The Merry Wives of Windsor
Page: 52

(The better to deuote her to the Doctor;
For they must all be mask'd, and vizarded)
That quaint in greene, she shall be loose en-roab'd,
With Ribonds-pendant, flaring 'bout her head;
And when the Doctor spies his vantage ripe,
To pinch her by the hand, and on that token,
The maid hath giuen consent to go with him

Host. Which meanes she to deceiue? Father, or Mother

Fen. Both (my good Host) to go along with me:
And heere it rests, that you'l procure the Vicar
To stay for me at Church, 'twixt twelue, and one,
And in the lawfull name of marrying,
To giue our hearts vnited ceremony

Host. Well, husband your deuice; Ile to the Vicar,
Bring you the Maid, you shall not lacke a Priest

Fen. So shall I euermore be bound to thee;
Besides, Ile make a present recompence.

Exeunt.

Actus Quintus. Scoena Prima.

Enter Falstoffe, Quickly, and Ford.

Fal. Pre'thee no more pratling: go, Ile hold, this is
the third time: I hope good lucke lies in odde numbers:
Away, go, they say there is Diuinity in odde Numbers,
either in natiuity, chance, or death: away

Qui. Ile prouide you a chaine, and Ile do what I can
to get you a paire of hornes

Fall. Away I say, time weares, hold vp your head &
mince. How now M[aster]. Broome? Master Broome, the matter
will be knowne to night, or neuer. Bee you in the
Parke about midnight, at Hernes-Oake, and you shall
see wonders

Ford. Went you not to her yesterday (Sir) as you told
me you had appointed?
Fal. I went to her (Master Broome) as you see, like a
poore-old-man, but I came from her (Master Broome)
like a poore-old-woman; that same knaue (Ford hir husband)
hath the finest mad diuell of iealousie in him (Master
Broome) that euer gouern'd Frensie. I will tell you,
he beate me greeuously, in the shape of a woman: (for in
the shape of Man (Master Broome) I feare not Goliath
with a Weauers beame, because I know also, life is a
Shuttle) I am in hast, go along with mee, Ile tell you all
(Master Broome:) since I pluckt Geese, plaide Trewant,
and whipt Top, I knew not what 'twas to be beaten, till
lately. Follow mee, Ile tell you strange things of this