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Full Online Book HomePlaysThe Merry Wives Of Windsor - ACT III - SCENE I
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The Merry Wives Of Windsor - ACT III - SCENE I Post by :mglaser Category :Plays Author :William Shakespeare Date :May 2011 Read :1746

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The Merry Wives Of Windsor - ACT III - SCENE I

ACT III. SCENE I.

A field near Frogmore.

(Enter SIR HUGH EVANS and SIMPLE.)


EVANS.
I pray you now, good Master Slender's serving-man,
and friend Simple by your name, which way have you
look'd for Master Caius, that calls himself Doctor of
Physic?

SIMPLE.
Marry, sir, the pittie-ward, the park-ward; every
way; old Windsor way, and every way but the town way.

EVANS.
I most fehemently desire you you will also look that way.

SIMPLE. I will, Sir.

(Exit.)

EVANS.
Pless my soul, how full of chollors I am, and trempling
of mind! I shall be glad if he have deceived me. How
melancholies I am! I will knog his urinals about his knave's
costard when I have goot opportunities for the ork. Pless
my soul!

(Sings)

To shallow rivers, to whose falls
Melodious birds sings madrigals;
There will we make our peds of roses,
And a thousand fragrant posies.
To shallow-
Mercy on me! I have a great dispositions to cry.

(Sings)

Melodious birds sing madrigals-
Whenas I sat in Pabylon-
And a thousand vagram posies.
To shallow, etc.

(Re-enter SIMPLE.)

SIMPLE.
Yonder he is, coming this way, Sir Hugh.

EVANS.
He's welcome.

(Sings)

To shallow rivers, to whose falls-
Heaven prosper the right! What weapons is he?

SIMPLE.
No weapons, sir. There comes my master, Master
Shallow, and another gentleman, from Frogmore, over the
stile, this way.

EVANS.
Pray you give me my gown; or else keep it in your arms.

(Takes out a book)

(Enter PAGE, SHALLOW, and SLENDER.)

SHALLOW.
How now, Master Parson! Good morrow, good
Sir Hugh. Keep a gamester from the dice,
and a good student from his book, and it is wonderful.

SLENDER.
(Aside)

Ah, sweet Anne Page!

PAGE.
Save you, good Sir Hugh!

EVANS.
Pless you from his mercy sake, all of you!

SHALLOW.
What, the sword and the word! Do you study
them both, Master Parson?

PAGE.
And youthful still,
in your doublet and hose, this raw rheumatic day!

EVANS.
There is reasons and causes for it.

PAGE.
We are come to you to do a good office, Master Parson.

EVANS.
Fery well; what is it?

PAGE.
Yonder is a most reverend gentleman, who, belike having
received wrong by some person, is at most odds with
his own gravity and patience that ever you saw.

SHALLOW.
I have lived fourscore years and upward; I never
heard a man of his place, gravity, and learning, so wide of
his own respect.

EVANS.
What is he?

PAGE.
I think you know him: Master Doctor Caius, the
renowned French physician.

EVANS.
Got's will and his passion of my heart! I had as lief
you would tell me of a mess of porridge.

PAGE.
Why?

EVANS.
He has no more knowledge in Hibocrates and
Galen, and he is a knave besides-a cowardly knave as you
would desires to be acquainted withal.

PAGE.
I warrant you, he's the man should fight with him.

SLENDER.
(Aside)

O sweet Anne Page!

SHALLOW.
It appears so, by his weapons. Keep them asunder;
here comes Doctor Caius.

(Enter HOST, CAIUS, and RUGBY.)

PAGE.
Nay, good Master Parson, keep in your weapon.

SHALLOW.
So do you, good Master Doctor.

HOST.
Disarm them, and let them question; let them keep
their limbs whole and hack our English.

CAIUS.
I pray you, let-a me speak a word with your ear.
Verefore will you not meet-a me?

EVANS.
(Aside to CAIUS)

Pray you use your patience; in good time.

CAIUS.
By gar, you are de coward, de Jack dog, John ape.

EVANS.
(Aside to CAIUS)

Pray you, let us not be
laughing-stocks to other men's humours; I desire you in
friendship, and I will one way or other make you amends.

(Aloud)

I will knog your urinals about your knave's cogscomb
for missing your meetings and appointments.

CAIUS.
Diable! Jack Rugby-mine Host de Jarteer-have I
not stay for him to kill him?
Have I not, at de place I did appoint?

EVANS.
As I am a Christians soul, now, look you, this is the
place appointed. I'll be judgment by mine host of the Garter.

HOST.
Peace, I say, Gallia and Gaul, French and Welsh,
soul-curer and body-curer.

CAIUS.
Ay, dat is very good! excellent!

HOST.
Peace, I say. Hear mine host of the Garter. Am I
politic? am I subtle? am I a Machiavel? Shall I lose my
doctor? No; he gives me the potions and the motions. Shall I
lose my parson, my priest, my Sir Hugh? No; he gives me
the proverbs and the noverbs. Give me thy hand, terrestrial;
so. Give me thy hand, celestial; so. Boys of art, I have
deceiv'd you both; I have directed you to wrong places;
your hearts are mighty, your skins are whole, and let burnt
sack be the issue. Come, lay their swords to pawn. Follow
me, lads of peace; follow, follow, follow.

SHALLOW.
Trust me, a mad host. Follow, gentlemen, follow.

SLENDER.
(Aside)

O sweet Anne Page!

(Exeunt all but CAIUS and EVANS.)

CAIUS.
Ha, do I perceive dat?
Have you make-a de sot of us, ha, ha?

EVANS.
This is well; he has made us his vlouting-stog. I
desire you that we may be friends; and let us knog our prains
together to be revenge on this same scall, scurvy, cogging
companion, the host of the Garter.

CAIUS.
By gar, with all my heart. He promise to bring me
where is Anne Page; by gar, he deceive me too.

EVANS.
Well, I will smite his noddles. Pray you follow.


(Exeunt.)

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