Speeches (Lines) for Mistress Page in "The Merry Wives of Windsor"

Mistress Quickly. Farewell to your worship.
[Exit FENTON]
Truly, an honest gentleman: but Anne loves him not;
for I know Anne's mind as well as another does. Out
upon't! what have I forgot?

Mistress Page. What, have I scaped love-letters in the holiday-
time of my beauty, and am I now a subject for them?
Let me see.
[Reads]
'Ask me no reason why I love you; for though
Love use Reason for his physician, he admits him
not for his counsellor. You are not young, no more
am I; go to then, there's sympathy: you are merry,
so am I; ha, ha! then there's 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; 'tis
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'
What a Herod of Jewry is this! O wicked
world! One that is well-nigh worn to pieces with
age to show himself a young gallant! What an
unweighed behavior hath this Flemish drunkard
picked--with the devil's 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, I'll exhibit a bill
in the parliament for the putting down of men. How
shall I be revenged on him? for revenged I will be,
as sure as his guts are made of puddings.

Mistress Ford. Mistress Page! trust me, I was going to your house.

Mistress Page. And, trust me, I was coming to you. You look very
ill.

Mistress Ford. Nay, I'll ne'er believe that; I have to show to the contrary.

Mistress Page. Faith, but you do, in my mind.

Mistress Ford. Well, I do then; yet I say I could show you to the
contrary. O Mistress Page, give me some counsel!

Mistress Page. What's the matter, woman?

Mistress Ford. O woman, if it were not for one trifling respect, I
could come to such honour!

Mistress Page. Hang the trifle, woman! take the honour. What is
it? dispense with trifles; what is it?

Mistress Ford. If I would but go to hell for an eternal moment or so,
I could be knighted.

Mistress Page. What? thou liest! Sir Alice Ford! These knights
will hack; and so thou shouldst not alter the
article of thy gentry.

Mistress 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
men's liking: and yet he would not swear; praised
women's 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 'Green Sleeves.' 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?

Mistress Page. Letter for letter, but that the name of Page and
Ford differs! To thy great comfort in this mystery
of ill opinions, here's 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.

Mistress Ford. Why, this is the very same; the very hand, the very
words. What doth he think of us?

Mistress Page. Nay, I know not: it makes me almost ready to
wrangle with mine own honesty. I'll 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.

Mistress Ford. 'Boarding,' call you it? I'll be sure to keep him
above deck.

Mistress Page. So will I. if he come under my hatches, I'll never
to sea again. Let's be revenged on him: let's
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 pawned his horses to mine host of the Garter.

Mistress Ford. Nay, I will consent to act any villany 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.

Mistress Page. Why, look where he comes; and my good man too: he's
as far from jealousy as I am from giving him cause;
and that I hope is an unmeasurable distance.

Mistress Ford. You are the happier woman.

Mistress Page. Let's consult together against this greasy knight.
Come hither.

Page. How now, Meg!

Mistress Page. Whither go you, George? Hark you.

Mistress Ford. Faith, thou hast some crotchets in thy head. Now,
will you go, Mistress Page?

Mistress Page. Have with you. You'll come to dinner, George.
[Aside to MISTRESS FORD]
Look who comes yonder: she shall be our messenger
to this paltry knight.

Mistress Ford. [Aside to MISTRESS PAGE] Trust me, I thought on her:
she'll fit it.

Mistress Page. You are come to see my daughter Anne?

Mistress Quickly. Ay, forsooth; and, I pray, how does good Mistress Anne?

Mistress Page. Go in with us and see: we have an hour's talk with
you.

Sir Hugh Evans. Well, I will smite his noddles. Pray you, follow.

Mistress Page. Nay, keep your way, little gallant; you were wont to
be a follower, but now you are a leader. Whether
had you rather lead mine eyes, or eye your master's heels?

Robin. I had rather, forsooth, go before you like a man
than follow him like a dwarf.

Mistress Page. O, you are a flattering boy: now I see you'll be a courtier.

Ford. Well met, Mistress Page. Whither go you?

