William Shakespeare : Complete Collection (37 plays, 160 sonnets and 5 Poetry...)
this morning gone a-birding. I have receiv’d from her another ambassy of meeting. ’Twixt eight and nine is the hour, Master [Brook].
Ford. ’Tis past eight already, sir.
Fal. Is it? I will then address me to my appointment. Come to me at your convenient leisure, and you shall know how I speed; and the conclusion shall be crown’d with your enjoying her. Adieu. You shall have her, Master [Brook]. Master [Brook], you shall 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, Master 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 lecher; he is at my house. He cannot scape me; ’tis impossible he should; he cannot creep into a halfpenny purse, nor into a pepper-box. But lest the devil that guides him should aid him, I will search impossible places. Though what I am I cannot avoid, yet to be what I would not shall not make me tame. If I have horns to make one mad, let the proverb go with me: I’ll be horn-mad.
Exit.
¶
ACT IV
Scene I
Enter Mistress Page, [Mistress] Quickly, William.
Mrs. Page. Is he at Master Ford’s already, think’st thou?
Quick. Sure he is by this—or will be presently. But truly he is very courageous mad about his throwing into the water. Mistress Ford desires you to come suddenly.
Mrs. Page. I’ll be with her by and by; I’ll but bring my young man here to school.
[Enter] Evans.
Look where his master comes; ’tis a playing-day, I see. How now, Sir Hugh, no school to-day?
Evans. No; Master Slender is let the boys leave to play.
Quick. Blessing of his heart!
Mrs. Page. Sir Hugh, my husband says my son profits nothing in the world at his book. I pray you ask him some questions in his accidence.
Evans. Come hither, William; hold up your head; come.
Mrs. Page. Come on, sirrah; hold up your head. Answer your master, be not afraid.
Evans. William, how many numbers is in nouns?
Will. Two.
Quick. Truly, I thought there had been one number more, because they say, “’Od’s nouns.”
Evans. Peace your tattlings! What is ‘fair,’ William?
Will. Pulcher.
Quick. Poulcats? There are fairer things than poulcats sure.
Evans. You are a very simplicity oman; I pray you peace. What is lapis, William?
Will. A stone.
Evans. And what is ‘a stone,’ William?
Will. A pebble.
Evans. No; it is lapis. I pray you remember in your prain.
Will. Lapis.
Evans. That is a good William. What is he, William, that does lend articles?
Will. Articles are borrow’d of the pronoun, and be thus declin’d, Singulariter, nominativo, hic, haec, hoc.
Evans. Nominativo, hig, hag, hog; pray you mark; genitivo, hujus. Well, what is your accusative case?
Will. Accusativo, hinc.
Evans. I pray you have your remembrance, child. Accusativo, [hung], hang, hog.
Quick. ‘Hang-hog’ is Latin for bacon, I warrant you.
Evans. Leave your prabbles, oman. What is the focative case, William?
Will. O—vocativo, O.
Evans. Remember, William, focative is caret.
Quick. And that’s a good root.
Evans. Oman, forbear.
Mrs. Page. Peace!
Evans. What is your genitive case plural, William?
Will. Genitive case?
Evans. Ay.
Will. [Genitivo,] horum, harum, horum.
Quick. Vengeance of Jinny’s case! Fie on her! never name her, child, if she be a whore.
Evans. For shame, oman.
Quick. You do ill to teach the child such words. He teaches him to ‘hic’ and to ‘hac,’ which they’ll do fast enough of themselves, and to call ‘horum,’—fie upon you!
Evans. Oman, art thou [lunatics]? Hast thou no understandings for thy cases and the numbers of the genders? Thou art as foolish Christian creatures as I would desires.
Mrs. Page. Prithee hold thy peace.
Evans. Show me now, William, some declensions of your pronouns.
Will. Forsooth, I have forgot.
Evans. It is qui, [quae], quod: if you forget your qui’s, your [quae’s], and your quod’s, you must be preeches. Go your ways and play, go.
Mrs. Page. He is a better scholar than I thought he was.
Evans. He is a good sprag memory. Farewell, Mistress Page.
Mrs. Page. Adieu, good Sir Hugh. [Exit Evans.] Get you home, boy. Come, we stay too long.
Exeunt.
¶
Scene II
Enter Falstaff, Mistress Ford.
Fal. Mistress Ford, your sorrow hath eaten up my sufferance. I see you are obsequious in your love, and I profess requital to a hair’s breadth, not only, Mistress Ford, in the simple office of love, but in all the accoustrement, complement, and ceremony of it. But are you sure of your husband now?
Mrs. Ford. He’s a-birding, sweet Sir John.
Mrs. Page [Within.] What ho, gossip Ford! What ho!
Mrs. Ford. Step into th’ chamber, Sir John.
[Exit Falstaff.]
[Enter] Mistress Page.
Mrs. Page. How now, sweet heart, who’s at home besides yourself?
Mrs. Ford. Why, none but mine own people.
Mrs. Page. Indeed?
Mrs. Ford. No, certainly. [Aside to her.] Speak louder.
Mrs. Page. Truly, I am so glad you have nobody here.
Mrs. Ford. Why?
Mrs. Page. Why, woman, your husband is in his old lines again. He so takes on yonder with my husband; so rails against all married mankind; so curses all Eve’s daughters, of what complexion soever; and