The Complete Works of William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare (moboreader .TXT) π
The world will be thy widow and still weep,
That thou no form of thee hast left behind,
When every private widow well may keep,
By children's eyes, her husband's shape in mind:
Look what an unthrift in the world doth spend
Shifts but his place, for still the world enjoys it;
But beauty's waste hath in the world an end,
And kept unused the user so destroys it:
No love toward others in that bosom sits
That on himself such murd'rous shame commits.
10
For shame deny that thou bear'st love to any
Who for thy self art so unprovident.
Grant if thou wilt, thou art beloved of many,
But that thou none lov'st is most evident:
For thou art so possessed with murd'rous hate,
That 'gainst thy self thou stick'st not to conspire,
Seeking that beauteous roof to ruinate
Which to repair should be thy chief desire:
O change thy thought, that I may change my mind,
Shall hate be fairer lodged than
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- Author: William Shakespeare
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FENTON. Well, farewell; I am in great haste now.
QUICKLY. Farewell to your worship. [Exit FENTON] Truly, an honest gentleman; but Anne loves him not; for I know Anneβs mind as well as another does. Out upon βt, what have I forgot? Exit
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ACT II. SCENE 1.
Before PAGEβS house
Enter MISTRESS PAGE, with a letter
MRS. PAGE. What! have I scapβd love-letters in the holiday-time of my beauty, and am I now a subject for them? Let me see. [Reads]
βAsk me no reason why I love you; for though Love use Reason for his precisian, he admits him not for his counsellor.
You are not young, no more am I; go to, then, thereβs sympathy. You are merry, so am I; ha! ha! then thereβs more sympathy. You love sack, and so do I; would you desire better sympathy? Let it suffice thee, Mistress Page at the least, if the love of soldier can suffice-that I love thee. I will not say, Pity me: βtis not a soldier-like phrase; but I say, Love me. By me,
Thine own true knight,
By day or night,
Or any kind of light,
With all his might,
For thee to fight,
JOHN FALSTAFF.β
What a Herod of Jewry is this! O wicked, wicked world!
One that is well-nigh worn to pieces with age to show himself a young gallant! What an unweighed behaviour hath this Flemish drunkard pickβd-with the devilβs name!
-out of my conversation, that he dares in this manner assay me? Why, he hath not been thrice in my company!
What should I say to him? I was then frugal of my mirth.
Heaven forgive me! Why, Iβll exhibit a bill in the parliament for the putting down of men. How shall I be revengβd on him? for revengβd I will be, as sure as his guts are made of puddings.
Enter MISTRESS FORD
MRS. FORD. Mistress Page! trust me, I was going to your house.
MRS. PAGE. And, trust me, I was coming to you. You look very ill.
MRS. FORD. Nay, Iβll neβer believe that; I have to show to the contrary.
MRS. PAGE. Faith, but you do, in my mind.
MRS. FORD. Well, I do, then; yet, I say, I could show you to the contrary. O Mistress Page, give me some counsel.
MRS. PAGE. Whatβs the matter, woman?
MRS. FORD. O woman, if it were not for one trifling respect, I could come to such honour!
MRS. PAGE. Hang the trifle, woman; take the honour. What is it? Dispense with trifles; what is it?
MRS. FORD. If I would but go to hell for an eternal moment or so, I could be knighted.
MRS. PAGE. What? Thou liest. Sir Alice Ford! These knights will hack; and so thou shouldst not alter the article of thy gentry.
MRS. FORD. We burn daylight. Here, read, read; perceive how I might be knighted. I shall think the worse of fat men as long as I have an eye to make difference of menβs liking. And yet he would not swear; praisβd womenβs modesty, and gave such orderly and well-behaved reproof to all uncomeliness that I would have sworn his disposition would have gone to the truth of his words; but they do no more adhere and keep place together than the Hundredth Psalm to the tune of βGreensleeves.β What tempest, I trow, threw this whale, with so many tuns of oil in his belly, ashore at Windsor? How shall I be revenged on him? I think the best way were to entertain him with hope, till the wicked fire of lust have melted him in his own grease.
Did you ever hear the like?
MRS. PAGE. Letter for letter, but that the name of Page and Ford differs. To thy great comfort in this mystery of ill opinions, hereβs the twin-brother of thy letter; but let thine inherit first, for, I protest, mine never shall. I warrant he hath a thousand of these letters, writ with blank space for different names-sure, more!-and these are of the second edition. He will print them, out of doubt; for he cares not what he puts into the press when he would put us two. I had rather be a giantess and lie under Mount Pelion. Well, I will find you twenty lascivious turtles ere one chaste man.
MRS. FORD. Why, this is the very same; the very hand, the very words. What doth he think of us?
MRS. PAGE. Nay, I know not; it makes me almost ready to wrangle with mine own honesty. Iβll entertain myself like one that I am not acquainted withal; for, sure, unless he know some strain in me that I know not myself, he would never have boarded me in this fury.
MRS. FORD. βBoardingβ call you it? Iβll be sure to keep him above deck.
MRS. PAGE. So will I; if he come under my hatches, Iβll never to sea again. Letβs be revengβd on him; letβs appoint him a meeting, give him a show of comfort in his suit, and lead him on with a fine-baited delay, till he hath pawnβd his horses to mine host of the Garter.
MRS. FORD. Nay, I will consent to act any villainy against him that may not sully the chariness of our honesty. O
that my husband saw this letter! It would give eternal food to his jealousy.