Mistress Page. Truly, sir, to see your wife. Is she at home?

Ford. Ay; and as idle as she may hang together, for want
of company. I think, if your husbands were dead,
you two would marry.

Mistress Page. Be sure of that,--two other husbands.

Ford. Where had you this pretty weather-cock?

Mistress Page. I cannot tell what the dickens his name is my
husband had him of. What do you call your knight's
name, sirrah?

Ford. Sir John Falstaff!

Mistress Page. He, he; I can never hit on's name. There is such a
league between my good man and he! Is your wife at
home indeed?

Ford. Indeed she is.

Mistress Page. By your leave, sir: I am sick till I see her.

Mistress Ford. What, John! What, Robert!

Mistress Page. Quickly, quickly! is the buck-basket--

Mistress Ford. I warrant. What, Robin, I say!

Mistress Page. Come, come, come.

Mistress Ford. Here, set it down.

Mistress Page. Give your men the charge; we must be brief.

Mistress Ford. Marry, as I told you before, John and Robert, be
ready here hard by in the brew-house: and when I
suddenly call you, come forth, and without any pause
or staggering take this basket on your shoulders:
that done, trudge with it in all haste, and carry
it among the whitsters in Datchet-mead, and there
empty it in the muddy ditch close by the Thames side.

Mistress Page. You will do it?

Mistress Ford. I ha' told them over and over; they lack no
direction. Be gone, and come when you are called.

Mistress Page. Here comes little Robin.

Robin. My master, Sir John, is come in at your back-door,
Mistress Ford, and requests your company.

Mistress Page. You little Jack-a-Lent, have you been true to us?

Robin. Ay, I'll be sworn. My master knows not of your
being here and hath threatened to put me into
everlasting liberty if I tell you of it; for he
swears he'll turn me away.

Mistress Page. Thou'rt a good boy: this secrecy of thine shall be
a tailor to thee and shall make thee a new doublet
and hose. I'll go hide me.

Mistress Ford. Do so. Go tell thy master I am alone.
[Exit ROBIN]
Mistress Page, remember you your cue.

Mistress Page. I warrant thee; if I do not act it, hiss me.

Mistress Ford. Pray you, do so: she's a very tattling woman.
[FALSTAFF hides himself]
[Re-enter MISTRESS PAGE and ROBIN]
What's the matter? how now!

Mistress Page. O Mistress Ford, what have you done? You're shamed,
you're overthrown, you're undone for ever!

Mistress Ford. What's the matter, good Mistress Page?

Mistress Page. O well-a-day, Mistress Ford! having an honest man
to your husband, to give him such cause of suspicion!

Mistress Ford. What cause of suspicion?

Mistress Page. What cause of suspicion! Out pon you! how am I
mistook in you!

Mistress Ford. Why, alas, what's the matter?

Mistress 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 assence: you are undone.

Mistress Ford. 'Tis not so, I hope.

Mistress 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
amazed; call all your senses to you; defend your
reputation, or bid farewell to your good life for ever.

Mistress 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.

Mistress 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 deceived 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.

Falstaff. [Coming forward] 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.

Mistress Page. What, Sir John Falstaff! Are these your letters, knight?

Falstaff. I love thee. Help me away. Let me creep in here.
I'll never--

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

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

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

Mistress Ford. I know not which pleases me better, that my husband
is deceived, or Sir John.

Mistress Page. What a taking was he in when your husband asked who
was in the basket!

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

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

Mistress 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.

Mistress 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.

Mistress 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?

Mistress Page. We will do it: let him be sent for to-morrow,
eight o'clock, to have amends.

Ford. I cannot find him: may be the knave bragged of that
he could not compass.

Mistress Page. [Aside to MISTRESS FORD] Heard you that?

Ford. Amen!

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

Fenton. Nay, Master Page, be not impatient.

Mistress Page. Good Master Fenton, come not to my child.

Anne Page. Good mother, do not marry me to yond fool.

Mistress Page. I mean it not; I seek you a better husband.

Anne Page. Alas, I had rather be set quick i' the earth
And bowl'd to death with turnips!

