and there is also another device in my prain, which
peradventure prings goot discretions with it:--there is Anne 40
Page, which is daughter to Master Thomas Page, which is
pretty virginity.

_Slen._ Mistress Anne Page? She has brown hair, and
speaks small like a woman.

_Evans._ It is that fery person for all the orld, as just as 45
you will desire; and seven hundred pounds of moneys, and
gold and silver, is her grandsire upon his death's-bed (Got
deliver to a joyful resurrections!) give, when she is able to
overtake seventeen years old: it were a goot motion if we
leave our pribbles and prabbles, and desire a marriage between 50
Master Abraham and Mistress Anne Page.

_Slen._ Did her grandsire leave her seven hundred pound?

_Evans._ Ay, and her father is make her a petter penny.

_Slen._ I know the young gentlewoman; she has good
gifts. 55

_Evans._ Seven hundred pounds and possibilities is goot
gifts.

_Shal._ Well, let us see honest Master Page. Is Falstaff
there?

_Evans._ Shall I tell you a lie? I do despise a liar as I do 60
despise one that is false, or as I despise one that is not true.
The knight, Sir John, is there; and, I beseech you, be ruled
by your well-willers. I will peat the door for Master Page.
[_Knocks_] What, hoa! Got pless your house here!

_Page._ [_Within_] Who's there? 65

_Enter PAGE._

_Evans._ Here is Got's plessing, and your friend, and
Justice Shallow; and here young Master Slender, that peradventures
shall tell you another tale, if matters grow to
your likings.

_Page._ I am glad to see your worships well. I thank 70
you for my venison, Master Shallow.

_Shal._ Master Page, I am glad to see you: much good
do it your good heart! I wished your venison better; it
was ill killed. How doth good Mistress Page?--and I
thank you always with my heart, la! with my heart. 75

_Page._ Sir, I thank you.

_Shal._ Sir, I thank you; by yea and no, I do.

_Page._ I am glad to see you, good Master Slender.

_Slen._ How does your fallow greyhound, sir? I heard
say he was outrun on Cotsall. 80

_Page._ It could not be judged, sir.

_Slen._ You'll not confess, you'll not confess.

_Shal._ That he will not. 'Tis your fault, 'tis your fault;
'tis a good dog.

_Page._ A cur, sir.