MRS. PAGE. Why, look where he comes; and my good man too; heβs as far from jealousy as I am from giving him cause; and that, I hope, is an unmeasurable distance.
MRS. FORD. You are the happier woman.
MRS. PAGE. Letβs consult together against this greasy knight.
Come hither. [They retire]
Enter FORD with PISTOL, and PAGE with Nym FORD. Well, I hope it be not so.
PISTOL. Hope is a curtal dog in some affairs.
Sir John affects thy wife.
FORD. Why, sir, my wife is not young.
PISTOL. He woos both high and low, both rich and poor, Both young and old, one with another, Ford; He loves the gallimaufry. Ford, perpend.
FORD. Love my wife!
PISTOL. With liver burning hot. Prevent, or go thou, Like Sir Actaeon he, with Ringwood at thy heels.
O, odious is the name!
FORD. What name, sir?
PISTOL. The horn, I say. Farewell.
Take heed, have open eye, for thieves do foot by night; Take heed, ere summer comes, or cuckoo birds do sing.
Away, Sir Corporal Nym.
Believe it, Page; he speaks sense. Exit PISTOL
FORD. [Aside] I will be patient; I will find out this.
NYM. [To PAGE] And this is true; I like not the humour of lying. He hath wronged me in some humours; I should have borne the humourβd letter to her; but I have a sword, and it shall bite upon my necessity. He loves your wife; thereβs the short and the long.
My name is Corporal Nym; I speak, and I avouch; βTis true. My name is Nym, and Falstaff loves your wife.
Adieu! I love not the humour of bread and cheese; and thereβs the humour of it. Adieu. Exit Nym PAGE. βThe humour of it,β quoth βa! Hereβs a fellow frights English out of his wits.
FORD. I will seek out Falstaff.
PAGE. I never heard such a drawling, affecting rogue.
FORD. If I do find it-well.
PAGE. I will not believe such a Cataian though the priest oβ
thβ town commended him for a true man.
FORD. βTwas a good sensible fellow. Well.
MISTRESS PAGE and MISTRESS FORD come forward PAGE. How now, Meg!
MRS. PAGE. Whither go you, George? Hark you.
MRS. FORD. How now, sweet Frank, why art thou melancholy?
FORD. I melancholy! I am not melancholy. Get you home; go.
MRS. FORD. Faith, thou hast some crotchets in thy head now.
Will you go, Mistress Page?
Enter MISTRESS QUICKLY
MRS. PAGE. Have with you. Youβll come to dinner, George?
[Aside to MRS. FORD] Look who comes yonder; she shall be our messenger to this paltry knight.
MRS. FORD. [Aside to MRS. PAGE] Trust me, I thought on her; sheβll fit it.
MRS. PAGE. You are come to see my daughter Anne?
QUICKLY. Ay, forsooth; and, I pray, how does good Mistress Anne?
MRS. PAGE. Go in with us and see; we have an hourβs talk with you. Exeunt MISTRESS PAGE, MISTRESS FORD, and MISTRESS QUICKLY
PAGE. How now, Master Ford!
FORD. You heard what this knave told me, did you not?
PAGE. Yes; and you heard what the other told me?
FORD. Do you think there is truth in them?
PAGE. Hang βem, slaves! I do not think the knight would offer it; but these that accuse him in his intent towards our wives are a yoke of his discarded men; very rogues, now they be out of service.
FORD. Were they his men?
PAGE. Marry, were they.
FORD. I like it never the better for that. Does he lie at the Garter?
PAGE. Ay, marry, does he. If he should intend this voyage toward my wife, I would turn her loose to him; and what he gets more of her than sharp words, let it lie on my head.
FORD. I do not misdoubt my wife; but I would be loath to turn them together. A man may be too confident. I would have nothing lie on my head. I cannot be thus satisfied.
Enter HOST
PAGE. Look where my ranting host of the Garter comes.
There is either liquor in his pate or money in his purse when he looks so merrily. How now, mine host!
HOST. How now, bully rook! Thouβrt a gentleman. [To SHALLOW following] Cavaleiro Justice, I say.
Enter SHALLOW
SHALLOW. I follow, mine host, I follow. Good even and twenty, good Master Page! Master Page, will you go with us? We have sport in hand.
HOST. Tell him, Cavaleiro Justice; tell him, bully rook.
SHALLOW. Sir, there is a fray to be fought between Sir Hugh the Welsh priest and Caius the French doctor.
FORD. Good mine host oβ thβ Garter, a word with you.
HOST. What sayβst thou, my bully rook? [They go aside]
SHALLOW. [To PAGE] Will you go with us to behold it? My merry host hath had the measuring of their weapons; and, I think, hath appointed them contrary places; for, believe me, I hear the parson is no jester. Hark, I will tell you what our sport shall be. [They converse apart]
HOST. Hast thou no suit against my knight, my guest-cavaleiro.
FORD. None, I protest; but Iβll give you a pottle of burnt sack to give me recourse to him, and tell him my name is Brook-only for a jest.
HOST. My hand, bully; thou shalt have egress and regress-said I well?-and thy name shall be Brook. It is a merry knight. Will you go, Mynheers?
SHALLOW. Have with you, mine host.
PAGE. I have heard the Frenchman hath good skill in his rapier.
SHALLOW. Tut, sir, I could have told you more. In these times you stand on distance, your passes, stoccadoes, and I know not what. βTis the heart, Master Page; βtis here, βtis here. I have seen the time with my long sword I would have made you four tall fellows skip like rats.
HOST. Here, boys, here, here! Shall we wag?
PAGE. Have with
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