Mistress Page. Come, trouble not yourself. Good Master Fenton,
I will not be your friend nor enemy:
My daughter will I question how she loves you,
And as I find her, so am I affected.
Till then farewell, sir: she must needs go in;
Her father will be angry.

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.

Mistress Page. Is he at Master Ford's already, think'st thou?

Mistress Quickly. 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.

Mistress Page. I'll be with her by and by; I'll but bring my young
man here to school. Look, where his master comes;
'tis a playing-day, I see.
[Enter SIR HUGH EVANS]
How now, Sir Hugh! no school to-day?

Mistress Quickly. Blessing of his heart!

Mistress 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.

Sir Hugh Evans. Come hither, William; hold up your head; come.

Mistress Page. Come on, sirrah; hold up your head; answer your
master, be not afraid.

Sir Hugh Evans. 'Oman, forbear.

Mistress Page. Peace!

Sir Hugh 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.

Mistress Page. Prithee, hold thy peace.

Sir Hugh Evans. It is qui, quae, quod: if you forget your 'quies,'
your 'quaes,' and your 'quods,' you must be
preeches. Go your ways, and play; go.

Mistress Page. He is a better scholar than I thought he was.

Sir Hugh Evans. He is a good sprag memory. Farewell, Mistress Page.

Mistress Page. Adieu, good Sir Hugh.
[Exit SIR HUGH EVANS]
Get you home, boy. Come, we stay too long.

Mistress Ford. He's a-birding, sweet Sir John.

Mistress Page. [Within] What, ho, gossip Ford! what, ho!

Mistress Ford. Step into the chamber, Sir John.

Mistress Page. How now, sweetheart! who's at home besides yourself?

Mistress Ford. Why, none but mine own people.

Mistress Page. Indeed!

Mistress Ford. No, certainly.
[Aside to her]
Speak louder.

Mistress Page. Truly, I am so glad you have nobody here.

Mistress Ford. Why?

Mistress Page. Why, woman, your husband is in his old lunes 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 so buffets
himself on the forehead, crying, 'Peer out, peer
out!' that any madness I ever yet beheld seemed but
tameness, civility and patience, to this his
distemper he is in now: I am glad the fat knight is not here.

Mistress Ford. Why, does he talk of him?

Mistress Page. Of none but him; and swears he was carried out, the
last time he searched for him, in a basket; protests
to my husband he is now here, and hath drawn him and
the rest of their company from their sport, to make
another experiment of his suspicion: but I am glad
the knight is not here; now he shall see his own foolery.

Mistress Ford. How near is he, Mistress Page?

Mistress Page. Hard by; at street end; he will be here anon.

Mistress Ford. I am undone! The knight is here.

Mistress Page. Why then you are utterly shamed, and he's but a dead
man. What a woman are you!--Away with him, away
with him! better shame than murder.

Falstaff. No, I'll come no more i' the basket. May I not go
out ere he come?

Mistress Page. Alas, three of Master Ford's brothers watch the door
with pistols, that none shall issue out; otherwise
you might slip away ere he came. But what make you here?

Falstaff. I'll go out then.

Mistress Page. If you go out in your own semblance, you die, Sir
John. Unless you go out disguised--

Mistress Ford. How might we disguise him?

Mistress Page. Alas the day, I know not! There is no woman's gown
big enough for him otherwise he might put on a hat,
a muffler and a kerchief, and so escape.

Mistress Ford. My maid's aunt, the fat woman of Brentford, has a
gown above.

Mistress Page. On my word, it will serve him; she's as big as he
is: and there's her thrummed hat and her muffler
too. Run up, Sir John.

Mistress Ford. Go, go, sweet Sir John: Mistress Page and I will
look some linen for your head.

Mistress Page. Quick, quick! we'll come dress you straight: put
on the gown the while.

Mistress Ford. 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.

Mistress Page. Heaven guide him to thy husband's cudgel, and the
devil guide his cudgel afterwards!

Mistress Ford. But is my husband coming?

