_ A witch, a quean, an old cozening quean! Have
I not forbid her my house? She comes of errands, does
she? We are simple men; we do not know what's brought
to pass under the profession of fortune-telling. She works
by charms, by spells, by the figure, and such daubery as 155
this is, beyond our element: we know nothing. Come
down, you witch, you hag, you; come down, I say!

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

_Re-enter FALSTAFF in woman's clothes, and MISTRESS PAGE._

_Mrs Page._ Come, Mother Prat; come, give me your 160
hand.

_Ford._ I'll prat her. [_Beating him_] Out of my door,
you witch, you hag, you baggage, you polecat, you ronyon!
out, out! I'll conjure you, I'll fortune-tell you.
[_Exit Falstaff._

_Mrs Page._ Are you not ashamed? I think you have 165
killed the poor woman.

_Mrs Ford._ Nay, he will do it. 'Tis a goodly credit for
you.

_Ford._ Hang her, witch!

_Evans._ By yea and no, I think the 'oman is a witch indeed: 170
I like not when a 'oman has a great peard; I spy a
great peard under his muffler.

_Ford._ Will you follow, gentlemen? I beseech you,
follow; see but the issue of my jealousy: if I cry out thus
upon no trail, never trust me when I open again. 175

_Page._ Let's obey his humour a little further: come,
gentlemen. [_Exeunt Ford, Page, Shal., Caius, and Evans._

_Mrs Page._ Trust me, he beat him most pitifully.

_Mrs Ford._ Nay, by the mass, that he did not; he beat
him most unpitifully methought. 180

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

_Mrs Ford._ What think you? may we, with the warrant
of womanhood and the witness of a good conscience, pursue
him with any further revenge? 185

_Mrs 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.

_Mrs Ford._ Shall we tell our husbands how we have 190
served him?

_Mrs 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. 195

_Mrs Fo