Ford.] Heard you that?

      Mrs. Ford. You use me well, Master Ford, do you?

      Ford. Ay, I do so.

      Mrs. Ford. Heaven make you better than your thoughts!

      Ford. Amen!

      Mrs. Page. You do yourself mighty wrong, Master Ford.

      Ford. Ay, ay; I must bear it.

      Evans. If there be any pody in the house, and in the chambers, and in the coffers, and in the presses, heaven forgive my sins at the day of judgment!

      Caius. Be-gar, nor I too; there is no-bodies.

      Page. Fie, fie, Master Ford, are you not asham’d? What spirit, what devil suggests this imagination? I would not ha’ your distemper in this kind for the wealth of Windsor Castle.

      Ford. ’Tis my fault, Master Page. I suffer for it.

      Evans. You suffer for a pad conscience. Your wife is as honest a omans as I will desires among five thousand, and five hundred too.

      Caius. By gar, I see ’tis an honest woman.

      Ford. Well, I promis’d you a dinner. Come, come, walk in the park. I pray you pardon me; I will hereafter make known to you why I have done this. Come, wife, come, Mistress Page, I pray you pardon me; pray heartly pardon me.

      Page. Let’s go in, gentlemen, but (trust me) we’ll mock him. I do invite you to-morrow morning to my house to breakfast; after, we’ll a-birding together. I have a fine hawk for the bush. Shall it be so?

      Ford. Any thing.

      Evans. If there is one, I shall make two in the company.

      Caius. If there be one or two, I shall make-a the turd.

      Ford. Pray you go, Master Page.

       [Exit with Page.]

      Evans. I pray you now remembrance to-morrow on the lousy knave, mine host.

      Caius. Dat is good, by gar; with all my heart!

      Evans. A lousy knave, to have his gibes and his mockeries!

       Exeunt.

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