Mistress Page. Ah, in good sadness, is he; and talks of the basket
too, howsoever he hath had intelligence.

Mistress Ford. 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.

Mistress Page. Nay, but he'll be here presently: let's go dress him
like the witch of Brentford.

Mistress Ford. I'll first direct my men what they shall do with the
basket. Go up; I'll bring linen for him straight.

Mistress Page. Hang him, dishonest varlet! we cannot misuse him enough.
We'll leave a proof, by that which we will do,
Wives may be merry, and yet honest too:
We do not act that often jest and laugh;
'Tis old, but true, Still swine eat all the draff.

Mistress Ford. Nay, good, sweet husband! Good gentlemen, let him
not strike the old woman.

Mistress Page. Come, Mother Prat; come, give me your hand.

Ford. I'll prat her.
[Beating him]
Out of my door, you witch, you hag, you baggage, you
polecat, you runyon! out, out! I'll conjure you,
I'll fortune-tell you.

Mistress Page. Are you not ashamed? I think you have killed the
poor woman.

Page. Let's obey his humour a little further: come,
gentlemen.

Mistress Page. Trust me, he beat him most pitifully.

Mistress Ford. Nay, by the mass, that he did not; he beat him most
unpitifully, methought.

Mistress Page. I'll have the cudgel hallowed and hung o'er the
altar; it hath done meritorious service.

Mistress Ford. What think you? may we, with the warrant of
womanhood and the witness of a good conscience,
pursue him with any further revenge?

Mistress Page. The spirit of wantonness is, sure, scared out of
him: if the devil have him not in fee-simple, with
fine and recovery, he will never, I think, in the
way of waste, attempt us again.

Mistress Ford. Shall we tell our husbands how we have served him?

Mistress Page. Yes, by all means; if it be but to scrape the
figures out of your husband's brains. If they can
find in their hearts the poor unvirtuous fat knight
shall be any further afflicted, we two will still be
the ministers.

Mistress Ford. 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.

Mistress Page. Come, to the forge with it then; shape it: I would
not have things cool.

Page. And did he send you both these letters at an instant?

Mistress Page. Within a quarter of an hour.

Mistress Ford. Devise but how you'll use him when he comes,
And let us two devise to bring him thither.

Mistress Page. There is an old tale goes that Herne the hunter,
Sometime a keeper here in Windsor forest,
Doth all the winter-time, at still midnight,
Walk round about an oak, with great ragg'd horns;
And there he blasts the tree and takes the cattle
And makes milch-kine yield blood and shakes a chain
In a most hideous and dreadful manner:
You have heard of such a spirit, and well you know
The superstitious idle-headed eld
Received and did deliver to our age
This tale of Herne the hunter for a truth.

Page. Well, let it not be doubted but he'll come:
And in this shape when you have brought him thither,
What shall be done with him? what is your plot?

Mistress Page. That likewise have we thought upon, and thus:
Nan Page my daughter and my little son
And three or four more of their growth we'll dress
Like urchins, ouphes and fairies, green and white,
With rounds of waxen tapers on their heads,
And rattles in their hands: upon a sudden,
As Falstaff, she and I, are newly met,
Let them from forth a sawpit rush at once
With some diffused song: upon their sight,
We two in great amazedness will fly:
Then let them all encircle him about
And, fairy-like, to-pinch the unclean knight,
And ask him why, that hour of fairy revel,
In their so sacred paths he dares to tread
In shape profane.

Mistress Ford. And till he tell the truth,
Let the supposed fairies pinch him sound
And burn him with their tapers.

Mistress Page. The truth being known,
We'll all present ourselves, dis-horn the spirit,
And mock him home to Windsor.

Ford. That will be excellent. I'll go and buy them vizards.

Mistress Page. My Nan shall be the queen of all the fairies,
Finely attired in a robe of white.

Ford. Nay I'll to him again in name of Brook
He'll tell me all his purpose: sure, he'll come.

Mistress Page. Fear not you that. Go get us properties
And tricking for our fairies.

