ises._

_Enter PAGE, FORD, MISTRESS PAGE and MISTRESS FORD._

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

_Mrs 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 105
Become the forest better than the town?

_Ford._ Now, sir, who's a cuckold now? Master Brook,
Falstaff's a knave, a cuckoldly knave; here are his horns,
Master Brook: and, Master Brook, he hath enjoyed nothing
of Ford's but his buck-basket, his cudgel, and twenty 110
pounds of money, which must be paid to Master Brook;
his horses are arrested for it, Master Brook.

_Mrs Ford._ Sir John, we have had ill luck; we could
never meet. I will never take you for my love again; but
I will always count you my deer. 115

_Fal._ I do begin to perceive that I am made an ass.

_Ford._ Ay, and an ox too: both the proofs are extant.

_Fal._ And these are not fairies? I was three or four
times in the thought they were not fairies: and yet the
guiltiness of my mind, the sudden surprise of my powers, 120
drove the grossness of the foppery into a received belief, in
despite of the teeth of all rhyme and reason, that they
were fairies. See now how wit may be made a Jack-a-Lent,
when 'tis upon ill employment!

_Evans._ Sir John Falstaff, serve Got, and leave your 125
desires, and fairies will not pinse you.

_Ford._ Well said, fairy Hugh.

_Evans._ And leave you your jealousies too, I pray you.

_Ford._ I will never mistrust my wife again, till thou art
able to woo her in good English. 130

_Fal._ Have I laid my brain in the sun, and dried it, that
it wants matter to prevent so gross o'erreaching as this?
Am I ridden with a Welsh goat too? shall I have a coxcomb
of frize? Tis time I were choked with a piece of
toasted cheese. 135

_Evans._ Seese is not good to give putter; your pelly is
all putter.

_Fal._ '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. 140

_Mrs Page._ Why, Sir John, do you think, though we
would have thrust virtue out of our hearts by the head and
shoulders, and have given oursel