Sir Hugh Evans. Let us about it: it is admirable pleasures and fery
honest knaveries.

Mistress Page. Go, Mistress Ford,
Send quickly to Sir John, to know his mind.
[Exit MISTRESS FORD]
I'll to the doctor: he hath my good will,
And none but he, to marry with Nan Page.
That Slender, though well landed, is an idiot;
And he my husband best of all affects.
The doctor is well money'd, and his friends
Potent at court: he, none but he, shall have her,
Though twenty thousand worthier come to crave her.

Page. The night is dark; light and spirits will become it
well. Heaven prosper our sport! No man means evil
but the devil, and we shall know him by his horns.
Let's away; follow me.

Mistress Page. Master doctor, my daughter is in green: when you
see your time, take her by the band, away with her
to the deanery, and dispatch it quickly. Go before
into the Park: we two must go together.

Doctor Caius. I know vat I have to do. Adieu.

Mistress Page. Fare you well, sir.
[Exit DOCTOR CAIUS]
My husband will not rejoice so much at the abuse of
Falstaff as he will chafe at the doctor's marrying
my daughter: but 'tis no matter; better a little
chiding than a great deal of heart-break.

Mistress Ford. Where is Nan now and her troop of fairies, and the
Welsh devil Hugh?

Mistress Page. They are all couched in a pit hard by Herne's oak,
with obscured lights; which, at the very instant of
Falstaff's and our meeting, they will at once
display to the night.

Mistress Ford. That cannot choose but amaze him.

Mistress Page. If he be not amazed, he will be mocked; if he be
amazed, he will every way be mocked.

Mistress Ford. We'll betray him finely.

Mistress Page. Against such lewdsters and their lechery
Those that betray them do no treachery.

Falstaff. Divide me like a bribe buck, each a haunch: I will
keep my sides to myself, my shoulders for the fellow
of this walk, and my horns I bequeath your husbands.
Am I a woodman, ha? Speak I like Herne the hunter?
Why, now is Cupid a child of conscience; he makes
restitution. As I am a true spirit, welcome!

Mistress Page. Alas, what noise?

Page. Nay, do not fly; I think we have watch'd you now
Will none but Herne the hunter serve your turn?

Mistress Page. I pray you, come, hold up the jest no higher
Now, good Sir John, how like you Windsor wives?
See you these, husband? do not these fair yokes
Become the forest better than the town?

Falstaff. 'Seese' and 'putter'! have I lived to stand at the
taunt of one that makes fritters of English? This
is enough to be the decay of lust and late-walking
through the realm.

Mistress Page. Why Sir John, do you think, though we would have the
virtue out of our hearts by the head and shoulders
and have given ourselves without scruple to hell,
that ever the devil could have made you our delight?

Ford. What, a hodge-pudding? a bag of flax?

Mistress Page. A puffed man?

Page. Yet be cheerful, knight: thou shalt eat a posset
to-night at my house; where I will desire thee to
laugh at my wife, that now laughs at thee: tell her
Master Slender hath married her daughter.

Mistress Page. [Aside] Doctors doubt that: if Anne Page be my
daughter, she is, by this, Doctor Caius' wife.

Slender. I went to her in white, and cried 'mum,' and she
cried 'budget,' as Anne and I had appointed; and yet
it was not Anne, but a postmaster's boy.

Mistress Page. Good George, be not angry: I knew of your purpose;
turned my daughter into green; and, indeed, she is
now with the doctor at the deanery, and there married.

Doctor Caius. Vere is Mistress Page? By gar, I am cozened: I ha'
married un garcon, a boy; un paysan, by gar, a boy;
it is not Anne Page: by gar, I am cozened.

Mistress Page. Why, did you take her in green?

Page. Now, mistress, how chance you went not with Master Slender?

Mistress Page. Why went you not with master doctor, maid?

Falstaff. When night-dogs run, all sorts of deer are chased.

Mistress Page. Well, I will muse no further. Master Fenton,
Heaven give you many, many merry days!
Good husband, let us every one go home,
And laugh this sport o'er by a country fire;
Sir John and all.